In Wilderness Found

Chapter 9: Green Eyes Glitter

Ellis is confused.

His boots slosh with water as he comes to a halt in the middle of the wilderness. He stares, incapable of movement, at the scene before him. 

A blaring gunshot brings him back to the reality of the situation he’s witnessing.

The coyote who stands about fifty yards in front of him, wet and bloodied from the fight, crumples to the ground. A rough-looking coonhound sniffs at the creature’s dead body before turning around.

“Is that you, Gal?” he questions. While following the dog’s eyes to the source of gun fire, Ellis loses his breath in his throat.

Madison, startled by the surprise intrusion, turns abruptly to look at the fellow beside her.

Before he can say anything, she slips another round into the .44 caliber and finds herself pointing the pistol at a man for the second time in two days.

Ellis raises his arms in innocence, but he still can’t bring himself to speak.

Even though that pistol is aimed on the space right between his eyes, his awe is outweighing his fright. His admiration for her strongly set jaw and her confident grip on the firearm is overpowering his common sense. Even with his life in her hands at this moment, she is the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

He takes in her rain drenched auburn hair and battered dress. While her two-handed grip on the gun is confident, especially considering what she’s just killed with it, he can still spot a slight shake in her fingers. Her green eyes glitter with surprise and adrenaline.

Her nostrils flare out when she asks, “Who are you?”

Ellis opens his mouth to speak, but he stops when the hound dog steps toward him with recognition. 

Madison watches in astonishment as her protector leaves her side and strides to the dark-eyed man eagerly, her tail wagging. He lowers one hand to put his palm on the dog’s head in a pat, all while eyeing Madison warily.

“Gal?” Madison questions, suddenly remembering what he’d called the dog.

He nods. “She’s my dog.”

Madison lowers the pistol slightly, remembering the EC engraved on the dog’s collar. Bluebell, or Gal now, supposedly, sits happily at the man’s side.

“My name’s Ellis,” he finally says, making his voice as soft and kind as possible. When she doesn’t lower the weapon fully, he pulls the rifle from his shoulder and sits it on the ground. 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he tells her.

Madison lets her eyes roam the man now that he’s unarmed. His broad shoulders are covered by a thick coat and a checked button-up shirt. She thinks she can see dark hair peeking from below his soaked cowboy hat. Black stubble decorates his sharp jawline. He has brown eyes that gleam with a gentleness that makes Madison’s heart thump for an unknown reason, and she can tell that he’s consciously trying to appear non-threatening so that he won’t scare her further.

It has been a long time since she’s felt that around a man. 

“I’m Madison,” she says, while lowering the pistol to her side. He does nothing but watch her thoughtfully as she packs the weapon into her satchel and lifts it up on her shoulder.

“Is she alright?” Madison points to Gal, who is drenched and blood-spotted, but appearing content as her tongue lolls to one side.

Gal, of course. Ellis curses himself mentally for not thinking of her sooner. He pulls his attention from the fierce woman in front of him to crouch down so he can examine the hound. Her tail thumps wildly as he looks her over.