by Carly Bloom
“The smoke is working,” Ruben said. “You just missed a raccoon and a skunk.”
“I’m glad I missed the skunk,” Ford said, shaking his head. “What is it exactly that the smoke is supposed to do?”
“It’s welcoming back all the creatures who were displaced by the flood. Letting them know it’s safe to come home.”
“Don’t they already know that?”
“Some animals are too frightened. Others are just too dumb to know where they belong. The juniper smoke is their guide.”
“What about the sage?”
“Cleansing. Gets rid of things that have no business being here.”
He hadn’t said animals. He’d said things.
Ford shivered. He’d heard about folks burning sage to get rid of evil spirits, and he couldn’t help it. He looked over his shoulder.
“I’ve never heard of juniper smoke being used for welcoming,” he said. “But then again, I’m allergic to it.”
He sneezed.
“Watch out for that snake,” Ruben said, calmly, as a black rat snake Ford hadn’t even noticed slithered lazily past. Ford jumped out of its way with a start.
“Shit,” Ford said. “He crawled right next to me. I’ve never seen a snake do that.”
“That makes seven,” Ruben said.
“Snakes?”
“No. Seven animals, including the snake, who have followed the smoke home.”
Doe, fawn, raccoon, skunk, and snake. That makes five.
“What were the other two animals?”
“You and Coco,” Ruben said placidly.
Ford laughed out loud. “Ruben, man, you are something else.”
Ruben shrugged. Added another branch.
“And I haven’t been displaced by the flood,” Ford said, with a grin. “My cabin stayed high and dry, just like yours.”
“You followed the smoke, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, but…” There was no point in arguing with Ruben. This was crazy talk, plain and simple.
“Welcome home,” Ruben said. Then he put another green limb on the fire.
Ford shook his head and got back on Coco. He could mark touch base with crazy Ruben off his list. He glanced down the trail in the direction of the creek. He needed to get to the ranch house and talk with Gerome. He’d done about all he could do by himself on this side of Wailing Woman.
Water levels often dropped rapidly after flash floods. The low-water crossing would still have water on it, but he and Coco could probably pick their way across.
He wasn’t much for water. Didn’t like to swim in it. Didn’t like to fish in it. And didn’t relish trying to wade through it on horseback.
The tugging started.
Ford rubbed his chest just above his diaphragm. Claire was safe and sound at her folks’ house. But he wouldn’t mind laying eyes on her. She’d had quite the ordeal, and it was only natural for him to want to check on her.
Tug, tug, tug.
He hadn’t intentionally done anything to urge Coco into a trot, but the horse had picked up on Ford’s emotions—the creature was damn near psychic—and they headed briskly in the direction of the creek.
Chapter Nine
Claire leaned back and put her feet on the coffee table. Her boots were on the porch, muddy and wet. She’d ridden for two hours with Beau and Bryce along the creek while Casey and Bobby Flores searched the riverbank. They all planned to go back out again after lunch.
The ranch house was serving as a hub for the search. Rancho Cañada Verde had more river land than any other property in the county, so it made sense. There were busy people coming and going, and under any other circumstances, Claire would enjoy having all the company. But there wasn’t much time for socializing, and a nerve-wracking anxiety hovered in the air.
Alison’s parents had come by while Claire was out. She was sorry she’d missed them, but also a little relieved. She wasn’t sure what to say to folks in such distress. The best thing she could do was continue searching for Alison.
The men had plates loaded down with sandwiches, potato salad, and homemade pickles. Claire wasn’t quite ready to eat yet. She never had much of an appetite when she was tired, and she was downright exhausted. Searching was physically tough—it was hot and humid and the mosquitos were already out—but mostly it was emotionally draining.
Her mom came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. She scanned the room, and when her eyes met Claire’s she smiled warmly. “Honey, could you follow me upstairs for a minute? Dad and I want to have a chat with you.”
“Of course, Mom.”
