Bridleton (15 page)

Chapter Nine

On the second day of branding the temperature soared well into the nineties, making everyone hotter, grittier and more short-tempered. The cows bellowed louder and longer, protesting being separated from their calves. Even the best cutting horses in the country had trouble staying ahead of the herd. Once in the branding chutes the calves kicked, bolted and generally made the job more difficult.

By late afternoon the last of the calves had been inoculated and branded. Trace turned the final stragglers into the pasture while Noah readjusted gates and fences near the corral. The vet bid them farewell and all the cowhands slowly made their way back toward the barnyard.

One lone mother cow still bawled at the pasture fence.

“I’m really sick of hearing that old cow holler,” said Cheyenne as she moved to where the others were gathering around the corral fencing. “I swear I heard it in my dreams last night. At first I was a little sympathetic but now I’m ready to have her butchered and grilled.”

Her grumbling brought smiles to a few weary, weathered faces.

“Now, Miss Cheyenne,” said Sam. “She’s deservin’ of a little extra sympathy. She holds us responsible for stealin’ her stillborn calf so she’s thinkin’ we done her wrong.”

“Or maybe she’s just protesting on behalf of all the mamas separated from their calves today,” said Trace as he joined them in the shade of the elm at the corner of the corral.

A sympathetic expression briefly crossed Cheyenne’s features but then the cow let out another bellowing complaint, grating on everyone’s frayed nerves. “I might have to go out there and strangle her myself. Then she can join her calf in longhorn heaven!”

A collection of tired chuckles followed her heated, useless threat. Andrea smiled and glanced across the corral toward the pasture fence where the cow stood. The rest of the cattle had gone back to grazing peacefully but the old mother cow just stood there glaring in the direction of the humans.

In a sweeping glance across the now-empty corral area, Andrea also noticed one of her leather work gloves on the ground a few yards inside the fence. Reaching to her back pocket, she realized she’d dropped it when she dismounted earlier. Gloves, like hats, were never taken lightly on the ranch. They were a necessity and she only had one pair that fit well.

Any or all of the men would offer to collect it for her but they were bone-tired too. They’d been on their feet all day while she’d spent most of her time in the saddle. A short walk would help her stretch the kinks from her muscles. At least that’s what she told herself as she mustered the energy to go after it.

Moving toward the fence, she climbed one rung and swung her leg over the top, then stepped to the ground inside the corral. “I dropped my glove,” she explained to the others as she slowly made her way across the bare, hard dirt. After picking up the glove she slapped it on her hand to shake off the dust and then tucked it in her pocket.

She turned to head back to the barn but caught her boot in a rut and twisted her ankle. Thrown off balance she fell hard, landing face-first in the dirt and knocking the breath from her body. Stunned and with her ears ringing, she lay still for a few seconds until her head cleared. At the same time she heard the unmistakable sound of wood splintering. A lot of wood splintering. The next thing she heard was a chorus of warning shouts.

By then the ground beneath her vibrated from the thundering hooves of an angry, two-thousand-pound cow. Andrea looked up to see the crazed heifer closing the distance between them with frightening speed. The rogue cow had her head to the ground, her horns tilted downward like swords, charging right at her. She tried to scramble to her feet but her legs got tangled and she couldn’t move quickly enough.

She screamed. The others were over the fence in a rush attempting to distract the charging animal but it paid no attention. Andrea watched, horrified, as the cow’s wickedly sharp horns aimed straight for her head.

Then, suddenly, Noah raced between them, grabbing one of the horns, throwing his weight against the cow and trying to change her maniacal charge. Andrea screamed hysterically as the cow lifted its massive head, tossing him in the air as if his two hundred pounds was lighter than a fly. She saw the other horn catch him in the chest midair. Blood gushed and he got thrown hard, landing flat on his back.

By then several of the men had lassos in the air, roping and wrangling with the cow to pull her away from them. Andrea’s scream lodged in her throat as she stared at Noah’s motionless body. She could barely breathe as she crawled on hands and knees to reach him.

Please, please, please, God, no!
she prayed silently
. Let him be all right. I can’t live without him. Please let him be okay!

