Dare shot her a quick look that promised retribution, then Janetta was on him, and he was swept up on the tide of orders she issued. Angie smiled in satisfaction. She’d come in for her own share of Janetta-style attention, eventually, but a sprained ankle was boring compared to a gunshot wound.
Things happened fast after that. Ray made his calls, and soon his place was swarming with law enforcement and wildlife management types, as well as medics. The medics didn’t have a lot to do, because by then Janetta had done a lot of cleaning and bandaging. Angie and Dare were both transported to Butte for medical attention. Her ankle was X-rayed, just to make sure she didn’t have a simple fracture, but Dare not only had to be stitched up; he was put on an IV round of heavy antibiotics, which meant he had to stay overnight, which massively pissed him off.
There was a mountain of absolutely necessary reports that had to be filed, and an endless supply of questions that had to be answered. Angie and Dare were kept separated, questioned separately, but though it was annoying she wasn’t alarmed, because when the authorities got up to the three kill sites they’d find exactly what they were told they’d find.
Word spread fast. The next day Dare was released from the hospital, without so much as even a low fever. A small group of friends gathered at Lattimore’s and went with the authorities up into the mountains to search for their missing horses. The group returned that afternoon with her three, which had been found fairly quickly—they’d pulled their reins free but remained together, which wasn’t all that surprising.
Angie almost burst into tears when she saw them; she had to get over this sudden inclination to let things make her teary-eyed, but the truth was it would take time for her emotions to settle down. Samson nudged her, hard enough to almost knock her off her feet, as if he was admonishing her for not taking better care of them, and she briefly laid her head against his muscled neck. They were in pretty good shape—hungry, some scratches, but no damage other than that. Some of the tension drained away from her, now that she had them back and they were okay.
Dare’s buckskin wasn’t found for three more days, miles to the north. When the animal was finally trailered back to Dare’s barn, he called the horse every name in the book and then some, all the while gently patting its neck and calming down the nervous animal.
“My horses are evidently smarter than yours,” Angie told him, just to take a jab, because she’d been taking it easy on him—after all, he’d been shot—and enough was enough.
“He’s not much more than a baby,” Dare had countered. “Give him a couple more years, and he’ll be a damn good trail horse. I’m a patient man. I can wait.”
That about said it all, though she’d have described it more as stubborn than patient. He simply didn’t give up.
After about a week, they’d settled down to serious discussions. Somehow, by then, there hadn’t seemed any doubt in either of their minds that they’d be getting married, so much so that he never actually asked. They simply started talking about property and making wedding plans, and that was it.
They got married late in the spring, after the heavy winter snow had finally melted and the flowers were blooming. Angie would’ve been happy with a judge and a few friends, but Dare had insisted, in his words, “If we’re going to fucking do this, we’re doing it fucking right.” She hadn’t argued with him.
So here they were, in church on a bright Saturday afternoon. There were flowers and candles, well-dressed friends and neighbors who had gathered for the day. Her old friends from Billings had even made the two-hundred-plus-mile drive to be there, and she wasn’t even embarrassed that they’d witnessed her first fiasco of a wedding. That was then, and this was, well, this was Dare. They had even celebrated with her—by e-mail, and completely without sarcasm—when she announced that she’d fallen in love with the man she’d previously referred to only as The Asshole. Only true friends would do that.
Dare hadn’t bought her property; she felt guilty about Harlan not getting the sales commission, but he didn’t seem to mind. Her property remained in her name, because taking out a new mortgage on it would just add more to their debt load, which didn’t make sense. With their guide businesses combined, financially they were in good shape; they could have afforded a bigger wedding, but that wasn’t anything either of them wanted.
She wore a white gown. It was nothing fancy, just a simple sheath dress. Her shoes were awesome. Normally she didn’t get all excited about shoes, but this was her wedding day and she wanted to be able to show her kids—there was a shocker, Dare wanted kids, and when she thought about it she wanted them, too, with a ferocity that surprised even herself—her sparkly and beautiful shoes, especially if one of those kids was a daughter. She wore her hair down, sleek and heavy, the way Dare liked it, and carried a bouquet of spring flowers. Harlan was going to give her away.
Dare had gotten more and more testy as their wedding date got closer, because the one thing she hadn’t done was move in with him, no matter how he argued and growled. Their little community was too small, the values too traditional. They seldom spent a night apart, either at his place or hers, but she insisted on keeping a separate household until they got married.
And that day was here, finally.
Angie held on to Harlan’s arm, her heartbeat hammering as her gaze roamed up and down the aisle of the small church. People had already turned to look at her, but the music hadn’t yet begun for her to begin the long walk. At the altar, the preacher waited along with Dare. There was no best man, no bridal attendants, just Dare and her. There were familiar faces turned toward her, but all she could see was her soon-to-be husband—in a suit. Damn, he looked good, tall and hard and tough. He was the reason her heart was hammering, and those damn butterflies were swarming in her stomach.