Chapter Sixteen

Wyatt's worry for Zachariah grew after they laid the woman to rest in her shallow grave. The man had been on his horse and ready leave within moments.

He had become a man possessed. Possessed with getting to the Sante Fe Trail and finding Clint.

He avoided any conversation and even seemed to be avoiding Wyatt. He had stopped speaking of saving Eleanor when he did choose to say anything and instead only talked about how he would make Clint pay.

Wyatt knew that the woman's suicide and the words in her note had convinced Zachariah that they would be too late to save Eleanor from a similar fate.

"Do you think you could talk your man into letting us have a day to rest?" Craig whimpered as he slid out of his saddle one evening. They'd been riding hard for just over a week and everyone was wearing down. "I need rest and our horses are damn near spent."

Wyatt sighed as he patted his Appaloosa. She had put on a bit of weight and wasn't quite as skittish as she'd been before. But Wyatt knew she was tired and her attitude was showing it. She'd been cranky all day.

From the corner of his eye Wyatt watched Zachariah head toward an outcropping of rocks in the distance. Zachariah had taken to staying away from him and Craig when they camped at night. So far Wyatt had respected his privacy and given him space but that was ending tonight.

Zachariah was too closed off and too full of anger. If they encountered danger just now, Zachariah wouldn't meet it with a clear or level head and Wyatt didn't want to watch him get himself killed.

'I'll talk to him,' Wyatt promised. 'Unsaddle her and feed her while I'm busy.'

Craig shook his head. "Hell no! That horse is off in her head. She hates me."

Wyatt shrugged and a smile spread across his face. 'You're the ladies man You'll figure out how to talk to her.'

Leaving Craig muttering oaths and curses under his breath, Wyatt followed after Zachariah. Darkness was already falling fast when Wyatt found him sitting upon the rocks. His shoulders were slumped and his face was a solemn mask. He looked much like a lost man.

A defeated man.

Wyatt ran to him. He scrambled onto Zachariah's lap, put his arms around his neck and buried his face in his shoulder; desperate to give the man all the comfort he could.

Instantly, Zachariah's arms ensnared him, pulling him closer still. Wyatt felt a tender kiss be placed on his head and his heart began to flip and flop in his chest.

"I'm sorry," Zachariah whispered.

Wyatt lifted his head. 'For what?'

"For not helping you. You've been hurting and I haven't been there."

'You're hurting too. I let you have space because I thought that's what you needed.'

"I did," Zachariah agreed. "But you needed affection and I denied you that."

Wyatt smiled and shook his head. 'I'm strong. You needed space and I gave you that. But now I'm taking it back.'

Zachariah chuckled and tightened his hold. "You are something else, Wyatt. I can't for the life of me, figure out why everyone worries about you so much. You're more than capable of taking care of things."

'We always worry about the people we care about,' Wyatt replied simply. 'That's why I'm worried about you.'

Zachariah sighed and his gray eyes looked out over the rolling hills surrounding them. "Don't worry about me, Wyatt. I'm strong too."

Wyatt clicked his tongue, drawing Zachariah's gaze back to him. 'You're not as tough as you want everyone to think.'

Wyatt saw the color drain from the ex-bounty hunters scarred cheeks. His storm gray eyes became haunted and he rubbed his hand over his face roughly. "All I see when I close my eyes or stop moving long enough to think is that woman lying there in all that blood—then I stop seeing her and see Eleanor instead. I see Eleanor lying dead with a knife beside her hand and realize I wasn't good enough to save her."

Wyatt simply laid his head upon Zachariah's chest and listened to his heart and Zachariah simply held him. They sat there for a long while, doing nothing but holding one another.

Wyatt knew there was nothing he could say that could possibly offer Zachariah any real comfort.

He could say that Eleanor would be fine. He could tell Zachariah that they would find her, save her and that her story would have a much happier ending than the woman before her.... But somehow Wyatt knew that Zachariah wasn't a man who would be comforted by sugar coated lies.

Truth was, Eleanor might already be dead. She might be too far gone to save. She may very well end up taking her own life just to escape the nightmares of what she'd endured.

So Wyatt did all he could do and that was simply be there.

Night fell and crickets sang their songs. A coyote yipped in the distance and stars dotted the sky around a full moon.

Wyatt shifted slightly and Zachariah sighed. "We should head back. You're hungry and you need rest."

Wyatt rolled his eyes. 'I'm fine. You need food and rest too.'

"I'd rather have time with you," Zachariah admitted, seeming a bit embarrassed by the admission.

Wyatt smiled as a tremble washed over him. 'You're the one who mentioned leaving.'

Zachariah's deep chuckle filled the air. "Forget I mentioned it."

'Forgotten.'

"Is Craig going to come looking for us?"

Wyatt shook his head. 'He's busy with camp and the horses. I left them for him to tend.'

A thick black brow quirked up on a scarred face. "Even yours?"

Wyatt flashed a mischievous grin in the moonlight. 'Even mine.'

"Good."

Before Wyatt could ask why it was good, Zachariah put a finger under his chin, raised his jaw and crushed their lips together.

