by Dana Mentink
Don’t shoot. Chad and Blaze on bridge.
There was no reply from Liam. Unsure what to do, she strained to see across the darkening chasm. Her eyes adjusted in time to spot Blaze outlined in a patch of moonlight as he darted a few steps deeper onto the bridge. Chad was fifteen feet behind him.
“Don’t run,” Chad yelled. “Bridge isn’t safe.”
But Blaze seemed to have made up his mind. He jogged along the bridge, hopping over the missing slats. She got out of the truck and stepped through the gate.
“No, Blaze!” she shouted. He didn’t slow.
Chad ducked down and sprinted after him.
Dory’s heart shot to her throat. Their combined weight would be too much. Or the shooter would have another chance for a kill shot. Her knees trembled with the vibrations of the two running men. She had no idea how to help.
Let him go, Chad, she willed. She knew it was futile. Blaze had hinted at the knowledge that would restore Rocky’s reputation. It wasn’t an accident. No, Chad would not stop until he’d forced Blaze to reveal everything he knew. Or until one of them was killed in the attempt.
Chad was fast. He’d been an all-state sprinter until his mother’s affair with Chad’s coach. Dory remembered the day he’d told her about that. It was the only time she’d witnessed him cry. The day they’d ended things, there had been no tears on his part. Just a cold, hollow fury that she still recalled in vivid detail.
“Stop!” Chad shouted again. He aimed a flying tackle at Blaze. Both men went down in a whirl of limbs that shook the bridge.
Dory clutched the railing to keep from falling.
Blaze sprang to his feet a second before Chad, who lunged once again.
Blaze dodged, twisting just enough to avoid Chad’s grasp.
Breath frozen in horror, Dory saw Chad hit the railing full-force. An ominous crack cut the air.
Had it been another shot?
A second later, she realized it wasn’t a gunshot but the sound of the old wood giving way.
“No,” she gasped.
She bolted forward as Chad fell backward through the ruined wood.
* * *
Chad felt the railing disintegrating. An odd sense of weightlessness enveloped him, and then he was airborne, his senses on overload. Bits of wood rained down around him. He heard Dory scream. Cold air tore off his cowboy hat and whirled it away. His brain fired off a code red warning. You’re gonna wind up in the river! At the last minute, he managed to hook an arm over a fractured beam that stuck out over the chasm. Pain shot through him as the jagged material cut into his shoulder, but he clung there, grappling until he got both arms locked around the lifesaving slab of wood. He tried to throw a leg up over the support, but he could not angle his body sufficiently. It took all his strength to hold on.
“Chad!” Dory’s voice barely carried over the cacophony.
Panic drilled him as the top of her head appeared over the slats. “Get off the bridge!” he shouted. “Go back!”
Still she remained there, saying something maybe. Hadn’t she heard him? “Go back!” he shouted again as loud as he could manage. He breathed a prayer of thanks when she disappeared in the direction of the truck. She’d shelter there, call the police, fill Liam in. She’d live to go back to Ivy.
The knowledge bolstered him. One problem taken care of. Next order of the day was how to survive until Liam arrived. Looking around, he saw nothing else to hold on to. Cramps seized his biceps as the wind seemed to be trying its best to pry him loose. His only chance was to try to shimmy back along the broken beam and hoist himself onto the bridge again. Judging from the way the beam shook under his grasp, it would be a one-in-a-million chance of success. At least Dory wasn’t in danger of falling, too. Arms strained to breaking, he started to wriggle on the beam until another hideous crack froze him in place.
The wood shivered under his grip. Desperately, he looked for another handhold, something to support him before his perch gave way. Splinters cut into his hands and he knew he had only moments before he was going down into that water-filled gorge.
All right, he told himself through gritted teeth. This better be the best dive of your life. His father had never understood Chad’s love of the high dive at the high school swimming pool.
At least have the good sense to go feetfirst, would you? he’d call up the ladder.
His mother used to disagree. The water’s plenty deep. Just dive, kiddo. Don’t think about it too much.
