“You’re pushing yourself, Patrick. You’re not ready to be up and riding.”
Patrick looked up from buckling his gun belt. His face was drawn tight, his eyebrows slanted in a frown. “Who made you my keeper? If I want to ride into the next county, that’s my privilege, lady.”
He said lady as if it were an expletive. Hostility emanated from him in brutal waves, and his anger was a sharp sword lancing her soul. Why? She had nursed him these last few days. The first day she’d fed him, shaved him, and tried to keep him company. To speed his recovery, she’d slowed the drive down. In six weeks the loan was due on her property, yet for her, that had come second to Patrick. Everything had come second to Patrick. Why was he acting this way now?
They were at a standoff. Golden brown eyes dared her to make the first move. Her understanding had reached its limit. If he were well enough to ride, then he was well enough to take her wrath.
Choosing her words carefully and deliberately, she met his flashing gold eyes. “You can ride to hell for all I care.”
She turned and marched off, leaving unseen pieces of her heart behind.
Patrick watched her stalk away, her hips swinging in the tight pants that clung to her curves. He swore. The last three days had been nothing but torment. Everywhere he turned, the scent of Sabrina touched him. The inside of the chuck wagon no longer smelled of leather and supplies. Lavender floated in the air like a cool spring breeze. Even the pallet where he slept smelled of lavender and Sabrina.
The first night he’d been too hurt to notice the teasing aroma, but since then, between the presence of Sabrina hovering over him, and the scent she left behind. He’d been in agony.
Torn between his desire for her and the conversation he’d overheard between Sabrina and Buckets, he was in misery. Oh, he was sure he loved her, but she’d hurt him badly before. Should he trust her, believe in the things she’d said to Buckets, or would that only give her the chance to hurt him again?
He would never forget catching Matt and Trey stealing cattle, and the horribly public trial. He’d fought Matt with the town watching; and then, at one of the lowest moments of his life, Sabrina had broken off their engagement.
His life had changed completely that summer. He’d entered the darkest period of his life, leaving Sherwood, quitting his post as a ranger. At first, he had rambled from town to town, looking for a place to settle, but in each town he had found something that reminded him of Sherwood—and Sabrina.
Finally, low on money, he’d become a bounty hunter. He’d made a small fortune catching wanted criminals. Bounty hunters had a bad reputation, a well-deserved reputation for most of them. Yet he’d only brought in one man dead. The others had been persuaded, none too gently with the accurate use of his six-shooter.
The news of his parents’ murder had brought him back home to Sherwood. Back to the town that had wrongfully acquitted two men of stealing and branded him a fool. Then Sabrina had reappeared and turned his world upside down. Was he willing to go through that kind of pain again?
The last two days he’d spent lying on that pallet, watching her, thinking of her, wanting her. Another day spent inside that bloody wagon, and he’d have her under him and be tasting her sweet body, showing her the joys of passion between a man and a woman. And then he would definitely be lost.
But he couldn’t. This was his friend Jed’s daughter, and there was Matt. The situation with Matt stood between them like a heavy steel door. Sabrina held the key. Only she could unlock that door, freeing them from the pain of the past. Until that time he would not be free to return her love. If he could convince his heart and body to follow his head, then this trip would be easier. He couldn’t spend the rest of his life with a woman who put her brother before him. He needed her loyalty if he were to give her his heart.
Patrick raked his hair back from his face, touching the bandage with his hand. Yes, he was still weak and prone to dizzy spells. An ailing man on the trail was an easy victim, and he didn’t like being weak. He’d been close to finding out who was following them, and if Sabrina had not been bathing, he would have caught them.
He couldn’t blame Sabrina for the shooting. It was his own damn fault. Knowing it was dangerous, he’d disregarded the threat and kissed her. His passion had almost gotten him killed when he should have hauled her sweet butt out of the water and up to camp. She’d been such a temptation he’d been lured away from his purpose. No more! A man could easily get killed when he was busy thinking with something other than his brain.
