Chapter Twelve

Zachariah paced camp that night as if he were a wild animal, caged and desperate. He'd torn that town upside down but Eleanor had been nowhere and neither had Clint.

His sister was still out there somewhere with that bastard and it was all Zachariah's fault. Judging by the shape the woman they'd found had been in, Zachariah hated to think about what Eleanor would be going through out there...

A sudden idea came to Zachariah. He strode to the edge of camp and the make-shift tent that Wyatt had erected for the woman they'd found in that town. Wyatt had insisted they help her, and Zachariah hadn't argued. Now he hoped maybe the woman could be helpful.

He threw back the tent flap and stuck his torso inside. The woman was sitting at the back with her knees into her chest and, at the sight of him, she began to scream.

Zachariah's ears ached and began to ring. He hollered for her to stop, but if she heard him, she gave no indication. Her green eyes were wide and bright, her body trembling and her voice loud enough to peel paint from a wall.

Suddenly Zachariah felt a hand grip the back of his shirt and his body was yanked from the tent. He stumbled before catching his balance and turned to see Wyatt frowning at him.

'What are you doing?' Wyatt asked.

Zachariah ripped off his hat and tossed his long braid back. "I need to talk to that woman. She might know where Eleanor is."

Wyatt shook his head as his gaze softened. 'She's in no shape to talk just now. Give her time.'

Zachariah growled. "Eleanor doesn't have time!"

He turned to go back into the tent but Wyatt slipped around him and stood in his way. "Move Wyatt," Zachariah warned.

Wyatt's eyes rolled skyward before he crossed his arms over his chest and stared up at Zachariah stubbornly. 'Leave her alone.'

"She's going to talk to me, goddammit!" Zachariah bellowed. He reached out to shove Wyatt out of his way but the smaller man grabbed his arm, swooped in close and caught him with a hard punch in the gut before shoving him back.

The air was knocked out of Zachariah and he bent down with his hands on his knees as he waited for his lungs to work properly again. He glanced up at Wyatt with disbelief. "What the hell was that for?"

'You needed to calm down.'

"They have my sister, Wyatt...."

Wyatt nodded, his big brown eyes softening as he stepped forward and put his hand on Zachariah's shoulder. 'Walk with me?'

"Walk?" Zachariah glanced back toward the tent and thought about the woman inside and how she was the only one who might be able to provide any answers. Then he looked at Wyatt and the hopeful expression on his boyish face and nodded. "Sure, let's take a walk."

The two men walked side by side until they came to an outcropping of rocks. Wyatt gestured toward them and Zachariah sighed as he sat down. Surprise and shock alike filled him when Wyatt sat down beside him and laid his head on his shoulder.

Zachariah had never been shown tenderness and he had no idea how to react. So he simply sat there stiffly and focused on breathing. Wyatt lifted his head and Zachariah let his gaze drop to his lips. 'Tell me about Eleanor.'

Zachariah's first instinct was to refuse—he had lived a rough life. The kind of life that taught a man to never open up and allow himself to be vulnerable. "Wyatt, I don't know how to act... I've never ... I've never had..." He growled as he struggled to put his thoughts into words. "That hug you gave me back at the saloon? That happened to be my first one."

Wyatt sat up straight and his jaw dropped as he stared at Zachariah as if the words he'd just spoken were the strangest Wyatt had ever heard.

He held up one long finger and frowned. 'Only one?'

Zachariah nodded. "Yeah." He couldn't explain the why of it but he wanted Wyatt's head back on his shoulder. That had truly felt right.

'I have had lots of hugs. Didn't you have family? Your sister?'

Zachariah didn't understand why Wyatt seemed so shocked and horrified. He sighed. "My mama died when I was born and my father—he was too busy drinking and either beating me or ignoring me to waste time with hugs. Eleanor.... Eleanor grew up in an orphanage and hugs weren't taught to her either."

Wyatt stared hard at him a moment before grinning broadly and throwing his arms around Zachariah's neck. Zachariah sat there stiffly before finally slipping his arms around Wyatt in return.

