Marooned with the Maverick

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.”

Collin gave a humorless chuckle. “Yeah, one good thing about breaks in the levee. They tend to bring the water level way down.”

“That they do,” Hank concurred. “Plus, there’s no rain in the forecast for at least the next week. So we’re unlikely to have a repeat of what happened yesterday—oh, and the town council called a meeting at noon in the town hall to talk cleanup and such. Wish I could be there, but I got way too much cleanup of my own out at my place and I need to get after it. Bought the bleach I needed, at least. I can disinfect my well.” Hank tipped his hat.

“You stay safe and take it slow on the road, Hank,” Collin said.

“Will do. You keep the faith, now.” The rancher rolled on by.

Collin put his arm around her. “You’re lookin’ kind of stricken, Willa.”

She leaned into him, because she could. She needed someone to lean on at that moment. And Collin was so solid. So warm. So very much alive. “I’d been letting myself hope that at least no one had died—and I really liked Mayor McGee.”

“I hear you. Hunter was a good man and this town could sure use him about now.” He pulled her a little closer in the shelter of his arm and turned them both back to the pickup, Buster at their heels. The dog jumped in back again and they got in the cab.

As they drove across the bridge, Willa tried not to dread what might be waiting for them on the other side.

Chapter Four

It didn’t look so awfully bad, Willa told herself as they drove along Sawmill Street. In fact, there on the northern edge of town, things seemed almost normal. Willa spotted a couple of downed trees and some flattened fences, but nothing like the devastation they’d witnessed coming in.