How To Catch A Cowboy: A Small Town Montana Romance

by Joanna Bell

  Ah, there was something. A little gulch or creek with a few trees growing beside it – which meant shade and, hopefully, water – was visible just down the other side of the hill the path cut along the top of. I made my way down to it, thinking even if I wasn't prepared to drink the water at least I could splash it on my face.

  When I got to the creek, though, it was as dry as a bone, the ground cracked and scattered with twigs. The trees, however, did offer some shade and I gratefully sat down and leaned against the trunk of the largest one. I was thirsty, but not ragingly so. I just needed to cool off for a few minutes and then head back to the car. Then call Jack McMurtry. No problem.

  I awoke after inadvertently falling asleep to the feeling of big, fat raindrops plopping purposefully onto my face, and the sound of thunder rumbling overhead.

  "Damnit!" I screeched, jumping up and then sitting right back down again as an ear-splittingly loud clap of thunder broke directly overhead. Other than the few little trees beside the creek bed, the foothills were bare, and I remembered my lessons from elementary school – never go outside in a thunderstorm. Especially into an empty field. I pushed myself back against the trunk of the tree as the rain, finished with the tentative plopping stage, came on suddenly and intensely. Within seconds I was soaked and the tree's leaves were no match for a downpour of that scale. Great. At least the storm brought some relief from the heat.

  I stayed where I was at the edge of the creek bed, watching as the rain turned the cracked, dry earth into mud and the storm showed no signs of dissipating. Was I going to lose a whole day to hiding out in a deserted creek bed? It was beginning to look like I was.

  After what felt like an unreasonably long time, the rain died down a little and the thunder and lightning seemed to have mostly passed. I needed to cross the creek bed to get back to the path, but it was basically a gigantic mud-bath by then. I took my shoes and socks off and rolled my pants up almost to my knees and took a first, tentative step.

  Yuck. My foot sank down to the ankle and the muck oozed up between my toes, but I didn't step back – I had to cross the damn thing to get back to the car. I took another step and wobbled, flailing my arms around desperately to avoid taking a header into the mud and trying to think of anything other than what kind of creatures could be lurking near my bare toes. That was when I thought I heard someone shouting. I ignored it at first, thinking it must be the wind, but it got louder. For a second, I took my eyes off the muddy ground and looked up.

  There was a man on horseback on the crest of one of the hills I'd hiked over to get myself into my ridiculous predicament – was it him yelling? It had to be, there was no one else around. He was too far away and the wind and rain were still too heavy to make out what he was saying, but he kept it up. I narrowed my eyes a little, trying to get a better look. Was that Jack McMurtry? What the hell? Had he followed me?

  I squinted harder, but from that distance I just couldn't tell. It did look like him. Something about the straight-backed posture and broad shoulders. Whoever it was, he was still yelling. Soon, he was waving his arms around, gesturing like he wanted me to look at something to my left. I glanced left as I took another step in the muck. Nothing to see but more mud, more hills. I stopped for a moment, wondering what I should do if it was Jack, if he had followed me. Nothing about him had seemed dangerous, and I like to think I have a pretty good feel for who's just angry about having to pay taxes and who might be an actual threat, but still. If it was him it was very weird that he would be in the same location as me, with no one else around, and clearly worked up about something.

  As I stood still, wondering what was going on and what I should do, the man on horseback began to shout even louder, and his gestures became desperate. I looked again to my left and saw nothing. And then, suddenly, he jumped off his horse and began to run towards me. Instinctively, and even though he was way too far away to touch me yet, I stepped back and lost my footing, falling into the mud.

  "Damnit!" I yelled, ineffectually brushing muck off my face with hands that were themselves covered. Well, Blaze, today's going well, isn't it? This is why they pay you the mid-range bucks.

  By the time I'd regained my footing the man – who I could now see definitely was Jack McMurtry – was within earshot. I could now almost hear what he was yelling, too. It sounded like "get out." Get out? Get out of what?