“Noah! Noah!” Her voice held a rising panic as she reached him and tried to see the extent of the damage. So still. So frighteningly still. She’d never seen him look so pale and lifeless.

“Please, Noah, please!” She ran her hands over his chest where the cow’s horn had ripped through his shirt and sliced his skin. Her stomach roiled at the pool of warm, sticky blood. He’d hit the ground so hard. His lung could have been punctured, his head concussed. He could be bleeding internally. A horrifying list of possibilities raced through her mind.

In the background she heard someone shouting for first aid, someone else shouting to call for help. Another suggestion to call the vet back to the ranch. She placed a hand on Noah’s heart and leaned over to listen for the sound of breathing. When his warm breath sighed over her skin, she felt like sobbing. She cupped his face in her hands and coaxed him to respond.

“Noah, please, talk to me!” The words sounded hoarse and desperate to her own ears. She didn’t want to frighten him but she was far from calm herself. Trying again, she kept her tone soft and soothing. “Noah, darling, please, please!”

After what seemed like an eternity later he opened his eyes and looked directly at her. His expression was confused at first, and then his features tightened with memory and alarm. He reached up and grabbed her arm.

“You’re okay?” he asked, his tone gruff, his eyes dark with concern.  

Tears streaked through the dust on Andrea’s face. Annoyed at the blinding moisture, she swiped them away. “I’m fine. I promise,” she said, her hands dropping lightly to his chest.

“Then why are you crying?”

“Because you scared the hell out of me,” she whispered. “That old cow gored you and knocked you unconscious.”

Noah reached his free hand to his chest, feeling the wound. He started to sit up.

“Lie still,” she said. “You might have a concussion or internal injuries. You shouldn’t move until we get a backboard out here and get you to the emergency room.”

He ignored her protests and carefully sat up, rubbing his chest. “It’s just a scrape. It’s not deep. I’ve had worse.”

“You’re bleeding profusely,” she argued, pressing her hand over the wound to stop the flow of blood. “You should be still.”

“Probably needs stitches.”

The others had gathered around them. Noah reached a hand to Trace and he pulled him to his feet. He swayed briefly but steadied himself then turned and offered Andrea a hand. She shook her head in frustration, grasping his hand and letting him help her to her feet. Her left ankle protested but held her weight.

“You’re sure you’re okay?” he asked.

“You’re the one who’s bleeding,” she snapped in irritation.

Noah had the nerve to laugh at her. “You always did hate being scared, didn’t you, Drea? Did that mean old cow give you a bad scare?” His words and tone teased but his eyes and expression were stone-cold serious as he studied her face.

She swiped the last of her tears from her face and glared at him. “The cow didn’t scare me half as much as you did. What the hell were you thinking, trying to wrestle that stupid beast? It’s ten times bigger than you!”

He didn’t bother to respond but she read the message in his eyes. She’d been in danger. He’d done his best to protect her. That’s the kind of man he was, the kind who’d won and kept her heart despite years of separation. The kind of man a woman could depend on in any circumstance, however difficult. A wave of love washed over her, so overwhelming her knees nearly buckled. She hoped he could see it in her eyes, believe it with his heart, but she’d always felt so unsure and vulnerable with him.

Then Doc showed up and half a dozen people tried to explain the situation. Noah wanted the vet to stitch his wound but the doctor refused, ordering him to the emergency room for a complete checkup. Andrea expected him to refuse so she insisted her ankle needed medical attention too. That swayed his decision.

Doc cleaned and covered the wound with gauze to stem the flow of blood while everyone talked a mile a minute. Nanette, who’d handled dozens of emergencies in her time, showed up and insisted she and Sam could supervise the evening’s chores. That freed Trace and Cheyenne to drive the wounded to the county hospital.

Andrea’s plan to accompany Noah to the hospital backfired a little when he demanded she have her ankle x-rayed. Chey stayed with her and Trace stuck by Noah in their individual waiting areas. She strained to hear what the doctor told him but all she could hear was the drone of male conversation. A nurse’s aide distracted her with a bunch of questions and then a technician wheeled her to the lab for an x-ray, eventually returning her to the cubicle. After an interminable wait they heard Noah being given parting instructions on how to care for his wound.