Maybe the insurance guy had called about her car. Or maybe there was news about Miss Daisy, and Claire could get back in her little trailer. Not that it was a huge inconvenience to stay with her parents. Her mom was a great cook, and due to space restrictions, Claire kept a lot of clothes here anyway.
She stood, stretched, and followed her mom up the stairs to her father’s study. The door was open, and her dad sat behind his huge desk. An aura of haggardness hovered over him, yet he was clean-shaven and wore his typical white starched shirt, the same Western style with a yoke that he always wore. When Claire thought of her father, two images came to mind: a straw Stetson and shiny mother-of-pearl snap buttons.
He stood and gave her a hug. His arms were strong and warm, and he smelled like coffee and sunshine, same as always.
“You’ve been out searching?” he asked with a gravelly voice.
Claire nodded.
“That’s my girl,” he said.
His voice had been hoarse for weeks, which he kept attributing to oak pollen. But the dunk he’d taken in the creek yesterday really seemed to have aggravated things. “Dad, your voice sounds awful. I think maybe it’s time to see Dr. Martin.”
He sat down and motioned for Claire to do the same. Her mom stood behind her and gently rested a hand on her shoulder.
“I saw Dr. Martin a couple of weeks ago.”
A sense of unease crawled up Claire’s spine, and by the time it arrived at the base of her head it was something closer to panic. Her dad was never sick, and he’d sooner consult the ranch’s visiting veterinarian than make a trip into town to see Dr. Martin. He thought going to the doctor was something ladies did, like having brunch or getting their hair done.
Claire racked her brain. When had his gravelly voice really started? And why hadn’t she known about the trip to the doctor? “What did he say?” she asked.
“He sent me to another doctor.”
“What kind of doctor?”
“Ear, nose, and throat.”
Claire relaxed a little. Ear, nose, and throat doctors treated sinus and allergy issues, didn’t they?
“Well, what did he say?”
Her dad shrugged. “Princess, don’t get upset, but I’ve got a little bit of cancer in my throat.”
The panic at the base of Claire’s skull bloomed into something just shy of hysteria. “Cancer?” she squeaked.
“Just a bit. The biopsy results—”
“Can you have just a bit of cancer? And when did you have a biopsy? Why didn’t I know about it?”
“You’ve been busy with your socializing and your job in town and whatnot.”
Gulp. He didn’t say it in a judgmental way. Just matter-of-factly. But it still hurt.
“And all the marketing for the ranch,” her mom added.
Her dad grinned. “That reminds me,” he said, digging in his drawer. “You got some mail from a leather company…”
Junk mail? He’d stopped the Bad News Delivery Train to give her some junk mail?
“Here you go,” he said, handing her an envelope from Bosco Leather.
She took it without looking at it.
“There wasn’t much point in bothering you with any of this until we had something to say,” her mom said. “We were hoping it would turn out to be nothing.”
“We’re a small family,” Claire said. “You need to keep me in the loop. What’s
the treatment plan?”
“Surgery is in a couple of months,” her mom said. “And then he’ll have some radiation.”
“Why can’t they do the surgery now?” Claire asked.
Her dad gave a slight shrug. “It’s calving season…”
Claire sighed.
“It’s not aggressive,” her mother said reassuringly.
“No chemo?” Claire asked.
“The doctor thinks it won’t be necessary,” her dad said. “But I won’t be up to snuff for a few weeks, or possibly longer, regardless.”
So that’s why he’d asked Ford to come back to the ranch. He needed someone responsible who knew the ropes. Someone who’d worked here before who wouldn’t need training and attention.
“Thank goodness for Ford,” her mom said. “Although I’m worried about what we’ll do after he’s gone. He could only give us six weeks.”
“Nobody needs to be worrying about a thing,” her dad said. “I’ve always taken care of this family, and I’ll continue to do so, one way or another.”
“And I’ll be around to help out more,” Claire said.
“Maggie needs you at Petal Pushers right now,” her mom said. “She’s going to have a baby.”