  "What?" I shouted back, thoroughly annoyed at the mess I'd gotten myself into.

  Jack was still gesturing. "The creek! Get out of the creek! Run!"

  Was he telling me to run? It was still difficult to hear, but that's what it sounded like. Why would he be telling me to run? Had he seen a bear? I thought you weren't supposed to run away from bears? Just as I was contemplating what to do if an angry grizzly appeared, a strange sound to my left caught my attention. Loud, almost like the rumble of an approaching freight train.

  I looked up and couldn't figure out what I was seeing. It looked like a wall. A wall of – something. And was it – was it moving? I stared harder. Yes, it was moving. It was moving very, very quickly.

  I don't know why I froze, but it probably had something to do with the fact that my brain couldn't manage to wrap itself around what was going on. Nothing I'd ever seen or experienced in my life gave me any clue what I was looking at. Had I known, I would have sprinted out of that creek bed as fast as I could. But I didn't. I stood there, transfixed as it – whatever it was – got closer and closer, and Jack McMurtry finally got close enough for me to hear him clearly.

  "Blaze! Get out of the creek right now!! BLAZE! GET OUT!"

  It was the note of what sounded like real panic in Jack's voice, and nothing within myself, that finally got me moving towards the edge of the creek bed again. I almost made it, too. Jack was scrambling down the steep, grassy slope, screaming at me to grab his hand when it hit me. I remember reaching out for a branch above me, still not fully aware of the danger I was in, and feeling surprised when the thick, soupy water yanked me neatly off my feet. It was barely ankle deep, how had it done that? But then it was knee deep, and Jack was receding as I found myself being dragged swiftly away from the spot where he was standing. I opened my mouth to scream and just began swallowing muddy water instead, trying to spit it out and take a breath but just getting more and more of it. The last thing I remember before everything went black was the sudden realization that I was probably dying.

  Chapter Three

  Jack

  I spotted Blaze Wilson in Parson's Creek just as I was about to head back home after checking that none of my cattle were anywhere near it after the downpour. It registered instantly that whatever she was doing down there – and I assumed it had been trying to take shelter – she wouldn't be aware of the fact that flash flooding was a common occurrence after a torrential downpour. It was going to be soon, too, because it had been raining for almost an hour at that point, which meant there was a wall of water, mud and debris heading at breakneck speed right in her direction at that very moment and she had no idea.

  Eventually, after realizing she could neither hear my voice nor understand my gestures, I flat-out ran down to the creek with my heart in my throat, reaching for her outstretched hand just as the flood swept her off her feet and carried her downstream. Parson's Creek isn't always dry, and I knew from having lost cattle in the past that there was a culvert about a foot and a half wide passing under Paddock Rd. If the floodwater carried Blaze Wilson that far before I could get to her, she was going to drown as the power of the water forced her into the culvert and trapped her there in the debris.

  So instead of trying to outrun the water I doubled back over the hill from where I'd just come, jumped back on my horse and galloped full-tilt to the little bend in the creek before it gets to the culvert. It occurred to me, on the ride, that the odds of success were low. Would I even be able to spot her? What if she'd already gone under? I dialed 9-1-1 as I ran to the creek and shouted instructions into the phone as my eyes scanned upstream, trying t
o spot her.

  "Paddock Road! The culvert! It – it's flooding – the storm, there's a woman in the water. Send the water rescue team!"

  The dispatcher began to question me but it was at that moment that I saw a flash of bright green about twenty feet away. A bright green sneaker and then a face. It was her.

  "Blaze!" I bellowed. "Blaze!"

  She couldn't hear me. In fact I couldn't even tell if she was conscious or not, she looked like a goddamned ragdoll getting jostled around by the debris in the water. I'd found a little eddy at the edge of the stream and it was into that small area of relative calm that I stepped, not allowing myself to think about what would happen if I slipped. I bent forward, still screaming her name, and reached out with both hands when the water carried her past me. I hauled her towards me so hard I fell over backwards, sending us both tumbling onto the slippery bank of the creek.

