Marooned With The Maverick

“Shh.” He reached out and clasped her arm through the thick wool of the blanket. His grip was strong. Sure. It made her so very glad that he was here with her, that she wasn’t huddled in the family barn all alone, waiting out the endless storm. “Don’t go there.” His voice was calm and firm. “There’s no point.”

She lifted her head. His eyes were open now, steady on hers. Shamelessly, she pleaded, “Tell me that we’re going to be okay, that Rust Creek Falls will be okay, that we’ll make it through this, come back better and stronger than ever.”

He didn’t even hesitate. He told her what she needed to hear. “We will. Just watch. Now come here. Come on …” He lifted the blanket that covered him.

She didn’t think twice. She went down into the shelter of his offered arm, resting her head on his shoulder. He was so warm and big and solid. He smelled of mud and man, which at that moment she found wonderfully reassuring. He fiddled with the blankets, smoothing them over both of them.

Willa smiled to herself. All those crazy teenage dreams she’d had about him. And here she was, damp and dirty, bruised and scratched up, lying practically on top of him, grateful beyond measure to share a pile of saddle blankets with him. The world seemed to have gone crazy in the space of a day. But right now, in Collin’s arms, she felt safe.

Protected.

She closed her eyes. “I didn’t realize until now how tired I am….”

He touched her hair, gently. Lightly. “Rest, then.”

She started to answer him, but then she found she didn’t have the energy to make a sound. Sleep closed over her. She surrendered to it with a grateful sigh.

When she woke, the light was different.

Sun. It was sun slanting in the window—and the window faced east. That meant it had to be morning, didn’t it?

Also …

She was lying on a man. Collin. He had both arms wrapped around her and his cheek against her dirty, snarled hair. Her head was on his shoulder, one arm tucked in against her side.

Her other arm rested on Collin, which was perfectly acceptable, given the circumstances. But the hand that was attached to that arm? That hand was exactly where it shouldn’t be.

And where it shouldn’t be was hard.

Blinking, not quite putting it all together as reality yet, Willa lifted her head from his shoulder and blearily squinted at the morning light. Outside, faintly, she could hear birds singing.

Without moving her hand away from his very definite, very thick and large hardness, she looked down at him. Because, seriously. Could this actually be happening?

It was.

And he was awake. He gazed up at her with the strangest, laziest, sexiest expression. “Mornin’.”

She puffed out her cheeks as she blew out a slow breath. And then, with great care, she removed her hand from his private parts and whispered, “The sun’s out.”

He nodded. “The rain’s stopped. It stopped hours ago.” He was playing along with her, pretending the contact between her hand and his fly had not occurred. Which was great. Perfect. Wonderful of him.

She backed off him onto her knees, dragging the blankets with her, and shoved her hair out of her eyes. “You, uh, should have woken me.”

“Uh-uh.” He reached out and clasped her shoulder, a companionable, reassuring sort of gesture that made tears clog her throat. She swallowed them down. And he said, “You needed your sleep and so did I. I woke up in the middle of the night and it was quiet. I knew the rain had finally stopped. I thought about getting up, but then I just closed my eyes and went back to sleep.”

Buster was up, making whining noises, scratching at the door that led outside. “I should let him out….” He took his hand from her shoulder. She wished he hadn’t, that he would touch her again, hold on tight and never, ever let go. But he didn’t. And she pushed the blankets aside, swung her legs over the edge of the hay bales and stood up. Barefoot, she went and pulled the door open. Buster went out and she scolded, “Don’t run off, now.” And then she lingered in the open doorway, staring up at the sky. Blue as a newborn baby’s eyes. She glanced back over her shoulder at Collin.

He was sitting up, bare feet on the floor. He had a case of bed head every bit as bad as hers, and he was kind of hunched over, his elbows on his knees. “Come on,” he said gruffly. “Put your boots on,” He raked his fingers back through all that thick, every-which-way hair. “We’ll see if the water’s gone down enough that we can get across the ravine to your folks’ house.”

They put on their damp socks and boots and pulled open the door that led into the main part of the barn.