Chapter 10
Patrick realized the animals were as edgy as he’d felt these past few days. The weather had turned hot and sweltering, making both men and animals suffer. The longhorns bawled, their cry deep and lonely in the muggy air.
Heat shimmered in waves from the ground as the hot sun beat down unmercifully on the land. Thunderheads towered in the northwestern sky, building with the afternoon heat, promising a cooling shower.
A storm would be amicable compared to the atmosphere in camp the last few days. Since the shooting, Sabrina had done nothing but try his patience. Then again, Patrick had felt testy and edgy since the bullet had scraped his forehead. He was filled with concern that it could have been Sabrina instead of him, fearful that it would happen again, and confusion over the conversation he’d overheard between Buckets and Sabrina. Little wonder his insides were clenched tighter than a virgin on her wedding night.
Thunder boomed in the distance, bringing Patrick back to the present. The storm clouds loomed ever closer, growing darker by the minute. The longhorns bawled nervously at the sound. Patrick watched the clouds roll toward them. Lightning streaked to the ground, flashing its ominous warning.
From the looks of the sky, it was going to be a long, rough afternoon. If the storm reached them, and it looked more like when than if, it would take a hell of a lot of work to keep the cattle from stampeding. Anxiety mixed with fear pumped through his body. He had to prepare everyone for the worst.
He rode to each person and gave them a special task to perform in case of a stampede. The fastest horses were put up front to catch the herd and turn them.
Thunder boomed ever closer. The sky turned darker by the minute. The hot wind that had blown relentlessly for the last week ceased suddenly and the air seemed to hang, suspended. Birds disappeared, and an eerie stillness crept upon the prairie, with only the sound of the thunder shattering the stillness.
Patrick found Buckets securing the covering of the wagon with extra ties. Firewood was stacked beside the wagon, ready to load. Any wood left on the trail would be too wet to be used as firewood tonight.
“Anything I can do to help you, Buckets?” Patrick asked.
“Yeah, tell that storm to head in the other direction. I don’t like the looks of it.” Buckets bent to load the wood.
“Wish I could,” Patrick replied, worried himself. “If the cattle stampede, get out of their way.”
Buckets’ eyes met and held Patrick’s gaze. “Don’t worry none about that. As soon as I’m loaded, I’m looking for a low spot to hide out in. Between the lightning and the way those clouds look, I figure we’re in for a real hard blow.”
Patrick looked at the dark boiling mass of clouds headed directly for them. “I think you’re right. As soon as I find Sabrina, I’m sending her to stay with you.”
“Yeah. She don’t need to be around the cattle.” Buckets looked at the sky. “Damn storm anyway. You be careful. I’ve already patched you up once this trip.”
“Watch yourself, Buckets.”
Patrick rode away, his worry increasing with each minute. On the flat prairie, there was no place to hide from an approaching storm. Low ravines could quickly become rushing rivers, high hilltops were targets for lightning, and trees were lightning rods.
The thunder boomed louder; the ground shook from its force. The longhorns bellowed in increasing fright. The late afternoon sun had disappeared from the sky, leaving the land a supernatural green. Black
clouds enveloped the land, boiling above like a giant stew pot.
The men were in place; the cattle had been turned into a tight ball. They were as ready as he could possibly prepare them. He prayed the storm would be brief, with little rain and no hail. Without shelter for either animals or man, hail had been known to kill and maim.
There was only one thing left to do, find Sabrina. His eyes frantically searched the area, looking for her blonde braid. Earlier, she had been riding flank position, but she was no longer there. The men circled the cattle, trying to quiet them, to ease their fears while easing their own.
Patrick rode around the herd, searching for but not finding her. Fear settled in the pit of his stomach. Where was she?
“Dan, have you seen Sabrina?” Patrick questioned the man.
“Curly was riding drag with her.” Dan pulled his rain slicker closer around his body.
Patrick spurred his horse to where Curly was busy trying to keep the cattle bunched together. “Have you seen Sabrina?”
“Yeah, earlier. Her horse started limping and she went to find Tom.”