  "Blaze!" I shouted, yanking her clear of the flood and rolling her over so she was face-up. "Blaze!"

  Just as I was about to check to see if she was breathing she coughed suddenly and then began to vomit dark creek water. I rolled her onto her side as relief washed over me – coughing was good. Throwing up was good. She was alive.

  "Jack –" she whimpered, her voice trembling, before vomiting again. I had no idea a human being could throw up so much, it was like she'd swallowed half the damn flood all by herself.

  "It's OK," I told her, wanting her to focus on getting the water out of her system before she even tried to start talking. "It's OK, you're alright, you're safe. You've just swallowed a lot of water and your body is getting rid of it."

  And then Blaze Wilson began to cry, her body trembling with cold, adrenaline and relief. "Jack, I –"

  She threw up again, not much that time, and I yanked my t-shirt off over my head to wipe her mouth. "Blaze, look at me. Look at me." She looked at me and I spoke slowly and clearly, wiping the mud off her face and neck as I did so. "You're safe. Lord knows what you were doing hanging around in a dry creek bed after a rainfall like that, but you're safe.

  "I didn't," she started, gagging slightly before continuing, "I didn't know – I didn't, I –"

  "I know," I whispered, smiling reassuringly. "I was teasing you, because you just scared the shit out of me, woman, and I'm kind of trying not to freak out myself here, OK?"

  Blaze smiled weakly. "I still feel like I'm choking. It feels like there's water in my lungs."

  "That's because there probably is. The ambulance will be here soon, don't worry."

  "The ambulance?"

  "Yeah. You just about drowned, Blaze, you have to get checked by a doctor."

  She tried to speak again but the words caught in her throat and her eyes welled up. When I moved to wrap my t-shirt around her shoulders – a useless but possibly comforting gesture – she instinctively moved away. I recognized that move, a bit. It was the flinch of a person who is used to handling themselves and who has suddenly found themselves in the unfamiliar situation of needing help. I chuckled softly and shook my head.

  "It's OK, Blaze. I know I still have to pay my taxes. But you're freezing cold and I –"

  She looked up at me suddenly, a stricken expression on her face. I was about to ask her what it was about when the sound of an approaching siren filled the air. I stood up and flagged them down, filling in the paramedics on what had happened and watching as they lifted Blaze onto a stretcher and attached an oxygen mask to her face – which she immediately tried to rip off.

  "It's just oxygen," one of the medics told her in a slightly irritated voice, before putting it back over her mouth in a way I thought might have been a little too rough.

  "Hey!" I barked, stepping towards him. "She practically just died, man. You think you can chill out a little?"

  He backed off, bending down and explaining to Blaze that she needed the mask because they weren't sure how much water she had in her lungs.

  When it came time to load her into the ambulance, Blaze Wilson did something I wasn't expecting. She reached out one damp, trembling hand in my direction.

  "Are you coming?" One of the paramedics asked me, obviously impatient to get back to the hospital.

  "Uh," I said, catching Blaze's eye. "I – yes, I am. But not with you. I need to get my horse back home. Then I'll come. You're taking her to the General Clinic, right?"

  "Sure are."

  I took a step towards Blaze. She was crying again. Not surprising – it was a terrifying enough ordeal for me to go through, and I'd just been watching. Did she want me to come to the hospital? She was confused, maybe she reached for me thinking I was someone else? Would it even be appropriate, given our situation? I wanted to ask her myself but it was already too late, the ambulance doors were slamming shut and they were on their way.

  I stayed where I was, standing beside the culvert, and watched the ambulance lights flashing against the cloud-darkened sky as it drove back down Paddock Road and into town. When it was out of sight I sat down heavily in the wet grass and took a few deep, heavy breaths. Damn. But there wasn't too much time to think because I needed to get the horse back into his stable and think about whether or not to visit Blaze at the clinic. She was in town alone, as far as I knew, so it might be the right thing to do. She might need me to contact friends or family for her, because her phone was long gone in that flood if she'd had it on her. She might need me to get her a burger. Yeah, I'd go visit. It was just the decent thing to do.