When Wyatt pulled away, several long peaceful moments later, he was smiling from ear to ear. He held up two fingers. Zachariah chuckled, surprised by the emotion in his throat. "Yeah...Yeah, now I've had two."

That lump in Zachariah's throat grew larger when Wyatt relaxed against him once again and laid his head on his shoulder. Zachariah tentatively raised his hand and brushed his fingertips against Wyatt's knuckles. Wyatt opened his hand and entwined his fingers with Zachariah's.

Zachariah felt something swell within his chest. Want and desire were two things he had grown accustomed to feeling around Wyatt but the feeling currently growing inside of him was different. It was softer, gentler and more subdued—but still just as strong.

Wyatt nudged him a bit and Zachariah knew the man was waiting for him to speak. Zachariah gave his hand a squeeze and cleared his throat. "My mama died bringing me into the world. She was a white woman and my father was an Indian. I don't know what tribe he came from; he never spoke about it. I would have died as an infant if it hadn't been for my mama's sister. She raised me until I was two and a sickness took her. My father beat me some days, ignored me on others and was always drunk. When I was six, he remarried and they had my sister, Eleanor. He died when I was eight and Eleanor's mother disappeared. I've always believed she got tired of the beatings and killed him but why she would abandon her baby daughter, I don't know.

"I wasn't old enough to care for a baby but I refused to go to the orphanage and so our first night there, I escaped. I learned how to survive and I checked on my sister from time to time. When she turned seventeen, they said she was too old to remain at the orphanage. I was twenty-four and had plenty of money set aside from hunting bounties. I bought her a place to live and set her up with enough livestock and money to support her.

"When I turned thirty, I decided I was tired of chasing after men with guns. I had enough money to live comfortably and keep my sister up for the rest of our lives. I didn't have a house of my own so I went to stay with her awhile. That's how they found her."

Zachariah cursed under his breath and stared up at the darkening sky. "They found Eleanor because they were tracking me. They waited until I left and they swooped in and took her. I was gone three days—three goddam days—and when I got back, she was gone. That man in there was right—" The arm Zachariah had placed around Wyatt tightened. "—It's my fault they have her. I led them straight to her. I should have stayed away...."

Wyatt sat up and shook his head. 'It's not your fault. They are bad people.'

"But they're bad people who wouldn't have even known my sister existed had it not been for me leading them to her."

Wyatt sighed and, without attempting to say anything further, he curled his body into Zachariah's. Zachariah wrapped the smaller man's frame in his thick, strong arm and held him tight. Wyatt fit perfectly cocooned against Zachariah's chest.

The two men stayed that way a long while. Zachariah was deep in thought but the peace and comfort of the contact was not lost on him. Darkness enveloped them and Zachariah was beginning to believe he could stay exactly like that with Wyatt forever. Then a scream pierced the night.

Wyatt flew from his lap and Zachariah could barely keep up with the other man as they raced back to camp. The screaming came from inside the red-heads tent. Wyatt opened the flap but Zacharah couldn't see around him. The screaming quieted and only a quiet whimper could be heard.

Wyatt stood straight and turned to face Zachariah. 'She wants me to stay near her. She is afraid of the dark.'

"I was hoping you'd stay near me tonight," Zachariah admitted.

Wyatt's eyes widened but he shook his head. 'She needs me. Maybe I can calm her enough so she can tell us about Eleanor. Isn't that what you want?'

Truth was, yes, that was what Zachariah wanted more than anything—to have his sister back and safe. But, running a very close second to that was his want to have Wyatt held close to him on his bedroll as they gazed up at the stars.

He let out an aggravated growl that died on his lips when Wyatt suddenly stepped forward, rose onto his toes and pressed a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth before disappearing back into the tent.

Zachariah stared dumbfounded at that flap of cloth. Damnation. Hells bells. Shit fire and save on matches.

Zachariah was in a hell of a lot of trouble.