Rebecca reached out and laid a hand on Virginia’s arm. “I turned this over to God a long, long time ago. Maybe you should, as well.”
“Yes. Yes. You’re right,” Virginia whispered. Her blue eyes were filled with pain and unshed tears. She turned as a young woman approached with Casey by her side.
Rebecca’s heart clutched. The party dress Casey wore was rumpled, as though she’d been sleeping. “Oh, baby, are you okay?”
Her daughter nodded all the while rubbing her stomach with a hand. “My tummy hurts.”
Rebecca gently pushed Casey’s bangs aside and laid her hand on her daughter’s forehead. The damp skin burned with heat. There was more than a stomachache going on here.
“Let’s go home,” she said, with a nod of thanks to Virginia.
As they headed down the drive, Joe walked up to meet them.
“Look, Joe’s here,” Casey murmured, a small smile brightening her wan features.
“Yes. Joe’s here,” Rebecca said.
Joe met Rebecca’s gaze. “You handled that nicely.”
“Thank you,” she returned.
He knelt in front of her little girl. “How about if I carry you to the truck?”
“Yes. Please,” Casey said.
Joe walked down the long drive past the guard to the truck with Casey cradled in his arms.
Rebecca knew it was a memory she wouldn’t soon forget. “Oh, dear Lord,” she whispered. “Thank you for a friend like Joe Gallagher.”
Chapter Nine
“Gentlemen. We need to talk.” Joe stood in the doorway and crossed his arms.
Rod and Julian both froze and slowly turned to look at him. They stood at attention beside the long metal table set up in the equipment garage. Laptops, cameras and video equipment littered the makeshift work space where they reviewed each day’s footage.
Neither man uttered a word in response to his announcement.
“Becca suggested I let you film moving the cows to the fresh pasture.”
Rod let out a breath. “I thought we were in trouble again.”
Julian paled. “How are we going to do that?” He fiddled with his glasses.
“You two can ride the farm truck and film.”
Becca walked into the garage, excitement in her eyes at his words. “You’re going to let me help herd?”
“What are you doing here? What about Casey?”
“I took her to the doctor. Whatever she had has disappeared. My mother took her to Pueblo, to the zoo.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to take the day off? You could go with them.”
“I’ve already missed the entire morning.”
“You don’t punch a clock. Besides, I moved most of the herd already.”
“You did?”
Joe nodded. “There’s still a slight chance of rain until the end of the week. I had to. I’ve got about fifty or so stragglers left, if that makes you feel better. The plan is to gently encourage them back to the pasture. I’ll ride Blackie and pull up the rear with the dogs.” He met Becca’s gaze. “Would you be willing to ride outside the herd?”
“Sure,” she said.
“The dogs and I will be zigzagging back and forth.” He looked pointedly at Rod and Julian. “Keep the truck away from the cows.”
“What about me?” Abi asked as she joined them.
“You can come along, as long as you promise not to put any videos on YouTube,” Joe said.
“That hardly seems fair,” she murmured with feigned indignation.
Joe only chuckled as they all exited the garage. He slowed his pace to match Becca’s stride as they crossed the yard to the horses together.
“Sorry I couldn’t wait for you. Eighty percent chance of precipitation predicted for later this afternoon. I’m watching for a four-day stretch of sunshine before I hit full harvest mode. We may have it toward the end of the week.”
“Have you had any confirmations from your contacts?”
“Funny thing about that,” Joe said. “Suddenly everyone is previously committed.”
Rebecca gasped. “Judge Brown.”
“Not necessarily, but, yeah, that was my initial thought, as well.”
“It’s because of me. I feel terrible about this, Joe. What are you going to do?”
“We’ll find a way. Always do.”
They saddled up the horses and headed out toward the pasture.
Joe whistled for the dogs and picked up his pace, trotting Blackie in the other direction. “There they are,” he called out. Straight ahead the last of the herd had gathered near the water trough, with a few stragglers near the creek.
“The dogs and I will rustle along those near the creek, then I’ll head to the front to turn them around. You’re okay working the outside?”
“Of course,” she answered. “I’ve got things covered. Don’t worry.”
“But I do worry,” Joe muttered. “I worry plenty.”
“Where’s the truck?” Becca called to Joe.
“Here it comes.” He pointed a gloved hand behind them. The truck slowly approached with Rod seated in the flatbed with his camera as Julian drove and Abi rode shotgun.
Becca called out to Rod and Julian. “Joe is going to turn the cows and start the forward movement. Stay back from the herd. I’ll be moving toward them once he gets things turned around.”
“Why would you move toward them?” Rod asked.
“Cattle will move in the opposite direction of a perceived threat or predator.” She turned in the saddle. “Julian, stay back so we don’t spook them or the horses. And don’t get out of the truck. You’ll be crushed if you’re in the wrong place and they get agitated.”
“Crushed? There’s a chance of getting crushed? I’m not too sure this is in my job description,” Julian returned.
“Follow Becca’s instructions and you’ll be fine,” Joe said. We just don’t want you to find yourself between a cow and her calf.”