  It was early in the afternoon when I got to the clinic. Jolene Waddell, who I remembered from high school, was at the front desk.

  "Well if it isn't Jack McMurtry," she greeted me, smiling. "Long time no see, Jack. Where've you been hiding?"

  I shrugged, not really wanting to talk about everything that happened to my family over the past few years. "Not hiding," I told her. "Just busy. Say, did the ambulance bring a woman in here – brown hair, probably soaking wet?"

  Jolene cocked her head to the side, curious. "Yeah, they did. Why – you know her?"

  She was that girl in high school, too – the one who always knew everybody's business, and it appeared things hadn't changed much since we graduated in 2006.

  "Uh – no, not really. She, uh, no, I don't know her. But I was the one who fished her out of Parson's Creek so I just thought I'd come check and see how she's doing."

  Jolene nodded and looked at her computer screen. "Well she's just down the hall. Room 112. You can go see her now, if you want. She's just fine."

  I walked down the hall, shivering inadvertently as it hit me that the last time I was there it was just before Old Blackjack passed away. He'd refused to be moved to a real hospital so during the last few weeks of his life we'd been at the clinic in Little Falls nearly every day, picking up new oxygen tanks or getting new and powerful painkillers prescribed. I tried not to think about it.

  The door to room 112 was open and I peeked inside before knocking. Blaze Wilson was lying in a bed, staring at the ceiling. She turned to face me before I made a sound.

  "Oh," she said ruefully. "It's you."

  "Yes it is me," I replied, raising an eyebrow at her tone. "I'm sorry, is my presence unnecessary?"

  She smiled weakly and shook her head. "I didn't mean it like that. I just – ugh, this is awkward, you know? It's not every day you get your life saved by someone who hates you. And when you do, well, it's hard to know what to say."

  I stopped short, shocked by what she'd just said. "I don't hate you," I protested. "Now where would you get a damn silly idea like that?"

  "You don't?" She asked, moving to sit up and then wincing and lying back down. "Ow. Everything hurts. The doctor said I'm going to be one big bruise by tomorrow. I'm all cut up, too, from the branches and sticks and things."

  "You're lucky that's all it is," I said, sitting down in the chair at the foot of the bed. "That was – Blaze, I don't know if you understand how dangerous that –"

  "I understand!" She cried. "You think I don't understand? I'm not an i
diot, Jack. It's just – it's kind of overwhelming, OK? I didn't wake up this morning thinking I was going to get caught in a flash food and nearly die. I didn't even know what was happening until it was on top of me."

  Without thinking, I reached out and patted her foot through the hospital blanket, withdrawing my hand as soon as I realized what I was doing. We both spoke at the same time.

  "Er, I... sorry –"

  "No, it's fine, I don't mind –"

  A moment of awkward silence passed.

  "So," I said. "Do you need me to call anyone? Or do you need to borrow my phone to make any calls, I mean? I don't imagine your phone survived the flood."

  Blaze shook her head. "It didn't. And yes, thank you, that would be really helpful. Not that I know what I'm going to say to anyone. Hey guys, Montana is fine, I nearly drowned today but the man I'm investigating saved me, see you when I get back! You realize I'm never going to live this down at the office, right?"

  Her hair was still wet, and I could see leaves and small sticks and bits and pieces stuck in it. She was beautiful, though. I knew she was beautiful from the first moment she showed up on my doorstep but something about what we'd just been through together made it more difficult for me to pretend I hadn't noticed – or that it didn't matter.

  It was at that moment that an older woman in a white coat walked in. She took one look at me and reached out to shake my hand.

  "And you must be the boyfriend?"

  I chuckled. "Uh, no."

  "Husband?"

  I opened my mouth, unsure of how to describe who I was, but the doctor clearly had more important things to do than get to the bottom of my relationship with her patient. She continued before I even got a single word out.