“Needs a good mucking out in here,” Collin said. Did it ever. Most of the animals had wandered off, out into the morning sunshine, leaving a whole lot of fresh manure behind. “You supposed to be taking care of the place all by your lonesome while your folks and your brother are off at the rodeo?”

She shook her head and named off the neighbors who’d agreed to look after things and feed the stock until the family returned. “But I’m guessing they probably all have their own problems about now.” At least it was summer and grazing was good. The animals wouldn’t starve if left to their own devices for a few days.

Instead of slogging through the mess on the barn floor to one of the outer doors, they ducked back into the tack room and went out through the exterior door there. Buster was waiting for them, sitting right outside the door, acting as though he’d actually listened when she told him not to wander off.

Willa scratched his head and called him a good dog and tried to tell herself that the jittery feeling in her stomach was because she hadn’t eaten since lunch the day before— not rising dread at the prospect of how bad the damage was behind the barn on the next rise over, and along the roads that crisscrossed the valley. And in town …

“It’s a beautiful day,” she said, tipping her head up again to the clear sky. “You’d almost think yesterday never even happened.”

“Hey.”

She lowered her gaze to him. Even with his hair sticking up on one side and a smudge of dirt at his temple, he still looked like every well-behaved girl’s naughty, forbidden fantasy. “Hmm?”

His dark eyes searched hers. “You okay?”

And she nodded and forced her mouth to form a smile.

On the other side of the barn, the two pigs from the night before were rooting around near the water trough. A rooster stood on a section of busted-down fence and crowed as Willa stared across the ravine at her parents’ house.

The house was untouched by the flood, though the water had gotten halfway up the front walk that was lined with her mother’s prized roses. Her dad’s minitractor lay on its side at the base of that walk. And a couple of steers had somehow gotten through the fence and were snacking on the vegetable garden in the side yard.

Below, in the ravine, the water had receded, leaving debris strewn down the sides of the hill and up the one on which the house sat. There were tree trunks and lawn chairs down there, boulders and a bicycle, a shade umbrella and any number of other items that looked bizarre, scary and all wrong, soggy and busted up, trailing across the pasture. Willa turned her eyes away, toward the road.

And saw her red Subaru. It had drifted past the ditch and lay on its side in the pasture there. It was covered in mud.

“Guess I’ll be needing a new car.” She tried to sound philosophical about it, but knew that she didn’t exactly succeed.

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s go check out the house. Watch where you put your feet in that ravine.”

Buster and the two pigs followed them down there. They picked their way with care through all the soggy junk and knotted tree roots. It was going to be quite a job, cleaning up. And she knew that all the other ranches in the valley had to be in a similar state, if not worse. Her family still had a barn and the house, at least. And as far as she could see, there were no animals or—God forbid—people lying broken amid the wreckage down there.

When they reached the house, they skirted the downed tractor and went up the front steps. She’d lost her keys. They were probably still stuck in the ignition of her poor Subaru. But her mom had left a house key where she always did, in the mouth of the ceramic frog by the porch swing.

They went inside. The power and phone were both out, but still, it all looked just as it had the last time she’d been there, the white refrigerator covered with those silly smiling-flower magnets her mother liked, some of them holding reminders to pick up this or that at the store. There were also pictures of her and her brother and a few recipes her mom was meaning to try. In the living room, the remote sat on the magazine table by her dad’s recliner and her mother’s knitting bag waited in its usual place at the end of the fat blue sofa.

Her childhood home. Intact. It seemed a miracle to her right then. And she wanted to cry all over again—with a desperate, hot sort of joy.

Collin turned on the water in the kitchen. It ran clear, but they both knew that the flood could have caused contamination of any wells in its path.

She said, “We have wells for the stock. But for this house and Gage’s place, we have a water tank that taps an underground spring higher up on this hill. The floodwaters wouldn’t have reached that far. So the water here, in the house, is safe.”

“That’s good. A lot of valley wells are going to need disinfecting. Any source of clean water is great news.”

