Lindsay McKenna - Out Rider

“I was born in the Allegheny Mountains of West Virginia,” he told her. “Place no one’s heard of, Black Mountain.” Opening his fingers on the wheel for a moment, he added, “Most people, when I tell them that, think I’m a hillbilly.”

Dev caught the amusement in the inflection of his voice. “Nothing wrong with that.”

He raised a brow. “No?”

“No. Why would you ask?” Dev felt him teasing her and she enjoyed watching the corner of his mouth curve upward a little.

“Curious as to how you would respond to the label.”

“Do most people catalog you because of it?” she asked. When he glanced at her, she saw thoughtfulness in his gaze. The man was easy to read. Unlike Bart Gordon, who always smiled, who always showered her with compliments, telling her how beautiful her hair was or how pretty her eyes were. It got so she hated to be in the same building with him.

“What does the word hillbilly bring up for you?” Sloan asked.

Shrugging, Dev petted Bella, who sat on the floor between her legs. “Actually, lucky, because they were born in rural parts of America. In more natural surroundings, rather than the big city or suburban areas.”

“And you weren’t born in nature?”

She grinned. “Technically, I was born in the suburbs of Casper, Wyoming, but out in back of our house there was nothing but fields that went on forever. I felt like I lived in nature.”

“So you’re a tough Wyoming-bred woman?”

The way his voice caressed her, Dev had to shake herself out of the sensation of warmth surrounding her. It was as if Sloan had invisibly embraced her. But he hadn’t. “I don’t know about tough,” she said, “but yes, I’m used to long winters.”

That brought a smile to his mouth. “Yes, you would be. Where I come from we have about three months, but then it starts warming up.”

“Did you learn your farrier trade from your father?”

“Yes, I did. You’re pretty astute.”

“I find in some families that skill is passed down.”

“So,” he mused aloud, giving her a quick look, “you’re a pretty observant woman. How did you get that way?”

“People interest me,” Dev admitted, hungry for this kind of intimate conversation to better explore Sloan. She didn’t look too closely at why.

“You’re an extrovert?”

“Mostly, although—” Dev looked out the window at the passing grassy meadows and the evergreens skirting around them “—I consider myself half and half. My mother is an introvert. My father is an extrovert. I think I got a little from both of them. What about you?”

“My pa and ma are both introverts, so I got a double dose of it.”

She smiled softly, absorbing his clean, rugged profile. There was nothing weak about Sloan Rankin. He was, in her book, a man’s man. “You like quiet, no crowds and not getting peopled to death daily. How on earth did you get into the Forest Service, then? Most of our duties, with a few exceptions, involve interfacing with the public on a daily basis.”

“They hired me for a couple of reasons. I don’t think it crossed their minds that I was a total introvert. I came out of the Army and was a combat assault–dog handler. Plus, my pa taught me to be a blacksmith, and they were looking for someone good with animals and who had farrier skills.” He smiled a little, slanting a look toward Dev. “Most of the time, I’m with animals, not humans. They never stress me. But put me on the visitor’s desk? Then I’m tensed up tighter than a riled copperhead.”

She chuckled. “So you were in the military?”

“I was. I guess I fit the profile of a dog handler at the testing phase and got shuttled out of basic and into dog training. Ended up with a few two-year-long deployments to Afghanistan with my boy Mouse.”

“Those had to be intense deployments,” Dev muttered, frowning. “Dangerous work every day.”

“It was. I wanted out of the Army after my four-year enlistment was up. My dog had a nervous breakdown of sorts. We got attacked on a hill with RPGs being thrown at us from three directions. My dog couldn’t handle it.” And then his mouth thinned. “None of us could, so the dog’s anxiety was merely a reflection of all of ours. He just showed it outwardly. The rest of us stuffed it deep down inside of us instead. Animals are more honest than most humans, I’ve found.”

Dev felt tension and grief surround Sloan for a moment, and then the sensation dissolved. It surprised her he would allow his feelings to show and wondered why. Did he trust her? Or was he that way with everyone? “I was in the Marine Corps for four years,” she admitted quietly. “I was a dog handler, too. Only I was out on deployments with bomb-sniffing dogs, not like what you did. Your kind of work was far more dangerous than mine.”

“So, you were in the Corps?”

“Now, you aren’t going to throw labels on me, are you, Sloan?” she teased a little, watching his shoulders come down to their normal position. Just talking about those dangerous deployments had tensed him up. Dev understood fully.

“Me? Nah. I believe in letting a person show me who they are through their actions, not their words. Still, I find it interesting we were both in the military and both dog handlers, although in different capacities.”

Moving her fingers across Bella’s sleek, golden head, Dev smiled softly. “I loved my work, but the heat was brutal. Bella here is my second dog. She got injured in a bomb blast and I got to take her with me after I got out.”

He scowled. “Were you injured, too?”

“Just shrapnel. Bella’s the one who took the real injury.” Dev held up her right arm. “The doctor picked out a bunch of shrapnel from my lower arm and shoulder. I’m good as new now. Bella took a big piece in her left shoulder. She develops a bit of a limp if we’re out tracking more than six hours. Other than that, she’s in no pain and is great at what she does.”

Sloan’s brows drew downward, his mouth flexing, as if unhappy. A powerful sense of protection washed over Dev and this time she knew it was from Sloan, how he was feeling toward her. Never had she felt this kind of a reaction from a man. She wondered if he was aware of it. Glancing at his profile, he seemed intent on driving. Oh, how humans hid things from one another. With an internal shake of her head, Dev knew full well she had been hiding her real feelings and reactions from the day that IED had gone off, sending her and Bella into the air, blown ten feet backward from the blast wave. Even now, her hearing wasn’t back to normal.

It had ruptured both her eardrums. And even Bella’s hearing wasn’t perfect, which was why the Marine Corps had released her.

“Well,” Sloan drawled, “I’m fairly sure you’re glossing over your time in the military. On any given night, I can have a nightmare and recall every last detail whether I want to or not.”

CHAPTER FOUR

THE GRAVEL PARKING lot near Moose Lake was huge. There were steep trails that led to a waterfall halfway up the flank of one of the jagged, snow-dusted Tetons. The sun was warm on Dev’s back. Both horses were frisky and eagerly trotted toward the narrow, rocky trail that disappeared quickly in the fir trees. Bella happily trotted behind Goldy, keeping pace with them. Dev had a leash but didn’t use it in such tight quarters. Besides, her dog was voice trained and Bella would obey her without hesitation. The air was pungent with the scent of the evergreens, and Dev thought it was one of her most favorite fragrances as she followed Rocky and Sloan up a steep switchback. They disappeared around the corner for a moment. Dev noted there was spring runoff snow from further above. The soil was slippery. On top of that, rocks appeared out of the mud and crisscrosses of roots snaked horizontally across the trail.