Rugged Hearts by Amanda McIntyre Page B

What are you taking? Is it a class in town?”
    Wyatt laughed quietly. “Online. Clearly, I’m a hermit.”
    “Yeah, not the serial-killer variety just yet. Good to know you’ll be talking to someone other than Sadie while we’re gone. Even if it is through the computer.”
    Serial killer . The similarity in their descriptions of him caused Wyatt to consider sharing his experience with his beautiful visitor. But he held back when he reminded himself that nothing would likely come of it. Such an offer to Rein, even in passing was akin to tossing a dog a bone and then trying to wrestle it back. “How’s my ornery brother?”
    “He found a bar just down the street from the hotel.”
    “Keep an eye on him. He usually knows when to quit, but sometimes he thinks he’s a cowboy Casanova.”
    Rein snorted. “You don’t have to tell me. I’ll keep him in line and call you later. You sure everything is okay?”
    Wyatt frowned into the phone. “Good luck with that, and yeah, everything’s fine, why?”
    “I don’t know, you sound a little distant, like you’ve got a lot on your mind. Kind of weird- sounding is all.”
    “Okay, buddy, enough of this mumbo-jumbo. Stop trying to change me. I’m fine with the choices I’ve made, really. And if I want to start being social, I will, got it?”
    “Got it. I’ll let Dalton know you sent your holiday wishes when he wakes up.”
    “He’ll know better.” Wyatt laughed. “But I’ll talk to you before then. You guys take care and try to stay out of trouble.”
    “You too. Merry Christmas if I don’t get the chance to tell you.”
    “Oh, stop that. Of course you will.” He hung up and stared out the window, his mind remembering another Christmas when his life changed forever.
    The fire in the grand stone fireplace, dwindled now to embers, left a soft glow in the dark room. Dalton was already in bed, eager for morning and Santa’s arrival. Wyatt, at the age of eleven, wanted to enjoy a bit longer, the colored lights and the aroma of fresh evergreen on his first real Christmas tree. Wyatt had never seen anything so majestic and beautiful, and he’d decided that if not one present appeared, he’d still consider himself the luckiest kid alive. He had a mom and the best ever stepdad, and they lived on a real ranch with horses and everything. They’d lived there almost a year, after their mom had met Jed at a New Year’s Eve party up at Dusty’s Pub. The three of them—his mom, Dalton, and him—had been traveling through on their way from Minnesota to Nevada when they’d stopped at End of the Line due to a storm. It was a whirlwind romance, with a short courtship. And within a few months, Wyatt and Dalton were standing in front of a justice of the peace, watching their mom marry the man they called, Big Jed.
    “Come on, Wyatt. Time for bed.”
    His mother swept her hand over his head. She thought he hadn’t noticed, but he’d been watching her all night. How quiet she’d been. It was their first Christmas together, but she hardly talked to Jed, and she hadn’t helped them decorate the tree. That much didn’t bother him. She wasn’t the domestic type, but her reclusive behavior gave Wyatt a strange, hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach. He knew the look. He’d seen it on her face just before she’d up and move them to another town. Disturbed by a strange feeling, he lay awake that night and stared at the ceiling. He’d never been to church, never really talked to God much, but that night, he whispered a small prayer in the only way he knew how, pleading with whatever power might have an influence on his mother. “How could she not be happy here? We have everything we could ever hope to have. It’s perfect. Please don’t let this get messed up.”
    The next day, Christmas morning, he awoke and looked across the room to see Dalton’s bed empty. With an unexplainable excitement, he pushed off his covers and stuffed his feet into the warm deerskin