Page 41 of Wilder Heart

Wilder paused to take stock of himself. His abdomen and his back felt okay, which was probably the most important thing. His head, too. He nodded, holding out a hand for Cash to help him up.

Cash hesitated. “I’m not sure you should move just yet. If you injured your spine?—”

“I didn’t. I mean, I’m sure I’ll have some interesting bruises later, but my back is fine. I think—I think Blaze landed on my leg. Help me sit up.”

Cash took his hand and gently helped him upright. It was then, bending at the hip and moving his right leg, that he felt the first needle pricks of pain.

He groaned, gripping his leg just above the knee.

“What is it? Tell me,” Cash said, hovering over him. “Broken?”

“I don’t think so?”

“Dislocated?”

“Um.” It was hard to tell. Moving it caused pain to flare fast and bright, but… “I don’t think so.”

Cash pursed his lips. “Maybe a sprain or tear, then. Can I check you over?” He reached his hands toward Wilder’s leg, looking askance.

Wilder nodded, leaning back on his hands with a grimace.

Cash’s hands on his upper thigh would have been a sensual, intimate experience under any other circumstance. He worked his way gently down Wilder’s leg, checking his face often for signs of discomfort. When he reached his knee, he kept his touch very gentle. The pain worsened on the inside, which Wilder told him. There was some milder pain down his shin and calf, which probably meant bruising, and his ankle had definitely felt better.

“Okay, I feel confident that you’re not gonna die,” Cash said.

“Always good to hear, doc,” Wilder quipped.

“The bad news is that you’ll have to get back on a horse to make it to the ambulance and the good drugs. And getting on a horse is probably gonna hurt.”

Wilder snorted, then said seriously, “I don’t want to ride Blaze. Not until I’ve had a chance to look him over.”

“I’ll look him over,” Cash said. “You’re going to the hospital. And you’re not riding Blaze back, you’re riding with me. We’ll tie Blaze to Hexie and get you both home.”

Cash hauled Wilder to his feet, where he hobbled on one foot. Cash held him until he was sure he had his balance, and then he moved away quickly to grab Hexie’s reins from Lain. On Lain and Persimmon’s other side, Blaze was breathing hard, his ears back. Still shaken from the fall, or feeling some kind of pain?

“Blaze,” Wilder said, moving toward him and grunting in pain when he put weight on his bad leg.

Cash’s head whipped toward him. “Wilder, don’t do that! You might make it worse!”

Wilder shot him a glare he didn’t really mean. “I need to check on him. Blaze, c’mere, boy.” He clicked his tongue, holding his hands out. “Come on, come here.”

Lain glanced at Cash and reluctantly let go of Blaze’s reins as the horse inched closer, pressing his nose into Wilder’s palm and chuffing softly.

“Are you okay?” His voice quavered with emotion. He searched around them for the saddle, which was laying in the dirt a short distance away. It had completely come loose.How?How did this happen? He’d watched Cash put it on that morning, and it was fine for the first half of the day. Had his anger made him overlook a problem with the saddle at lunch? Did he stop to check the strap before he got back on like he’d been taught?

Guilt was a knot in his gut. He didn’t think so. And that meant this was his fault.

He was so consumed by it that he didn’t notice Lain had gotten down from Persimmon until he was there, laying the saddle over Blaze’s back and fixing it into place. Their eyes met, and Wilder resisted the urge to duck his head. His eyes swam with tears, but he was too wrung out to hide the guilt he felt.Lain would be within his rights to fire him over this. He’d let his anger get the best of him, once again, and this time an innocent animal suffered for his recklessness. He never meant to cause Blaze pain, and he was so,soglad the mustang didn’t seem to be injured.

Lain opened his mouth to speak, and Wilder prepared himself for a verbal lashing. He deserved it. If Lain wanted him gone, he wouldn’t even argue. Maybe it would be for the best. He hurt everything he touched.

Before he could speak, Cash was back. “Here, found your hat.” He plopped it on Wilder’s head. The front was bent, broken straw sticking up at an awkward angle.

Wilder took it off and looked it over. The whole thing was covered in dust. It looked more like crumpled paper than a functional hat. “It was trampled?”

“Better the hat than your head,” Cash said. “We’ll get you a new one. Now, come on. Think you can get up in the saddle? I’ll climb on behind you. If we take it easy, Hexie can carry both of us.”

Wilder wasn’t sure he’d be able to put his weight on one leg long enough to get up there, but they didn’t have a lot of options. He hobbled over to Hexie’s left side and gripped the saddle.

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