Riding the Storm (10 page)

Nate shook his head. “This is not good.”

He and Jolene were both breathing hard after a wild ride across the perimeter of the Rock-a-Bye Ranch into Double J territory. Their chests rose and fell in deep gasps that matched the rhythm of the horses’ restless pawing and periodic efforts to shake the water from their skin. Jolene’s wind-whipped cheeks provided the brightest spots of color in a landscape where shrouds of rain turned land and sky into one endless gray horizon.

“Not good at all.”

Jolene had given up trying to keep the poncho’s hood up over her head. The rain had turned her hair a dark gold, and rivulets ran down her face from every loose strand plastered to her forehead. She shoved the tendrils away from her eyes, giving him a glimpse of the fear and compassion there. “We have to help him.”

“He may not let us,” Nate warned. But he was already assessing the force of the wind, the speed and depth of the instant river. The physical strength he had left after too much Texas and too little sleep.

Jolene raised her hand to shield her eyes from grit blowing on the tornadic gusts of air from the east. The sixty to seventy mile per hour winds probably marked the leading edge of Hurricane Damon. That meant the weather and Rocky’s chances of survival—and their own—were only going to get worse.

“I wonder how long he’s been trapped there. Maybe he’s been weakened by the struggle,” Jolene suggested. “If he’s tired, it might make him halfway amenable to being helped.”

Might. Halfway.
Half a bull was still a mighty dangerous adversary to tangle with.

The animal’s mournful bellowing didn’t seem to phase the horses, but it was obviously having an effect on Jolene’s compassionate heart. “If we cut him free, maybe he can get himself out.”

“If he’ll let me get that close.” The last time Nate had gone head-to-head with an angry bull had nearly cost him his life. It
had
cost him his career. And it had damn well handicapped his entire perception of life—how precious it was, how easily it could be thrown away.

A soft hand on his thigh tore him from his thoughts. He glanced down at Jolene’s long, capable fingers—strong in intent, yet timid in their touch. He looked up into her eyes. She squinted against the wind and debris, but he saw no fight there. “You said a bull did the damage to your leg. Are you afraid of him?”

When she spoke in that same tender voice she used to soothe her baby, Nate understood how this woman could create a loving home—full of bright smiles and warm hugs, compassion and support, with strong roots that went right down into the Texas soil. All the good things a man wanted to hold on to and protect with his life.

Something he refused to name shifted inside him, and he recognized his longing to be a part of that world, so like the one he’d lost when his parents had died. The one he’d lost a second time when Grandpa Nate had passed away. The one he’d been unable to rediscover since his brother and sister had moved on with lives of their own.

But he was quickly learning that this woman would be just as kind, just as concerned to a stranger as she would be to the man she loved. Nate buried his own yearnings and accepted her compassion for what it was and nothing more.

“Nah, I’ve worked around cattle too long to fear them. I think of it more like a healthy respect for the enemy.” He laced his fingers through hers and gave them a reassuring squeeze, frowning when he realized how chilled they were. “You got a pair of gloves you can put on?”

She pulled away, tucking both hands around her saddle horn and ignoring his concern. “If this dredges up
some bad memory, I can try to climb down there and cut him loose. I have wire-cutters in my bag.”

“No way.” He looked straight across at Jolene, then reached over and tucked her hair behind her ear, demanding her attention. His vow to keep his distance didn’t apply when it came to protecting her and the baby. “I will ride on past and let that bull drown unless you promise me you’ll stay at a safe distance with the horses.”

“But he’s unpredictable as it is. If he’s hurt, there’s no telling what he’ll do. You’ll need my help.”

“I know what one of those creatures can do to a man. I know how he can tear your body—your whole life apart.” Her knuckles turned white as she grasped the horn. He wanted to touch her again, to apologize for his harsh tone. But this was too serious to muddy his intentions with anything other than his words. “You can drive your truck fast, ride a horse through a hurricane, or hate my guts. But I will not budge on this.”

“But it’s too dangerous. What if we rope him and I tie him off on the saddle—”

“Jolene!” Her mouth snapped shut on a weak sigh. She looked so pale. Her shoulders sagged, and the unguarded moment of defeat revealed her fatigue. When she turned her head away, a shiver cascaded from her shoulders down through her hips and legs, shaking her hard enough to disturb Sonny beneath her. “Jolene?”

