Page 90 of Saddles

Who’s?

I thought my heart was finding a normal rhythm, but this one-sided conversation is starting to worry me.

“I don’t care how much it costs!” he yells into the speaker.

Lori’s eyes widen and she glances back towards me.

“God damn it.” He presses the button and then tosses it into the console.

“Mason?” She lights her fingertips on his wrist. “What’s going on?”

“Ford isn’t answering. If I know himat all, he’s going to do something stupid. I tried to get the helicopter out there to check, but they’re on a life flight to Helena.” He slams his door, then stalks around the truck to open hers. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m just worried about that asshole.”

Even with the anger simmering so close to the surface, his touch is gentle with his wife helping her out of her seat.

Once Lori is down, he pulls my door open and holds out his hand.

“Is Ford going to be okay?” I ask him quietly.

Did I just screw everything up?

Mason’s palm pauses on my arm. “I think it depends on how much he cares for you.”

A cold chill rushes through me. “What does that mean? Please tell me.”

He reaches past and threads a dozen grocery bags over his wrists. “I’m assuming he told you about Sarah?”

I give him a quick nod, my guts churning.

His lips thin. “There was a couple of times I had to peel his pistol out of his hands. For all his gruff bullshit, he wears his heart on his sleeve.” He pauses, looking me hard in the eyes. “If he loves you, I ain’t there to save him.”

I’m frozen in place.

All the scattered thoughts congeal into one unifying moment.

I’ve never wanted someone to hate me as badly as I want Ford to.

My fingers dig into my palms to keep myself from screaming.

“He can’t though, can he? It’s only been a little over a week.” I manage to mumble, stumbling out of his way.

But I know I’m not fooling anyone.

Especially myself.

The intensity of what I feel about him is impossible to deny.

I can’t.

Mason stops as he’s walking away, then tips his hat towards Lori. “I knew the moment I met her.” The corner of his mouth lifts into a sad smile before he climbs the steps.

This can’t be happening.

Frantically, I grab as many plastic handles as I can and follow on his heels. “What can we do? I have to get to him, please?”

Mason piles the groceries on the broad table. “Sawyer’s loading the sleds. Him and Scotty are leaving as soon as we can load this up. It’s forty miles, but they can probably get there in a little over an hour if they haul ass.”

Lori starts opening the bags and sorting everything into piles when the whine of the four stroke engines get louder and stop by the porch.

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