“Thanks.” Patrick pulled his horse and rode hard back to where Tom was trying to calm the nervous horses. The sky had gone from green to black, and afternoon appeared more like dusk. The only illumination was the lightning that now streaked every few minutes. The wind made its reappearance with a slam. Cool gusts smelling of rain sent dirt, leaves, and branches rolling along the ground.
He rode up to Tom, concern filling his voice. “Have you seen Sabrina?”
“No,” he yelled into the ever-increasing wind.
“Hold on tight to them horses.”
“I’ll try.” Tom spoke to the horses, trying to calm them.
Somewhere between the cattle and Tom, he should have seen Sabrina. Where was she? Anxious, Patrick started to retrace his steps. When he was almost back to the cattle, it dawned on him. Riding as fast as he could, he headed south of the drive. Curly hadn’t said when she’d left to go find Tom. She could be a half mile to a mile behind the drive.
Large, heavy raindrops started to splat the ground. Thunder boomed its loud warning. Patrick raced away from the drive, leaving behind the cattle and the men in his search for Sabrina.
He knew she was frightened by storms and now she was alone on the prairie, about to face nature’s fury alone.
Rain suddenly pounded the ground around him, pouring its wrath out on the dry earth. Small hail, the size of marbles, pelted Patrick and bounced off the ground. His horse whinnied nervously, crying out its alarm. “Shh, boy. We’ve got to ride this out.”
Water ran off Patrick’s hat, blurring his vision. Through the haze of black sky and rain, he saw the obscured image of Sabrina. She stood in the mud, pulling on her horse’s reins, trying to calm her. The mustang was frightened. Her front two legs reared up, pawing the air.
Fear clutched Patrick’s heart as he watched the hooves come dangerously close to Sabrina’s head. Rain and wind pummeled him. Blood surged through him during the endless time it took to reach Sabrina.
The mustang brought its hooves down, striking the ground. The whinnied cry of Patrick’s horse caught Sabrina’s attention, and she turned at the sound. Rain streamed from her like a waterfall.
Patrick leaped from his horse, dropping the reins. “What happened?”
“I think she has a stone bruise on her right hoof,” Sabrina shouted above the roar of the wind and rain. Her blue eyes were wide with fright.
He lifted the hoof up and felt around. The horse made a nervous sound as his hand probed her hoof. Shaking her head, her eyes wild with fright, the horse leaned down and tried to nip Patrick with her teeth.
Patrick gripped the halter to speak close to the horse’s ear. In a soothing voice he said, “Easy, girl.”
He took the reins and walked the mustang a short distance; the rain pounded man and animal. The mustang limped, favoring her right hoof. “You’re right. She’s hurt.”
The rain lashed them with its fury, the storm growing stronger. Gusts of wind blew, pushing and pulling at them. A strange roaring noise suddenly filled the air and drew their attention away from the horse up to the sky. The twisting clouds were coming together, forming a funnel. The long, spiral column dipped toward the ground, taunting the earth with destruction.
They stood directly in its path.
“Dear God,” Patrick whispered, his words lost in the thundering roar of the storm.
A surge of fear spurred him to action. He slapped the wounded animal on the rump, sending her limping across the prairie.
His horse stood her ground, but cried out in fright. Patrick reached for the reins. Before Sabrina could react, he lifted her up and put her in the saddle. He climbed up behind her, arms tight around her wet body.
He put the spurs to his horse, sending them bounding away from the twisting, churning cloud. There was no time to worry about the others; he could only focus on the realization that, at any moment, they were close to being sucked up into the giant twister.
Patrick turned and saw the tornado churning up the prairie, skipping and dancing eerily. His horse needed no urging or prodding; it sensed the danger behind them. It raced in a southwesterly direction, away from the storm, away from the drive.
Lightning flashed, striking a tree to their left. The horse whinnied in fright, but never stopped, just kept running. The rain beat unmercifully on their heads and backs; buckshot pieces of hail bruised them with its blows. The horse splashed through a stream they had crossed earlier that morning. The churning water had risen a couple of feet since then and would rise more as the swollen clouds dumped their load.