Just dive. It was the way she’d lived her life with them, diving into experiences, friendships...an affair. She plunged into everything and he’d always admired her spirit. He’d been proud of it, truth be told, until he’d finally understood the cost. Diving was a quick thrill and then what? On to the next experience, whatever would feed her, heedless of the young teen boy she’d left standing by the pool, wrecked and alone. And the husband who was left to pick up the pieces?
His father had found comfort in a bottle, and comfort had become a crutch. Chad had watched his father struggling to stay sober, sneaking drinks when he thought Chad was not aware. But it was impossible not to notice when sometimes Chad had to call and cancel charter jobs at the last minute because he could not rouse his father from yet another drunken sleep.
Nothing he could ever do would take the sting from his mother’s betrayal, but with his father clinging to sobriety after his prison time, maybe Chad could find the truth. Would it be enough to set him free of the guilt that had tormented him for five years? Mary Robertson’s drowning and Blaze’s, or so they’d believed? He gripped the rough wood, biting back a groan of pain. Hard as he fought, his overtaxed muscles blared a warning.
Something slapped at his shoulder. A rope dangled in his line of sight.
Dory peered down at him again. “Tie it around you.”
“No,” he shouted up at her. “I’m too heavy. I’ll pull us both in.”
“I’ve got it fastened around the axle of your truck.”
“Dory—”
“Do it right now, Chad Dooley Jaggert!”
Her shriek and the use of his full name punched through his pain. He could not abide his middle name, chosen for some folk guitar singer his mother admired, and Dory knew it. It galvanized him into action.
With one hand, he managed to grab the rope. His numb fingers struggled against the nylon.
“Hurry!” Dory’s voice pitched high with panic.
I’m not exactly taking my time. He had to get the knot fastened somehow. “I’ve almost done it. Get back to the truck,” he called to her.
Once he got the rope fastened, she could haul him up quickly using the truck. Maybe they could cut Blaze off with Liam’s help. He fought against the fatigue, peeking a look. Dory was still there. She straightened, as if she’d heard something. Liam? Blaze? The shooter? His pulse raced.
He saw her knuckles whiten on the railing.
“What is it?” he hollered over the wind.
And then he felt it, too, the undulation of the bridge, the wood uncoiling like some giant snake. Too late.
“Run, Dory!”
He did not know if she’d heard him or not.
With a spine-shivering moan, the bridge collapsed. The rope slithered from his hands.
As he pinwheeled into the darkness, he watched in helpless horror as Dory was thrown into the void alongside him.
TEN
The bridge dropped away from under her feet. Spinning, twisting, limbs flailing, Dory catapulted into the chasm. There was no time to do anything but cradle her head seconds before she plunged feetfirst into the river and the ice-cold water stripped her of breath. The force of impact hit her like a sledgehammer. She could not decipher up from down. Her feet scraped against something. The bottom? And then she was propelled back to the surface only to be tumbled helplessly by the rushing current.
&nbs
p; Chad. Where is he? Fighting the tumult, she managed to keep her chin high enough to suck in a breath before she was thrown under again. Her elbow banged against a rock. Another surge of roiling water broke over her. There was no way she was going to survive the violence much longer. She kicked with all her might, heading for a dark shadow poking up from the water. It wasn’t much, a single wedge in the middle of the onslaught, but it was the only fixed point anywhere close. Come on, come on. She clawed her way along, but the force of the water hurtled her too far. Again she was forced under. She fought her way to the surface.
“Here.”
Had she actually heard a voice? Chad? Her heart leaped.
Jerking a look to the side, she caught the barest glimpse of him holding on to a pinnacle of rock that jutted from the canyon into the raging water. Hope churned inside her. The flow would carry her right by him if only she could reach out and grab for his extended hand. If she missed, she’d be swept down the gorge and drowned or smashed to death. She tried to slow herself by snagging the rocks, but her fingers skimmed over the thick layers of slippery moss.
The water sped her along. Closer and closer she came to Chad. He was silhouetted against the moonlight, clothes plastered to his body, every muscle straining to reach her.