At the mention of Petal Pushers, Claire’s heart plunged down to her gut in a fabulous belly flop. There was no way she could bring up her plans now.
Disappointment must have shown on her face, because her father reached across the desk for her hand. “Princess, I realize the news is a blow. But the doctor said our bad news would be good news to quite a few of his patients. Let’s keep that in mind.” He gave her hand a squeeze and then leaned back in his chair.
Perspective. Her dad was right. He was almost always right, and she was just about to say so when Beau hollered from downstairs.
“Hey! Big Verde is on TV!”
* * *
“Oh God,” Bryce said. “Bubba is behind the reporter.”
Sure enough, Melanie Neubauer of KTBC was in front of the camera, and behind her stood Bubba Larson, photobombing the news with a huge grin and an upturned thumb.
Watching TV felt wrong, since most of the area still had no electricity. But her parents’ house and the bunkhouse shared an emergency generator. They had air-conditioning, lights, and annoying twenty-four-hour news coverage.
“They’re calling it the five-hundred-year flood,” the reporter said. “And as you can see, downtown Big Verde has sustained considerable damage.”
The camera scanned the debris-strewn street. Sally Larson, Bubba’s mother, pushed mud through the Corner Cafe’s door with a broom.
Casey stood in the center of the room, rubbing a hand across his face. “Is that harebrained reporter even going to mention that we have a missing girl? I faxed a picture out this morning. And speaking of Alison, we sure could use another guy on horseback to continue searching the riverbanks.”
“We’ve got Kit and Manuel checking on fence lines,” Beau said, “but as soon as they’re done—”
The screen door slammed, and little footsteps pounded their way in from the kitchen. Henry exploded into the room, followed by Maggie and Travis.
“Big Verde flooded!” Henry yelled.
Maggie ran straight to Claire. “We heard your car washed away. But then Bobby said you were okay, and I—”
Maggie’s eyes were wide—she was clearly trying not to blink out a tear—and her dark eyebrows had disappeared into her bangs. “It was just really awful for me,” she finally said.
“Imagine how awful it was for me,” Claire said.
Maggie swallowed loudly. “I think it was worse for me.”
Claire grabbed her up in a hug. “I’m fine.”
“Promise?” Maggie asked, her voice muffled by Claire’s chest.
“Promise. I wasn’t even in the car when it was swept away, and Ford came along and gave me a ride—”
Maggie’s head snapped up. “What kind of ride?”
She’d lost interest in Claire’s near-death experience in light of this new development.
“What’s this I hear about needing another guy on horseback?” Travis asked.
“We’re searching the riverbanks for any sign of Alison Mendoza,” Casey said. “We could use all the help we can get.”
“I brought Junior,” Travis said. “He’s in the horse trailer.”
“We need to search the dam,” Beau said.
“We got to where we could see it from the bluff,” Bryce added. “But we couldn’t get our horses down there.”
The scene on the television switched to an aerial view. “There’s Rancho Cañada Verde!” Beau said.
Claire stared at the TV. Everything but the house was nearly unrecognizable.
“The Rio Verde crested at three twenty a.m. on Saturday morning,” the reporter said.
“At least it’s going down,” Claire’s mom said. “We’re over the worst of it.”
The aerial footage showed the eastern part of the ranch and the crossing at Wailing Woman. The exact spot where Claire’s car had been washed away.
“Someone’s riding a horse through Wailing Woman,” Travis said.
Claire sat at attention, heart pounding. “Where?”
“Right there. See?” Maggie said.
Sure enough. Far below the helicopter was the muddy creek, and a man was halfway across. On horseback.
“It looks like we might have a man in trouble,” the reporter said dramatically.
Claire squinted at the screen.
“That’s Ford,” Beau said with a grin.
The water had receded, but it was still up to Coco’s flanks.
Claire gripped the sofa cushion. Ford and Coco were in the middle of the creek, the deepest part. The water wouldn’t get any higher…unless the low-water crossing had washed out.