She nodded. “And in town, they get water from above the falls. So they should be all right, too, shouldn’t they, at least on the north side of the creek?” He shrugged. She knew what he was thinking. Who could say what they would find in town? And what about his family’s place? “I know you probably want to head over to the Triple T….”

“Yeah. But let’s check out your brother’s house first, and then see about getting something to eat.”

Gage’s house. She realized she didn’t want to go there.

But she did it anyway. And she was glad, again, for Collin’s presence at her side. The house was locked up. They looked in the windows. It was bad. The waterline went three feet up the walls, but the moisture had wicked higher still in ugly, muddy little spikes. Gage’s furniture was beyond saving, soggy and stained, the stuffing popping out.

“Can we get to the propane tank?” Collin asked. “Better to be safe than sorry when it comes to a possible gas leak.” She showed him the way. They were able to turn it off from outside. Then he said, “Come on. There’s nothing more we can do here right now.”

They went back to her parents’ house and found plenty to eat in the pantry. She filled Buster’s food bowl and the hungry dog quickly emptied it. After the meal, she took the perishables out of the fridge and put them in a bucket in the front yard. The two pigs went right to work on the treat.

By then it was still early, a little after seven. Collin suggested they make use of the safe water source and take showers before they left. There was just no way to guess the next time they’d have a chance to clean up a little. As at Gage’s place, the tank was heated by propane, so they even had hot water.

Willa chose from some of her own old clothes that her mom had stored for her in a box under the stairs. She got clean jeans, a fresh T-shirt and a pair of worn but sturdy lace-up work boots to wear. For Collin, she found an ancient purple Jimi Hendrix Experience shirt that belonged to her dad, a pair of her dad’s boots that were a pretty decent fit, and some trusty bib overalls. She also gave him a towel, a toothbrush, shave cream and a disposable razor. He took the guest bathroom. She used the master bath, and she made it quick.

Still, as she stood before the steamy bathroom mirror wrapped in one of her mother’s fluffy towels, combing the tangles out of her wet hair, she couldn’t help but think that Collin was just down the hall in the other bathroom, possibly naked.

Or if he wasn’t by now, he had been a few minutes ago.

She caught her lower lip between her teeth and glared at her own reflection. “Get your mind off Collin naked,” she told her steamy image in an angry whisper. “Seriously. You should get help, Willa Christensen.”

And that struck her as funny, for some reason. The idea that she needed counseling over Collin Traub. She laughed. And then she pulled herself together and pinned her still-wet hair into a knot at the back of her head.

A few minutes later, they were out in the kitchen again, deciding what to take with them when they left.

She didn’t tell him so, but he looked sexy even in overalls. He’d used the razor she’d given him and his dark stubble was gone, his hair still wet, but minus the dried mud from the flood.

Before they left, they filled a couple of gallon-size plastic containers with water. She stuffed a backpack with a few personal items. Her mom had a key to Willa’s house in town and she took that, since hers was lost somewhere in her mud-filled car. She also grabbed a leash and a plastic container of food for Buster. She would have grabbed her dad’s first aid kit, but Collin said he had one in his pickup.

“You want to wade out to your car?” Collin asked her. “See if maybe we can find your purse or your keys?”

It was way out there in the middle of that muddy field. And it didn’t look promising to her. “We just got dry boots,” she reminded him. “Let it go.”

Collin didn’t argue. She figured he was probably anxious to get to the Triple T.

They locked up the house again and headed for his truck, which waited at the top of the road where he’d left it. Buster hopped in the back and they climbed in the cab.

His cell was stuck in one of the cup holders. He tried it. “Still no signal.”

Willa hooked her seat belt. He started the engine, pulled a U-turn and off they went.

It took them over an hour to get to the Triple T. The roads were washed out in several places and they had to find a way around the trouble spots. There was soggy, broken stuff strewn randomly wherever the water had risen, not to mention swamped, abandoned vehicles. Willa tried to take heart that they were all only things.

Collin played the truck’s radio for news. Roads and bridges were out everywhere. Any number of small towns on the western side of the state from Butte north had sustained serious damage. A third of the state had been designated a disaster area and there were constant warnings—about staying off the roads as much as possible, about exercising caution in flooded buildings, about the danger of snakes and the hazards of rats. About steering clear of downed power lines.