When the same doctor, a young, attractive resident, came to her cubicle, he flirted shamelessly with Cheyenne but refused to tell them anything about Noah’s condition. He prodded and twisted her foot, studied the x-ray of her ankle and then diagnosed a mild sprain.

“I could have told him that if he’d asked how it actually felt,” grumbled Andrea when they finally joined the men in the waiting room. “I can put weight on it without any pain.”

Trace stood as they approached. “He didn’t even ask if it hurt?”

“He was too busy flirting with Chey,” she explained.

“I can’t imagine why,” put in Cheyenne. “I’m filthy and I stink.”

“Think a little dirt can turn off a man’s interest?” challenged Trace. Andrea tuned out their bickering and focused on Noah as he came to his feet more slowly. When their gazes locked each searched the other’s expression for signs of pain.

“I’m fine.” She answered his unspoken question and silently asked one of her own.

“Me too,” he said. “Sore but no major damage. Just a few stitches and a tetanus shot. Doc could have done that and saved us a trip.”

“Better to be safe,” said Chey as she and Trace herded them toward the parking lot. “I never want another scare like you two gave me this evening, do you hear? And I’m positive I want that nasty old cow slaughtered.”

“Not the heifer’s fault,” Trace argued. “She’s just doing what nature created her to do.”

Cheyenne didn’t want to hear it. “Stomping and goring people? If that’s natural I’ll eat my boots. The animal is a menace.”

Trace defended the mama cow again as he drove them home. They continued to squabble, jumping from subject to subject. Noah sat quietly in the front seat of the truck because he needed more leg room. Andrea sat in the cramped backseat of the club cab with her legs tucked to the side. She badly wanted to touch him and hold him but knew she’d have to wait. Patience is a virtue, she kept reminding herself.

Nanna and Sam met them at the front door where Cheyenne briefly provided details of the emergency room visit. Once everyone had answered questions they decided to head for bed. It was going on midnight before Andrea could shower off the dirt and grime of the day. Her ankle felt tender but her boot had protected it from serious damage or the accompanying discomfort. Every other inch of her body ached from a long day’s work and her none-too-gentle collision with the ground. She imagined Noah felt a whole lot worse.

As soon as she’d cleaned up she donned an old, modest yellow cotton nightgown and robe and then headed across the balcony to his bedroom. When she entered the dimly lit room she saw him coming from the bathroom, gloriously naked, rubbing his hair dry with a towel. Her breath hitched at his lean, sculpted beauty. A huge white bandage marred the masculine good looks and made her stomach roil. He’d risked his life for her today. The knowledge was humbling.

When he caught sight of her he tossed aside the towel and gave her a slight smile. “If you’ve come to be ravished, I might not be in top form tonight.”

With that, he slowly crossed the room and eased himself onto the bed. By the time Andrea reached his side he’d stretched out full length and dropped his head to the pillow. Her gaze swept over his impressive form with slow admiration. A frown quickly transformed her features when she focused on the darkening bruises on his otherwise golden skin.

“You didn’t get your stitches wet, did you?” she asked, stepping close and running a light finger over the edge of the bandage. The skin around it had turned an ugly purple. “Were you supposed to shower?” She hadn’t heard all the doctor’s instructions and he hadn’t mentioned them.

“I was filthy. The ER doc gave me some plastic stuff to protect the bandages.”

The explanation seemed to take all his strength. Andrea wanted to comfort him, give him support and generally help in any way possible. She knew there wasn’t anything else to do. He needed rest but she didn’t want him out of her sight.

“Mind if I sleep with you tonight?” she asked softly.

Noah opened his beautiful eyes and stared at her for a long, silent minute. The deep, powerful connection between them didn’t need to be explained. It just existed. He patted the bed beside him. She switched off the bedside lamp, took off her robe and carefully slid into bed with him.

After leaning over to brush a soft kiss across his lips, she settled into her side of the bed, her hand on his arm. She needed the contact as much as she needed her next breath, needed to feel the heat of his body. A deep-seated contentment settled over them. It only took a couple minutes for Noah’s breathing to drop into a slow, steady rhythm of sleep.