Chapter Six

Evening came much too fast in Zachariah's opinion. Those lunatics had held him up and hindered his progress—but at least he'd found a nice clear wide spot in the river to camp beside and wash the trail dust off himself in the process.

Silver linings were there if you looked hard enough for them—trouble was Zachariah was often a bit blind and a bit lazy rolled all together.

Zachariah lay his gun belt and hat on a rock near the river's edge before slipping out of his clothes. The fading sunset felt good against his bare skin and so Zachariah simply spent several long seconds soaking the sensation in before stepping into the water.

The deepest pool in the middle of the river barely came to his hips but it still felt good to his aching muscles. Using the lye soap he'd had tucked into his saddlebags, Zachariah began to scrub away the dirt, grime and blood that a day on horseback and the mercantile scuffle had covered him in.

Crickets began to sound and frogs croaked. The sound of night owls reached his ears. Zachariah loved this time—when the daytime creatures and noises said goodbye and the night awakened.

With a growl, Zachariah realized his peace was going to be short lived. He could feel eyes on him. Without turning completely, Zachariah edged to the side and realized a man was laying on the grassy knoll only a hundred yards from his bathing spot.

He wished folks would just leave him the hell alone.

Zachariah figured he must have some scent lunatics were drawn too. That was the only explanation for the last few days and for a random man to simply be laying on top of a hill and watching him take a bath.

Keeping only the corner of his eye on the voyeur, Zachariah waited for his chance to move and then took it. He wasn't sure who the jackass was, or what he wanted, but he damn sure intended to find out.

***

Wyatt hadn't meant to end up lying flat on his belly, spying on Zachariah as he took a bath.

He truly hadn't.

He'd simply been wondering how best to approach the man and explain why he had been following him when he couldn't actually speak the words.

Then Zachariah had taken off all his clothes and Wyatt had been powerless against the urge to simply watch. Never in his life had Wyatt felt such an overwhelming longing and desire.

Zachariah had a thick, hard body, dotted with scars and lined with muscle. He moved with an unexpected grace given his size and power. The long black braid he seemed to keep hidden under his hat most of the time, hung down his broad back and grazed the top of his backside.

And damn, what a backside.

Wyatt was transfixed. Mesmerized. He gave no thought to whether it was right or wrong to spy on a person. He couldn't have looked away if he'd wanted to.

Except he did look away.

He looked away when a spider chose that moment to scurry across his arm. Wyatt very nearly screamed, leapt to his feet and took off running but he somehow managed to reign in his terror and simply shook his hand until the eight-legged terror was tossed off and dashed away.

Wyatt turned his eyes back to the river, eager to see more of Zachariah. He blinked once. Twice. Zachariah was gone.

He'd been there only moments before. Where could he have gone? His black horse was still grazing calmly and his clothes and belongings were still in the same place he'd left them.

Wyatt felt that worry that lived inside of him begin to grow. Had something happened? Perhaps Zachariah had fallen, hit his head on the river bottom and was unconscious and drowning, being carried away by the current.

He sprang to his feet and then he heard a growl behind him. A very human growl. Wyatt turned and Zachariah stood behind him—bare in all his glory.

"You again?" Zachariah ground out between tense jaws.

Before Wyatt could explain himself, Zachariah swung out and the chunk of wood in his hand had Wyatt's world turning black.

***

Zachariah stared down at the unconscious man lying at his feet and fought off the guilt he felt rise up inside. He had nothing to feel guilty about.

Wyatt and his people had been nothing but a thorn in his side for days and now, even after they'd agreed to let Zachariah go, he finds Wyatt spying on him from atop a hill!

The man deserved to be questioned and Zachariah was only showing him the same treatment that he himself had been shown.

Zachariah stooped down and lifted Wyatt's limp body into his arms, fighting hard to ignore the sensations that washed down his body when Wyatt's bare cheek pressed against his shoulder.

Setting the man down gently in his camp, Zachariah removed Wyatt's weapons and tied his wrists. He then slid into his clothes and fetched Wyatt's horse, hitching it up beside his own.

Wyatt was beginning to stir when Zachariah took a seat across from him. Soulful brown eyes opened and fell on Zachariah and he shook his head. "Don't look at me as if I were the bad one here, Wyatt. You were the one hiding on a hill watching me take a bath."

Wyatt's eyes widened and then he quickly looked down at the ground and kicked at the grass. The sheepish expression on the man's face had Zachariah wondering if maybe he'd liked what he'd seen.

Zachariah cleared his throat. Now wasn't the time to be thinking foolish thoughts. "Now, what exactly are you doing here?"

Wyatt shrugged and met his gaze again. He winced and put his hand over the back of his head. 'Why?' he mouthed.

"Why did I knock you out?"

Wyatt nodded.

Zachariah smiled. "You people seem awful fond of thumping people on the head. I figured I'd repay the favor." Wyatt's lips twitched as he averted his gaze. "Now answer my question, Wyatt. What are you doing here?"

Wyatt heaved out a breath and then his mouth began to move a mile a minute. Zachariah struggled to understand what the man was saying but couldn't. He shook his head. "I'm not understanding you."

Wyatt rolled his eyes skyward and then tilted his head toward his saddlebags. "If you're wanting your paper, it won't do much good. I can make out simple words but I'm not the best at reading."

Wyatt's shoulders drooped and he nibbled at his lip. Zachariah found his eyes drawn to the movement. "Why don't we try just one word at a time?" he offered.

Wyatt's brown eyes lit up with a childlike innocence that tugged at Zachariah's heartstrings. 'Help.'

It took several repeats of the movement but Zachariah finally understood he was saying help. "Help? You need help?"

Wyatt shook his head. 'You.'

Zachariah sat there dumbfounded. "You followed me because you want to help me?"

'Yes.'

With a shake of his head, Zachariah slid the ropes from Wyatt's wrists. "I don't think so. I thought I made it clear that I didn't want help."

Wyatt met his gaze and it became quite clear to Zachariah that he was dealing with an overly stubborn man. "I'm telling you I don't want help and you still want to help me? You do realize the men I'm after are cold-blooded killers don't you?"

Wyatt nodded and Zachariah didn't see any fear. He had a feeling Wyatt had been in more than a few dangerous situations. He sighed. "What about your people, Wyatt? Won't they worry?"

"No."

"How can you be so sure?"

Wyatt shook his head and then mouthed the word. 'Care'.

"They don't care?" Wyatt nodded. "I doubt that, Wyatt. I don't want to get a bullet in my back when they come gunning to find you."

Again Wyatt shook his head. Zachariah pointed in the direction they'd traveled from. "Go home."

Wyatt simply glared. Stubbornly.

Zachariah didn't need this. He didn't need one more innocent person to get hurt, taken, or worse yet, killed, because of his past. "Wyatt, you need to go home. This isn't your fight."

Wyatt pointed at Zachariah, then to himself and mouthed the word, help. "I helped you?" Zachariah asked. Wyatt nodded. "Yes, I helped you. But that was different. I wasn't going to die doing it. You could very well die if you insist on coming with me. You don't have a dog in this fight. Go home."

Again Wyatt shook his head. He pointed to himself, then to Zachariah and once again mouthed, 'help'.

Rubbing his face roughly, Zachariah spared a glance to the heavens and then returned his gaze to Wyatt. "If you die, don't come crying to me."

A smile split Wyatt's face and lit up his features. Zachariah felt his heart stutter and he cursed under his breath.

He was in trouble.

ernatUn^