At the Triple T, all the buildings were above the waterline and undamaged, but there would still be one heck of a cleanup to deal with. The hands who’d been taking care of the place were there and safe. Willa told them how to get into her parents’ house to get fresh water for the next day or so, until they could disinfect the wells. They said they would check the stock for her as soon as they’d dealt with the animals on the Triple T.

Once Collin seemed satisfied that the hands had things under control, he said, “We should get going, go on into town.”

She caught his arm before they got in the cab.

He stopped and turned to look at her. “Yeah?” His skin was so warm under her hand. Smooth flesh, hard muscles beneath. She felt suddenly shy with him and jerked her hand away. He frowned. “What’s the matter?”

“I, well, I was just thinking that I’ll bet you really want to go back up the mountain to check on things at your place. You could just drop me off when we get to Falls Street and I can hitch a ride in.”

He stuck his fists into the front pockets of her dad’s overalls and tipped his head to the side. “What the hell, Willa? I’m not leaving you alone on the street.”

His words warmed her. But still. She really did need to stop taking advantage of his kindness to her.

Kindness.

Incredible. She’d been so busy judging him as a heartless, undisciplined sex maniac for all these years, she’d never had a clue what a softy he really was. She shook her head. “Oh, come on now. It’s Rust Creek Falls. We both know I’ll be perfectly safe.”

“We don’t know what’s going on since last night. And I don’t want you wandering around alone.”

“Collin, I would hardly wander. And I know everyone in town, so I won’t by any stretch of the imagination be alone.”

“I’m coming with you. I want to be with you when you check on your house.” He said the words in a cautious tone. They both knew where her house was: directly in the path of the water. She was already resigned to the fact that it had to be flooded and was hoping that at least some of her clothing and furniture might be salvageable.

“Honestly, I can handle it. I was pretty shell-shocked yesterday, I know. But I’m over that. I’m ready to face whatever comes. You don’t have to worry about me.”

He was scowling now. “Why are you trying to get rid of me?”

She fell back a step. “But I’m not. I just thought …”

He caught her arm with his calloused hand. It felt so good, his touch. And his grip was so strong. “What?” he demanded. “You thought what?”

She looked up at him, at his smoldering dark eyes and those lips that seemed like they were made for kissing a woman and she wondered what he would do if she kissed him. The idea made her feel both embarrassed and giddy. She almost giggled.

“Willa,” he demanded. “What is going on with you all of a sudden?”

Now she was thinking about earlier that morning. About waking up with her hand where it shouldn’t have been—about how he’d been turned on.

Get real, Willa. Just because he became aroused didn’t mean he was dying to have sex with her in particular. It was simple biology, and she needed to remember that.

And if he wanted to keep on being kind to her, well, maybe she’d just let him. Maybe she’d just go right on taking advantage of Collin Traub and enjoying every minute of it. “Nothing is ‘going on’ with me. I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t taking advantage of you.”

“You’re not.”

“So … you don’t mind going into town, then?”

“It’s not about minding. It’s what I planned to do. People will need help. They’ll need every able-bodied man.”

“And woman,” she reminded him.

“Right.” He had the good sense to agree.

She pressed her lips together to keep from grinning up at him like some addled fool and said, “Well, fair enough, then. I was just, um, checking.”

He seemed to realize suddenly that he was gripping her arm—and let go. “Checking.” Now he looked suspicious.

She put on her most innocent expression. “Uh-huh. Nothing wrong with checking, making sure you’re okay with what’s going on.”

“If I’m not okay, you’ll know it.”

“Well, then, I’ll stop checking.”

“Good. Can we go now?”

She had that silly urge to grin again. Must be the stress of all she’d been through since yesterday. Yeah. Right. That must be it.

The trip into Rust Creek Falls was as booby-trapped with obstacles as the ride to the Triple T had been.

There was the smell of smoke in the air. It wasn’t just from wood fires in stoves and fireplaces. They heard the sirens, saw the roiling smoke in the distance. On the south side of town, some homes had caught fire. Willa prayed her house wasn’t one of them—and then she put her house out of her mind and prayed that no lives were endangered by the fires.