“Come on,” she commanded herself. Coaxing her clawed fingers to extend, she reached out.
Chad grabbed her wrist and pulled her to him, defying the pummeling water. Yes! They were going to make it. A roaring monster of water yanked Chad from the rocks and they were both sucked along toward the narrowing walls. Chad somehow looped an arm around her waist.
Let go! she wanted to scream to him. He was a much stronger swimmer than she was. You can make it to shore, get help.
But he kept that iron arm fastened around her middle. There was no escape now, she knew. No rescue lay in store for them. Oh, Chad, she thought. Why did I come back? What have I done to us both? Cold pushed the thought from her mind and the breath from her body. Moment by moment, she could feel her chance to live being sucked away by the raging tumult.
Over the roaring water, she heard a strange sound.
A bark? No, surely not. A hallucination. The deluge stripped away her last bit of strength and she could no longer hold on. Chad gripped her more tightly, but she knew his strength was waning, too. Bitter cold pushed deeper into her bloodstream.
Her daughter’s impish smile danced in her mind. She considered how both Ivy’s parents might well be moments away from dying together without Ivy ever so much as seeing her father. In that moment, she knew she’d made the wrong choice, keeping Ivy from Chad. He didn’t love Dory, true. Maybe she hadn’t forgiven him for cutting her out of his life, though she’d prayed long and hard about it. But her decision had stripped him of the chance to love his daughter. He might have been a good father or a bad one, but God had given him the title and she’d taken it away. Worse, she’d prevented Ivy from having a daddy in her world. Regret felt as bitter as the cold.
I’m sorry, Chad.
A light pierced the darkness. Chad began to struggle with fresh energy, pulling them toward the shore. Again she heard a dog bark. Rescue? Was it possible? She tried to kick, to help, but all her strength had been gobbled up by the frigid water.
“God help us,” she prayed as she gave herself up to the cold.
* * *
Chad’s brain was chilled into sluggishness, but the sight of that tiny beacon waving him in like runway lights revived him. Clutching Dory with one hand, he cleaved at the water with the other. His efforts didn’t amount to much, but the motion veered them slightly toward the light. Dory was trying to help. Her kicks were feeble. They didn’t have much longer before they both went hypothermic.
When he feared he could not continue, rocks ground at his shins. They were in shallower water. Hope fired his muscles. Straining hard, he kept at it, and suddenly Liam was there, up to his hips, tied by a rope to a tree on the bank. Chad tried to grab for him and failed. The water was sweeping them past the point of rescue. He fought to plant his feet against the mighty pull. He managed to hold for a few seconds.
It was enough. A bark sounded near his ear, and in minutes, Jingles and Meatball were in the water, too, splashing and paddling around them. He looped an arm around Jingles’s neck at the same moment Liam grabbed him by the shoulder. Meatball paddled furiously, poking his face into Dory’s until she lifted a shaking arm.
The little dog was not strong enough with only three legs to anchor Dory against the water, but he snatched up her sleeve in his teeth and tugged for all he was worth.
Pull, Meatball.
For a while, it seemed futile. The effort of Liam and the two dogs held them in place, but they were not moving closer to shore. Dory had gone limp. The instant Chad thought he could struggle no longer, he found himself and Dory hauled onto the mossy rocks by a panting Liam. He heaved in a massive lungful of air before he rolled onto his side and looked at Dory.
Her eyes were closed but she was breathing as Meatball licked the water from her cheeks.
“Dory,” Chad breathed. “Look at me.”
She didn’t answer. His fingers found her face. Her skin was dead cold to his touch. He cupped her cheek. “Come back to me, Dory.”
And that got a hint, the barest suggestion, of a smile. His head swam with relief. He chafed his palm up and down her arm, trying to catch his own breath and stir warmth back into her.
“These dogs never listen,” Liam said, kneeling next to Dory and throwing his jacket over her. “I told ’em to stay put and what do they do? Dive right in.”
Chad gulped when he saw her mouth move.
“Good dogs,” she whispered.