***

Zachariah hadn't planned on kissing Wyatt. Hell, he hadn't even planned on being near Wyatt! He'd thought he distance to stay focused on his mission and keep from losing his mind—he'd been wrong.

Zachariah needed Wyatt.

He wasn't sure how it had happened, or when, but somehow Wyatt's presence had become essential to his survival.

Zachariah couldn't seem to breathe as he tasted Wyatt's lips and drank him in. He'd never been much for romance or flowery thoughts and words but, damn if Wyatt didn't inspire him.

It felt as if Wyatt's presence in his lap were the only thing keeping him from floating straight off that rock and rising into the night sky. His self-control was slipping fast as he finally partook in the temptation he'd been trying hard to avoid.

Wyatt's hands grabbed fists full of Zachariah's shirt and held tight.

Zachariah growled and nipped at Wyatt's mouth, demanding entrance.

He couldn't get enough. He yanked at Wyatt's shirt, pulling it from his trousers so he could slip his hands beneath the fabric and feel the smooth, hard planes of Watt's chest and stomach.

He felt the other man tremble beneath his touch and he smiled against Wyatt's mouth.

"You okay?" Zachariah whispered, pulling away slightly.

Wyatt's brown eyes shone in the light of the full moon. Without replying, he all but leapt at Zachariah and continued the kiss.

Hands roamed as mouths devoured and bodies ached. Zachariah had known that his hunger for Wyatt was strong but he hadn't realized just how all-consuming it would be once he gave in to it.

Zachariah felt Wyatt's hands moving lower across his stomach and to his waist. His cock yearned to have those hands just a bit further south.

Wyatt's name left his mouth as a curse and he shoved himself to his feet, placing Wyatt on his feet as well. Wyatt's soulful brown eyes were wide and questioning as he gazed up at Zachariah.

Deep in his chest, Zachariah's heart did a slow roll. Never had anyone looked at him quite the way Wyatt did

With slow but deliberate movements, Zachariah took hold of Wyatt's gun belt and undid the buckle, tossing the strip of leather aside as he slid it from Wyatt's hips.

He slipped his fingers into the waistband of Wyatt's trousers and pulled him closer before cradling his face in his hands and kissing him tenderly.

The soulful kiss was quickly torn apart by the sound of pounding hooves.

Zachariah threw Wyatt behind him to shield his body as he turned toward the sound. "Damnation," he growled.

Wyatt's Appaloosa came galloping toward them like a ghost in the moonlight. And Craig was behind her, chasing after her for all he was worth. "Damn horse!" he gasped as she came to a stop beside Wyatt.

Craig put his hands on his knees and leaned forward, struggling to catch his breath. "Soap Wyatt," he panted. "All she's good for is soap. And if the ugly nag bites me again, I'll be biting her back."

When neither Zachariah nor Wyatt replied, Craig finally looked at them both. Zachariah saw his eyes widen when he saw Wyatt's discarded gun belt and untucked shirt as well as the two buttons now missing from Zachariah's shirt due to Wyatt's roaming hands.

A sheepish grin spread across Craig's boyish face. "Did you have fun?"

Before Zachariah could tell the man to get lost, Wyatt stepped forward. Judging by the animated hand gestures and rapid mouth movement, Zachariah hazard to guess that Craig was getting one hell of a lecture.

Unfortunately, Zachariah was at the wrong angle to know exactly what his man was saying.

Craig shook his head, reached out and placed his hand over Wyatt's mouth. "Slow down, jabber mouth. You know I don't understand you when you get fired up."

Wyatt threw up his hands and sent his gaze in the same direction. He took his mare by the reins and scooped up his gun belt. 'I'm going back to camp.'

"Wait!" Craig called. "Did you talk to him about taking a day to rest?"

Wyatt glared. 'No. We didn't do much talking.'

Zachariah nearly choked on his tongue at Wyatt's honesty and Craig flushed in the moonlight. "Well.. uh.... Zachariah, do you think we could take a day tomorrow to rest?"

Zachariah sighed. He knew they were all tired and so were the horses. Stopping would mean time with Wyatt but it would also mean more time that Eleanor was a prisoner.

"No." He saw disappointment on Wyatt's face. "But we're only a couple days ride from a town. We can stop there, take a day to rest, restock our supplies and see if we can't learn a thing or two about where Clint might be." Zachariah met Wyatt's gaze. "I think a nice soft bed sounds nice."

It was Wyatt's turn to be embarrassed as the man quickly looked to the ground and nibble his lip. Without a response, he quickly dashed away back toward camp.

"It sure will be nice to have a rest," Craig stated.

Zachariah gave him a sideways glance and wondered why in the hell the man was attempting to make conversation with him. "Yeah," he grunted.

Craig patted him on the shoulder. "Sorry about letting that horse interrupt your time with Wyatt. She's a feisty one."

Zachariah merely growled. "Interrupt us again and you'll be the one being made into soap."

With those parting words, Zachariah headed back toward camp with every inch of him aching to finish what he and Wyatt had started.