Other travelers were on the road by then, most of whom they recognized. Everyone seemed to have somewhere important to go. People waved and honked, but nobody pulled over to talk about what they’d been through or exchange information about the disaster. Collin had the radio on. All the way there, they listened to advice on how to deal with the aftermath of the Great Independence Day Flood.

When they finally got to Falls Street on the southeastern edge of town, they had to circle around and take other roads farther east and then work their way back in. It was nothing but mud, pools of water, swamped, abandoned vehicles and way too much debris south of the creek. The buildings they saw before they turned east were still standing, but bore the telltale signs of water damage within.

Eventually, they reached Sawmill Street and turned west again. The water level was way down from flood stage and the bridge appeared intact. Collin pulled the pickup to the shoulder before they crossed it. They both got out to have a look, to make sure that crossing would be safe. Buster jumped out to follow them.

But then a couple of pickups came rolling across from the town side. Behind the wheel of the second truck was a rancher they both recognized, Hank Garmond. Hank owned a nice little spread at the southwestern edge of the valley.

He pulled to a stop. “Willa. Collin. I see you’re both in one piece and still breathing. Could be worse, eh? I’m headin’ back to my place. We still got a house, but we lost the barn and sheds. Haven’t started counting cattle yet. I just stopped in at Crawford’s to try and get a few supplies to tide us over.” Crawford’s General Store, on North Main, was a town landmark. The store sold everything from basic foodstuffs to farm supplies, hardware and clothing. “Shelves are already lookin’ pretty bare in there.”

Collin asked, “How bad is it?”

“In town? Power’s out, and all the phones. North of the creek is okay, from what I heard. No flooding, the water supply unaffected. South is not lookin’ good. Commercial Street Bridge is washed out. There’s damage to the Main Street Bridge. People are bypassing it. We still got this bridge though.” He pointed a thumb back over his shoulder. “Praise the Lord for small favors.” Very small favors, Willa couldn’t help thinking. True, it was pretty much what she and Collin had thought it would be, but somehow, to hear Hank confirm their suspicions made it all the more horribly real. “And then there’s what happened to Hunter McGee.” Hunter McGee was the mayor.

“What?” Willa demanded.

“Tree fell on that old SUV of his. So happened he was in the SUV at the time.”

Willa respected Mayor McGee. He was a born leader, a real booster of education and had planned and promoted several school-related fund-raising events. “My Lord,” she cried. “Was he hurt?”

“The tree fell on the hood. Not a scratch on him.” Hank resettled his hat on his head and Willa felt relief. But then Hank added, “Must have scared the you-know-what right out of him. He had a heart attack.”

Willa put her hand over her mouth. “Oh, no …”

“Oh, yeah. It was over real quick for Mayor McGee.”

“Over?” Willa’s heart sank. “You—you mean he’s …?”

Hank nodded. An SUV and another pickup came across the bridge. The occupants waved as they drove by. Hank said somberly, “They took him to Emmet’s house. Emmet pronounced him DOA.” Emmet dePaulo, a nurse-practitioner, ran the town clinic. “Clinic’s flooded, in case you were wondering.”

Willa and Collin exchanged grim glances. They weren’t surprised. The clinic was south of Main. “Emmet and a couple of his neighbors waded in there and saved what equipment and supplies they could first thing this morning. Luckily, Emmet had a lot of his medical stuff stored on the second floor and the water didn’t make it that high. He’s set up an emergency clinic at his house, for now.”

“They got the volunteer fire guys out on search and rescue?” Collin asked.

Hank shrugged. “Can’t say. I ain’t heard of anybody dead, hurt bad or stranded …’ceptin’ Mayor McGee, I mean. Rest his soul. But I did hear that some county trucks brought in salvage-and-rescue equipment and sandbags yesterday before the levee broke. This morning, the town council put together an emergency crew to patch up the places where the water got through. So that’s taken care of for now. And you can just have a look at the creek. Water level’s back to normal range.”