How long had she been running on pure bravado and willpower?
Screw this.
Nate pulled off his cap and plunked it on top of her head in an effort to conserve whatever body heat she had left. He leaned across his saddle, reaching for the blanket she’d tied behind her.
“We need to get you home. Get you warm and dry and get some food into you. You and the baby need to rest.”

“No.” She grabbed his wrist to stop his efforts. Her icy fingers held on with surprising strength. “Help Rocky if you can. Please. Not just for Lily, but for his sake. He’s in pain and he’s scared. I’ll stay with the horses. I promise.”

Those blue eyes were damn near impossible to resist. Nate quickly debated the merits of physical health versus mental anguish. But if he worked fast, he could help her with both. He looked deeply into her eyes, verifying her promise. She hadn’t said anything she didn’t mean yet.

But Nate was already breathing deeply, in through his nose, out through his mouth, slowing his pulse, clearing his mind, cinching his courage firmly into place. “You got a pen at your ranch that’ll hold him?” Jolene nodded. “If I can fish him up out of that arroyo, we’ll herd him to your place until this blows over. But once we get there, I’ll take care of whatever needs to be handled. You change your clothes and get straight to bed. And we don’t try to save anything or anybody else until Damon is gone. Understood?”

She nodded. Her fingers eased their grip ever so slightly so she could take his hand and squeeze it tight. “Thank you.”

He raised her hand to his lips and kissed the soft, wet skin. “Don’t thank me yet, angel.”

He had to survive the rescue first.

His knee protested the climb to the ground. Judging by the stiffness, he had some major swelling going on. That knock on the dashboard, the twist in the ditch—as
well as fatigue and weather—had definitely exacerbated the injury, which normally didn’t give him such fits. But Nate gritted his teeth and bore the pain the way he did every other day of his life. He handed Checker’s reins over to Jolene, pulled the wire-cutters from the saddlebag and prayed.

Leaving Jolene and the horses a good twenty yards behind him, Nate limped toward the arroyo, speaking softly into the wind. “Easy, boy. I think you should know that I’m smarter than you. And if you work with me, I can help you.”

Rocky spotted him halfway there and made another valiant effort to free himself.

Nate paused, propping his hands on his hips and shaking his head. “Now what did I tell you?” Other than twitching his cream-colored ears and snorting hot, steamy breath through his nostrils, the bull didn’t move.

“You and I don’t have to become friends, but we do need to cooperate.” Nate moved closer, keeping his voice calm. “The little lady seems to think you deserve a hand, and I volunteered. That’s what I do, you know. Volunteer. Help out where I’m needed.” He was almost to the edge of the arroyo now. “To tell you the truth, you and the lady have a lot in common. Well, sure, she’s a lot prettier than you are, and believe me, she smells a might better. But she’s stubborn when it comes to letting somebody take care of her. Even when it’s in her best interests and the man’s willing to do it.”

Rocky
had
been weakened by his effort to escape. He tried to spin around when Nate came too close, but the force of the water hit his flanks and nudged him back to the side of the ditch.

Allowing the bull a moment to get used to his proximity, Nate clipped the three wires away from the nearest fence post. He positioned himself to avoid the dangerous barbs that snapped back like a rubber band once he’d eliminated the tension from the lines. “See? That’s a little better, isn’t it? Now be patient and I’ll get the other side.”

Apparently the rapidly rising water had hidden a fence that dipped down into the arroyo and Rocky had either walked blindly into it or been swept against it. The rain had already loosened the sandy soil, and the bull had pulled a post from the bank, giving the lines just enough flexibility to entrap him.

Nate sniffed the air as he tried to figure out the safest way to approach the animal. About the only advantage he could see was that the wire had wound around Rocky’s two left legs and caught on one horn, keeping the bull’s head turned back toward his distinctive Brahman hump. He might be trussed up enough to keep him from goring Nate while he worked.

But Nate could still be crushed by the bull’s weight, struck by a flailing hoof. And without a rodeo clown to distract the bull, once those horns were free, Nate would have to get himself out of there pronto, in case Rocky chose vengeance over freedom.