Patrick looked behind them again and watched the twister churn its path to the east, away from them. Elation flowed through his veins like good whiskey.
Ahead of them, a line shack appeared on the distant horizon. Urging his horse onward, Patrick headed to the small cabin. It wasn’t the most solid of shelters, but it looked more hospitable than the flat prairie.
They skidded to a halt before the rundown shack. Patrick helped Sabrina dismount. Wind and weather had eaten away at the shanty, but it was a reasonably dry, safe spot.
Patrick opened the door and checked to make sure that there were no other inhabitants. A small fireplace dominated the back wall and was surrounded by empty shelves. Though dusty, the line shack was a safe haven. Patrick pushed Sabrina inside and then went back out into the rain to attend his horse.
Throughout the wild ride across the prairie, neither of them had spoken. Sabrina had hung onto the saddle horn with both hands, never glancing back, until they’d stopped.
Though rain still came down in a steady stream, the sky had lightened to a silvery shade of dusk. The funnel cloud had disappeared over the horizon, leaving a path of twisted grass and uprooted sagebrush. Patrick cared for his horse, walking her, cooling her down. Anxiously, he glanced over at Sabrina.
She stood inside the doorway, as still as a statue. Blue eyes wide as saucers filled her ashen face. Terrified, she stared off in the distance in the direction in which the storm had disappeared. Her clothes were completely drenched; her hair hung limp around her face. She shivered uncontrollably either from fear or cold; he didn’t know which.
Patrick walked up behind her. His heart ached at the fear that reflected in every line of her body. His arms longed to reach out and comfort her, yet he was afraid. Afraid that once he touched her he wouldn’t be able to stop.
“Are you okay?”
“I wonder if the others are all right.” Her voice sounded strangely quiet and weak.
“What about you, Sabrina?”
“Buckets, and the cattle.” Her lips quivered.
Unable to resist any longer, he put his arms around her and pulled her back against his chest. They stood looking out at the prairie. Her shivering increased.
“I was so scared, Patrick.” Her voice ended in a sob.
“I know, honey. I was, too.” Patrick squeezed her, holding
her tight, trying to infuse his heat and strength into her body.
“I didn’t think we were going to make it”
“Me, either.” His lips brushed her cheek.
“All I can see is that big cloud coming right toward us.”
“I know, but we made it. We’re safe.” His hands ran up and down her arms, trying to warm her chilled body.
“What if you hadn’t shown up, Patrick? I would have been out there all alone.”
“I know, honey. I was looking for you.”
“I didn’t mean to get left behind. It just happened. And I was so scared.”
“It’s over, Sabrina. You’re safe.”
Sabrina turned in his arms and buried her face in his chest. “I prayed that you’d come after me, that you’d find me.”
“I was trying, sweetheart.”
“Oh, Patrick. I’m tired of being on the trail. I want to sleep in a real bed. I want a roof over my head. I want to eat real food. I’m tired of being scared. I want to go home.”
Sabrina’s voice broke, and no longer could she hold back the sobs. The storm had completely unnerved her, and she cried out her fears into Patrick’s chest. He stood there and held her and let her cry, rubbing her back, whispering soothing words.
After two long months of being on the trail, the strain had finally gotten to Sabrina and broken her. She was tired and drained, and more than anything, he wanted to infuse her with his warmth and courage. Patrick felt his heart reach out to envelop her. He wanted to encircle her and protect her from the world until she was once again strong enough to conquer any battle that came her way.
Finally, like the storm outside, the tempest inside also eased in fury, leaving a hiccuping Sabrina. Patrick patiently held her. Sometimes he forgot how small she was, how fragile, that she was, after all, a woman. Until times, like now, reminded him, and he berated himself for expecting too much from her. She was a woman. One that had been through too much in the last few months.
With her head still snuggled against his chest, he heard her murmur, “Please don’t say ‘I told you so.’”
Second Chance Cowboy Page 13