“No worries. We’re all staying in the truck,” Rod said. “Those cows look pretty big to me.”
“They may be big, but they aren’t all that smart. Try to remember that cowboys have been doing this for a very long time.”
“You’d have thought they’d come up with a better plan than this after two or three hundred years,” Rod observed.
Joe chuckled at the comment as he and the dogs pushed past the cows to the front. Gil and Wishbone nipped at the heels of the animals, encouraging them along and turning them around. Joe gave a nod of satisfaction. Finally something was going right.
As the first of the herd plodded along, moving along the trail to the new pasture, Julian called out from the truck. “Rawhide.” His face was bright with excitement.
Rod offered a hearty thumbs-up to Joe as he filmed.
This was good. They’d get their footage, and he’d get his herd moved.
Becca continued to encourage the herd along, riding Princess on the outside, right where they could see her and out of the cattle’s blind spot. “Come on,” she encouraged the cows “You’ve done this before. Let’s move nice and steady. We’ll be done real quick.”
“You talking to yourself?” Joe hollered.
“Yes. I am. You talk to the dogs.”
“That’s true,” he returned with a smile of satisfaction.
Moments later, Julian hollered from the truck window and waved his arms. His panicked voice rang out. “Joe, behind you. Those cows are headed off in the wrong direction. What should I do?”
“Easy, there Julian,” Joe called back. “We don’t worry about stragglers. Relax, buddy. The dogs and I will catch them later.”
The blare of the truck’s horn blasted into the air.
“No,” Joe yelled. “
Don’t use the horn. You’ll spook the...”
Becca’s horse was closest to the truck. At the sound Princess reared with panic, nostrils flaring. Eyes wild, the mare snorted and galloped in a circle with Becca struggling desperately to soothe the animal and rein her in. Princess circled one more time before taking off with Becca clinging to the reins.
“Get the truck away from the herd,” Joe called to Julian, his full attention on Becca.
The rumble of hooves on the ground drowned his voice as the remaining cows began to stampede. He wasn’t concerned about the small herd. It was Becca who had his full attention. His heart thundered as he raced Blackie after them.
“No. No. No,” he whispered. “Not Becca. Not now.”
Princess and Becca continued their wild ride. When the horse and rider approached a thicket of trees, the mare suddenly stopped, the action tossing Becca into the air as though she were weightless. She landed against a fallen tree branch.
Joe slid off his horse and raced to where she lay on her side, sprawled on the ground still muddy from last week’s rain. He skidded to a stop in the mud, kneeling next to her. Her hat and phone were scattered on the ground, and her body was twisted awkwardly. He was terrified to move her.
He tore off his gloves using his teeth and felt her neck for a pulse. “Oh, Lord,” he murmured. “Please, please don’t let her die on me.”
“I am not dead.”
“Becca?” Joe blinked.
When her lashes fluttered, relief pounded through him.
She moaned and rolled to her back. “Ouch.”
“What hurts?” he asked.
“What doesn’t?”
With a gentle motion, he elevated her shoulder to release the limb that was still twisted behind her.
“Much better. Thank you.” She tried to sit up and groaned, easing back down. “Oh, man, I’m dizzy. This is definitely not how I planned to spend my day.”
“Stay still,” Joe said. He carefully patted her down from head to foot. The back of her head boasted a lump, though the skin remained intact.
“Can you move your legs?”
Eyes closed, she wiggled her boots.
“Thank you, God,” Joe said aloud.
“I see you two are talking again,” Becca murmured.
“This isn’t funny,” he ground out. For once, he was grateful for the rain. With the exception of a few jagged rocks from the gravel and dirt road, the ground was cushioned with soft grass and thick mud where she’d landed.
He checked her extremities. All intact except her right arm. Red seeped through a long-sleeve shirt. Joe swallowed hard, fear rising within him. He grasped the fabric with both hands until the cotton tore, allowing him to push the material out of the way enough to evaluate the injury.
A gash at least six inches long bled steadily, but didn’t appear to have severed any major blood vessels. Beside the cut, a long, disfiguring scar trailed the inside of Becca’s arm. She’d injured herself before?
“Here.” A cotton gauze pad was thrust at him.
Joe looked up. Abi stood over them. “Where’d you get this?”
“First-aid kit in the truck.”
“Thanks.” He applied the pad to Becca’s arm and then pulled a cotton handkerchief from his pocket, securing the gauze in place.
“Will she be all right?” Abi asked on a near sob.
“There doesn’t seem to be anything broken. I’m not a doctor, and that was some fall she took. No doubt she has a concussion.”
“It’s not nice to talk about me like I’m not here,” Becca whispered, her eyes still closed.
“Oh, Rebecca,” Abi said, kneeling down. “That was quite a scare.”
Becca reached out a hand, and Abi took it.
“I’m going to be fine,” Becca said.
“I’m counting on it,” Abi returned.
“Is Rod okay?” Joe asked. “Did Julian get the truck out of the way?”
“Rod’s fine. Shaken up, but fine. He nearly fell out of the flatbed once Julian hit the gas pedal.”
“And Julian?”
“Julian is a mess, blubbering that he killed Rebecca.”