He struggled to sit up. A jumble of feelings jetted through him just then. If Dory had not made it... The thought cut through every other emotion with a swift, hot slash. He swallowed hard against a surge of new tenderness toward her, low and insistent. No, he thought. It couldn’t be a new feeling, just an echo of something long since gone. He fought the shivers and got to his knees.
Liam completed his quick exam. “I don’t see obvious broken bones or bleeding.”
With Liam and Chad’s help, she sat up and tried to speak. “H-how...?”
Liam cocked his head. He hadn’t heard her quiet murmur.
Chad squeezed her hand between his. “I think she wants to know how you managed to save us.”
“Ah. That was due to my arsenal of ferocious skills,” Liam said with a characteristic cocky grin. Chad could see that he was hiding concern underneath his bravado. “It will take too long to get an ambulance down here with the bridge out. I’ll carry Dory to my truck and come back for you.”
“I can make it,” Chad said, wondering if his body would make a liar out of him. “What about the shooter?”
Again Liam hadn’t heard him, so he said it louder over the sound of the thundering water.
“Couldn’t get to the shooter. Laid down some fire to discourage him or her from killing you three. Saw a vehicle tearing off out of the canyon just before the bridge went down.” He shook his head. “Before you ask, Blaze is gone. Dunno if he was injured or not. We will get after him at first light. I’ll fill Danny in from the truck. Right now, we gotta move.”
Chad made it to his feet with a hand from Liam. Liam gripped his palm for a moment, his expression earnest and fierce. “As much as I appreciate a good adrenaline rush, you scared me, little brother. How about we don’t do that again, huh?”
Chad nodded. “Yes, sir. And thank you.”
Liam lifted Dory easily, which set Meatball to whining, dancing on his three legs. Jingles shook off a spray of water droplets and followed after Liam.
Chad shuddered with the cold. He willed his knees not to buckle. Meatball looked up at him, sopping wet and trembling, too. He held out his arms and the dog leaped straight up into them, licking the wate
r from his neck and snuggling against Chad’s chest.
“We gonna make it, Meatball?” he murmured to the dog’s wet ears. The skinny pup had risked drowning himself trying to get Dory out of the water. Unbuttoning his shirt, he cradled Meatball next to his goose-pimpled skin and made him a silent promise. However things turned out, Meatball would always have a home with Chad until the end of his days.
The steep trek to the truck felt endless. He hoped Liam did not notice his repeated stumbling. It was a cramped ride with Dory crammed into the seat between Liam and Chad, the two dogs sharing the passenger foot space. For all Liam’s tough-guy attitude, he didn’t want the wet dogs freezing in the truck bed. With the heater blasting, Chad noticed Dory’s shivering had slowed a bit, but his worry would not be eased until she’d been given a complete exam.
Liam got them both checked in at the hospital and left to take the dogs home and alert Aunt Ginny. Dory was spirited away to some exam room while Chad was parked in another. The hospital staff ran tests, poked, prodded and checked his vitals. They would not update him on Dory’s condition other than to say, “She’s stable.” Whatever that meant.
Danny Patron arrived to take his statement. His frown spoke volumes. “Seems like I’ve had similar visits with Liam and Mitch in the not-too-distant past. Tell me, is it a prerequisite that all Roughwater Ranch brothers are stubborn fools? Going off on harebrained missions without informing the police?”
“No, sir.”
Danny shook his head. “That all you got to say?”
“No, sir.”
Danny rolled his eyes. “What, then? Spit it out.”
“Did you find Blaze?”
“No.”
Chad weighed his choices about how much to divulge. “He says the boat sinking was not an accident. That his aunt’s to blame.”
Danny raised an eyebrow. He was dressed in jeans and a paint-splattered sweatshirt with a cartoon tiger on the front. Chad felt a stab of guilt that he’d been dragged in while off duty. “I’m looking into that. Already talked to Angela Robertson once. Gotta tell you, though, she’s not hurting for money. Their folks had plenty and Angela and Mary were both doing just fine. We’ve done a cursory investigation, and Angela’s not in debt. Far from it, as a matter of fact.”