His decision made, Nate breathed in deeply, settling his nerves the way he used to do before dropping into the chute during his rodeo days. As quickly as he grounded himself, he knew he had to get things moving. The tang of salt in the wind stung his nose. It was the scent of the ocean—forty miles inland. It was Damon.

“I need you to set a good example for Jolene.” Braced
for the worst and still hoping for a miracle, Nate waded in. His knee throbbed like a bad omen as he made his way down the uneven slope to the bottom. His back and thighs were getting sore, compensating for the pain. “Show how you can be strong and still accept a little common sense help from a friend. Of course, you might not like me any better than she does. Called me Solomon like I’m some old fart. But I’m her friend. I’m your friend, too. And whether you like it or not, I’m going to do this for you.”

The cold water buffeted Nate’s body from the chest down. His shoes were sinking into the muddy bottom. But he moved close enough to feel heat and smell the fear and panic emanating from Rocky’s body. Keeping one eye on his half-ton nemesis, Nate reached beneath the water, gripped a wire between its barbs and snipped it as he spoke. “I don’t expect you to thank me, I don’t expect you to owe me anything in return. But please,” he cut a second wire, “try not to hurt me any more than you have to. Surprisingly enough, I do feel pain.”

Jolene’s muffled shout sounded like a whisper in his ear over the slap of the water, the snorts of the bull and the roar of the wind. “Are you talking him to death or setting him free? You’re using more words on him than you’ve said to me all day long.”

Nate almost grinned. “See what I mean? So do me the favor?” He made another cut, freeing one leg. He dodged it as the bull kicked out. With room to maneuver now, Rocky hauled himself partway up the muddy bank. But…

“Ah, hell.” Nate saw it coming. The current lifted him
off his feet and pushed him forward just as Rocky slid back into the water. One taut strand of wire still curled around the bull’s horn, twisting his head back toward his shoulder.

Toward Nate.

Nate threw his arms back and kicked out, desperately trying to tread water and stop his forward momentum. He flipped over and tried to swim. But with a tool in his hand and a bum knee…

“Nate?”

Rocky bellowed. “Hell.” Nate whirled around. If he timed this right, he could free Rocky and the bull would climb instead of charge.

Or Nate could wind up dead.

“Move it!” he shouted, startling the bull just as his hand snagged the wire. Rocky yanked, jerking Nate right up out of the water. The bull came down. Nate cut.

The wire snapped back as Rocky bolted free, the barbs tearing into Nate’s shoulder and snagging his jaw. “Son of a bitch.”

“Nate!”

Jolene screamed his name. It was the last thing he heard as the water surged around him and pulled him under.

“N
ATE
!”

Before his coffee-dark hair disappeared under the water, Jolene had spurred her horse. With Checker in tow, she rode to the fence post closest to the arroyo, shouting at Rocky to keep him out of the water and away from Nate. Wherever he’d gone.

Had Rocky crushed him when he’d come down off the bank?

Had Nate’s knee given out?

Was he drowning? Dead?

Her fear was a powerful stimulant, erasing cold and fatigue in a single heartbeat.

“Ee-yah!”
She charged Sonny straight at the bull, turning him away from the arroyo. Nate’s cap flew off her head and was lost. She pursued Rocky just long enough to ensure he’d lost interest in the man who’d saved his ornery hide. Once she was certain he’d keep trotting north along the fence line, Jolene spun around and galloped back to the water.

She’d dismounted and tied off both horses at the nearest fence post before she saw Nate surface again.

“Nate!”

“Damn wire.” He cursed again, then dove back under. Or was he pulled?

Jolene shed her poncho and scrambled down into the ditch. Waist-deep, she grabbed her belly and shivered at the shock of cold water. “I’m sorry, baby. Be strong. Mommy has to help.”

Nate spluttered to the surface again. His stern eyes locked on hers. “Get the hell out of here!”

Not gonna happen. “What’s wrong?”

He sank before he could answer.

Jolene took a deep breath and dove into the rushing current.

A pair of strong arms latched on to her and dragged her to the surface. “Jolene.”

Blood. On his face and neck.

“You’re hurt.”

Nate gasped for breath. “Get out.”