“Oh, brother.”
Abi released Becca’s hand and stood. “Yeah, tell me about it. What do you want me to do, Joe?”
“Call 9-1-1. Tell them Gallagher Ranch. North access road. Then park the truck there so you can direct them. The north access is the gate Rod stumbled on the first day. Think you can find it?”
“I’ve got it.”
“Thanks, Abi. Oh, and get Rod and Julian back to the house, as well.”
“No problem.”
An agitated whinny indicated that Princess had returned. Joe stood and pulled the dragging reins from the mud, tying the leather to a tree. “Easy, girl. Easy. It’s all over now.” He murmured more soothing words as he stroked the mare.
A phone rang and Joe scrambled around on the ground until he found the device. Mud covered the screen. He could let it go to voice mail, but what if it was important? What if it was her mother? Becca would want him to take the call if it was about something important.
“My phone?” she murmured.
“I found it, Becca.” He held it to his ear. “Hello?”
“You need to get out of Paradise. You aren’t wanted here.”
“Who is this?” Joe demanded.
The call disconnected.
There was no doubt in his mind that the voice on the other end of the unidentified call was Judge Brown. He stared at the phone. Did that call mean that the Judge had threatened Becca before? He was going to find out, and right away.
In the distance, the wailing siren of the Paradise Valley ambulance echoed. Moments later, another siren sounded as well, indicating that someone from the sheriff’s department was also on his way.
“Becca, open your eyes.”
“No need to yell. I’m right here,” she said.
“Can you see me?”
She opened her eyes and blinked. “Yes. It hurts to look, but I can see you very clearly.” Her eyes closed again. “Stop frowning.”
“I called an ambulance, Becca.”
“No. I can’t afford an ambulance. I’m perfectly capable of getting up.”
He put a gentle, yet firm hand on her shoulder when she attempted to rise to a seated position. “Don’t move.”
“Yes, sir.”
“We’re not taking any chances. That was quite a fall.”
She nodded slowly, her eyes wide open now.
Joe looked deep into her brown eyes. Today they were the color of the pecans harvested on the ranch in the autumn. His hands stopped shaking long enough for him to gently push the hair away from her face, and wipe a dab of mud from her chin. A bruise was starting to color her forehead.
“I’m a real mess, huh?”
“You look beautiful,” Joe whispered as he untangled a mass of her dark hair.
He froze, and his breath hitched. The words “and I love you,” had nearly slipped from his lips.
In that moment, he realized that he had never stopped loving Rebecca Anshaw. Twelve long years and he loved her as much as when he was a kid.
Joe sighed and shook his head.
“What’s wrong?” Becca murmured.
“Nothing at all.”
Nothing at all, except now he had one more thing to keep him awake at night.
* * *
“Why do I need an IV?” Rebecca asked the nurse.
“That cowboy who brought you in indicated you lost a lot of blood, so the doctor wanted to be safe. Besides, a little normal saline makes everything better, don’t you think?”
“I’ll take your word for it.” Rebecca sat quietly on the gurney as the f
luid dripped into the tubing.
“Don’t you want to lie down?” the nurse asked.
“No. I feel fine. My vision is back to normal. When can I go home?”
“Your arm isn’t sutured yet, but I imagine Dr. Rogers will release you once she has the X-ray and CT scan results.”
“Dr. Rogers? What happened to the doctor who examined me when I came in? The one who did that neuro exam.”
“Oh, you know. Shift change. Dr. Rogers is taking over. She says she’s a friend of yours.”
“Dr. Rogers?”
“Sara Elliott Rogers.”
“Oh, Sara Elliott.” Rebecca smiled. “Yes. We practically grew up together on her father’s ranch.”
“Well, then. That’s good news. She’ll be here in a moment.”
On cue, the door opened and her old friend walked in. Sara Elliott Rogers looked exactly the same as Rebecca remembered. Petite with a smattering of freckles on her face, and black hair pulled back into a French braid.
“Marta, thanks for cleaning up that wound. I’ll finish up.” She turned to Rebecca. “This is a terrible way to catch up with an old friend.”
“Sara!”
“Easy. Stay on that gurney.” Sara moved over to offer her a hearty hug. “I’ve missed you, cowgirl.” She moved back to assess Rebecca and frowned. “That’s going to be some bruise in the middle of your forehead. Sort of like old times, right? We certainly got a lot of scrapes and shiners on the ranch, didn’t we?”
“Yes. We did. What’s this I hear about you having twins? Is that right?” Rebecca asked.
“Yes. They’re almost two now. I’m going a little crazy trying to keep up with them. I’ve cut back to working part-time here and at the Paradise Clinic.”
“We’ll have to plan to get together. I’d love to see them.”
“Absolutely.” Sara donned a pair of gloves. “So the nurse cleaned up your wound. All we have to do is stitch you up.” She turned to assess the suture kit laid out and ready. “Why don’t you lay back and get comfortable.”
Rebecca rested against the small gurney pillow.
“Any dizziness when you reclined?”
“No, that seems to have gone away.”
Rocky Mountain Cowboy Page 11
