A Cowboy in Manhattan(35)
Katrina lurched to her feet. “Wow,” was all she managed. She stared at his slick, half-naked body, powerful and magnificent in the waning light. “Did you ever get that wrong.”
He bent to fiddle with something on the pump contraption, and the piston came to life with a rhythmic, sloshing sound.
Apparently satisfied, he closed a sheet-metal cover and fastened it. He gathered up the remaining tools, shoving some of them back into his tool belt, putting others in the box and securing the lid.
He stood and looked around at the dark surroundings. “We have to get back.”
He waited for her to stand and start moving, then he took the lead, making his way along the ridge, heading toward the steep trail that led to where they’d parked the truck. Thankfully, he took it slower this time, and Katrina didn’t have to struggle quite so hard to keep up.
But when they came to the top of the trail, Reed stopped abruptly. The top of the bank had sloughed away, and the trail had turned to a rivulet of mud and water, coursing down in the direction of the road.
“I don’t think so,” said Reed, holding out his arm as a block between her and the edge of the bluff.
“What do we do now?” she asked, peering into the gloom of the aspen grove, listening to the whoosh of the water below them.
He set the toolbox down, well back from the edge, and he stripped off the leather tool belt, plunking it on top. “I’m not dragging you through the bush in the dark, that’s for sure.”
“I’ll be fine,” she assured him, wondering if it was a lie. Just how difficult would it be to make their way back through the thick woods?
“There’s a line shack about a mile that way.” He gestured with his head in the opposite direction of the well. “We’ll wait it out there.”
That seemed like an only slightly more palatable option.
“It’ll be pitch-dark by the time we get there.” She was already having a hard time picking her way across the uneven meadow. And she was cold and wet and miserable.
“Yes, it will. So, up you go.” He scooped her into his arms.
“Hey!”
“You’d rather walk?”
“Yes!”
“No, you wouldn’t. I’ve got leather boots and long pants, and I’ve been hiking these hills my entire life.” He adjusted her in his arms.
“You can’t carry me a whole mile.”
“I could carry you twenty miles without breaking a sweat. And even if I couldn’t, I’m not letting you risk your ankle.”
“This is ridiculous,” she huffed.
“Welcome to my world, Katrina. It can be cold, wet, dirty and unforgiving.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck in surrender. “This is exactly why I went off to boarding school.”
“You were right to do that.” His tone was gruff. “And you’re right to stay away. Colorado’s a bad place for you.”
Katrina didn’t disagree. But for the first time in her life, it didn’t feel like an insult.
Six
Inside the line shack, Reed set Katrina on her feet, instructing her to hold still while he located a box of matches to light the two oil lamps that would be sitting on the small kitchen table. He knew where everything was in the compact, single-room shack, and he didn’t want her walking into the furniture.
“Will somebody come looking for us?” her voice wafted across the cool room to him.
“What do you mean?”
“When we don’t come back, will they come looking?”
Reed couldn’t help but smile to himself. He struck a match, lifted the glass chamber and lit the lamp’s wick. The idea that Caleb would mount a rescue operation because Reed was a few hours late was laughable.
“I’m old enough to stay out after dark,” he told Katrina. He quickly moved the match to the second lamp and lit it, as well. Warm yellow light filled the small room, highlighting a compact kitchen, two worn armchairs, a bed in one corner, along with the scarred wooden table and four battered kitchen chairs.
“Won’t they worry?” she pressed.
“Not for a day or so.”
“But we could be hurt.”
“We’re not hurt.”
“They don’t know that.”
He took in her bedraggled appearance and tried not to feel guilty, reminding himself that she was the one who’d insisted on coming along. “They’ll know that odds are we’re stuck.”