“He’s fine,” her mom said softly. “See? They’re coming across slowly.”
“Coco is a mustang,” Bryce said. “They’re sure-footed and cautious.”
Claire’s dad cleared his throat from the doorway. In all the excitement, nobody had heard him come down the stairs. Her mom put a sandwich in his hands. “Eat.”
He took a bite and looked at his watch. “Ford should be here in about fifteen minutes, give or take.”
“What a spectacle, folks!” the reporter said. “Both man and horse have made it through the floodwaters safely.”
The camera zoomed in on Ford just as he glanced up at the helicopter.
He tipped his hat.
“What a show-off,” her dad said, turning to go back up the stairs. “Send him to see me when he gets here.”
Only Gerome Kowalski, a man who considered a full-sized smile an outlandish display of emotion, would call Ford Jarvis a show-off.
Chapter Ten
Claire followed Casey to the porch. “I can’t believe how bad things are in town. People lost their homes.”
“Most of those houses were cabin rentals or vacation homes. If this had happened on a holiday weekend…” Casey shuddered. “But as a whole, Big Verde was very lucky. And I hope that luck extends to the Mendoza family.”
Claire swallowed. “Don’t you think we’d have found her by now? If she was okay, I mean.”
Casey shrugged. “Hard to say. There are all kinds of crazy and unlikely survival stories, and I’m going to assume that’s what we’re dealing with until I’m forced to accept otherwise. That means Alison is depending on us.”
Claire looked down the lane that led to the creek. Ford should be riding up any minute. He was going to insist on joining the search for Alison, and given his family’s history, it would be agonizing for him.
She and Casey were both quiet for a moment, lost in their thoughts. And then Casey said, “You haven’t already taken up with Ford Jarvis, have you?”
Claire crossed her arms. “You are not about to stand here lecturing me about cowboys, Casey Long. I am not a child—”
“Just one specific cowboy,” Casey said. “And I�
��m well aware that you are not a child.”
His eyes briefly flitted up and down her body. “If you were a child, this conversation wouldn’t be necessary.”
“It’s not necessary now, but to answer your question, no, I have not taken up with Ford.”
“I’m surprised your dad asked Ford to come back, considering.”
“Considering what?”
“Considering your history with him.”
Casey was really pissing her off. “First of all, I love my dad, but he doesn’t dictate who I date.”
“He might not dictate to you, but believe me, every ranch hand and cowboy on these twelve thousand acres and all surrounding acres and basically all of Texas knows they can’t date Gerome Kowalski’s daughter.”
“Well,” Claire sputtered, “even if that were true—”
“Oh, it’s true.”
“Dad doesn’t know that Ford and I ever—”
“Messed around? A lot? All over the place?”
Claire held her finger to her lips. “Shh.”
“For someone who doesn’t care what her daddy thinks, you sure do seem to care what your daddy thinks. Also, I’m pretty sure nothing gets by him. Not a goddam thing. Believe me, he knows, or thinks he knows. So, all I’m saying is he must be pretty hard up for a foreman.”
“Don’t you have official business to attend to somewhere? We’re having a natural disaster.”
“Don’t get attached again, Claire. Ford Jarvis is not going to settle his spurs here, or anywhere. I know his type. Met a lot of men like him on the rodeo circuit.”
Claire leaned against the porch railing. “I’m not an idiot.”
Casey raised an eyebrow as if he were looking at someone who’d recently driven her Mini Cooper into a low-water crossing during a flash flood.
So maybe she was a little bit of an idiot. But not where Ford was concerned. He was determined to wander the Texas countryside like some sort of tragic, romantic figure from a spaghetti Western. Why would she want to get involved again with a man like that?
Casey looked down the lane. “Speak of the devil.”
Claire squinted into the glare of the noonday sun at the familiar silhouette of Ford and Coco. Her feet suddenly had a mind of their own and started down the steps. She managed to stop at the bottom, but her heart beat frantically against her rib cage, as if it were an object determined to remain in motion.
