Chance’s senses revved to full awareness. This guy was moving too fast. He could hurt her. “Be careful. Her ankle’s broken, and she’s badly dehydrated.”
The rescuer touched her gently on the cheek. “Kyndal? Can you hear me?”
Chance watched her eyes focus and saw them soften in recognition. Something about her look identified their rescuer even before she spoke the name.
“Ranger Rick.”
She took a long, labored breath and closed her eyes.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
KYNDAL BREATHED A PRAYER of relief as she hung up the phone and sank back into the pillows. Despite his bad toupee, Charlie Short was a good person. He’d read about her and Chance’s ordeal in the newspaper and called to give her a couple of days’ extension to get her photos and résumé to him.
That was especially uplifting because Jaci had brought her different news. Shop-a-Lot had left her a sympathetic message that they wished her well, but they’d lost a week of revenue and had replaced her with another photographer. They had, however, forgiven the broken lamps and weren’t charging her for them.
Her mom had also left a message. She and Lloyd were somewhere out in New Mexico and liked it so much they were going to stay for a while. Would Kyndal please check on the house occasionally?
Tears stung her eyes as she realized she could be dead right now, and her mom wouldn’t even know.
The frustration in her chest made her want to heave something out the hospital window, but the only thing within arm’s reach was her laptop. She grabbed it and flipped it open instead.
She had a portfolio to prepare.
Jaci had downloaded the photographs from the camera before bringing the laptop to the hospital. Kyndal hadn’t seen them yet, and while a part of her was excited at the prospects, another part dreaded the memories that would be dredged up.
She set up the files and began going through the shots, dragging one after another into the group she would send to Charlie.
The sheer number was staggering. She never would’ve guessed how many shots she’d taken over the four-day span. They chronicled the journey from beginning to end, and the deeper they dragged her back, the more agonizing it was to look at them.
Not that they weren’t good. They were. As a matter of fact, she knew in her heart they were amazing from the reaction she had to them.
The ones of Chance were particularly difficult to look at. The early ones showed him smiling or talking as he explained something about the cave. But there was one near the end that was so poignant she couldn’t take her eyes off it even though she started to sob when it flashed onto the screen.
It was a shot of him in the ancient room, and she didn’t even remember taking it. It was as though she’d been guided by instinct.
The camera caught him as he hovered over the tiny clay bowl of water, body poised in a tense crouch, hand extended and reaching but obviously afraid to grasp. The whiskers of his black beard intensified the dark circles of his eyes—eyes that bore a look of pure anguish. And all about him were the red walls with their painted ebony eyes, seeming content to watch the horrific drama play out without the least bit of preference for the outcome.
It was the best photo she’d ever taken, the kind that made the national news and won Pulitzers and solidified careers. The shot she’d been waiting for that would make her somebody.
But she couldn’t use it…couldn’t use any of the shots of the ancient room. She remembered too well the graffiti scrawled across the walls of the room near the entry.
Public knowledge of this room might lead to its vandalism, and she didn’t want that guilt hanging over her. Chance had trusted her with his cave. She wouldn’t betray that trust.
A soft knock on her door startled her. “Come in.” The figure that stepped across the threshold caused a lump to form in her throat. “Rick.” She stretched her hands out to him.
The ranger had been on her mind a great deal since she’d been here. He was a fabulous guy, but making love with Chance had her all mixed up. She just wasn’t ready to start dating anyone yet.
He crossed the room and took her hands, giving them a gentle squeeze. “How you doing, lady?”
“I had a clean break.” She pointed to the cast and the crutches leaning on the wall. “We