When the stampede began, he’d been standing beside Pete, preparing the corral for the horses’ imminent arrival. The stampede had happened so quickly, so unexpectedly, that Owen had stood frozen in those first seconds, in disbelief. Then his concern for Charlotte easily overrode his surprise.
Charlie! he shouted silently.
Owen found her on the fence rail and had hoped that she had enough good sense to climb over and run to safety. But then she had fallen and he’d begun to run. Facing down the onrush of terrified horses, he’d proceeded without regard for his own life; it was irrelevant, unnecessary. Nothing mattered except getting Charlotte out of the corral.
Once he’d managed to make it to where she lay, Owen had been glad but hardly relieved; they were still in the corral with the frenzied horses. Once he’d gotten Charlie moving, a horse turned directly toward her. Owen acted without thought, pushing her out of the way even though it had placed him right in the path of the charging animal. He’d closed his eyes an instant before he’d been struck.
And damn! It hurt!
Now he lay on his back, blinking the confusion from his eyes. Everything seemed muted, dull. Blackness crept over his vision and the pounding of the horses’ hooves, their panicked whinnying, sounded like it was happening far away. Somehow, he managed to turn his head to see Charlotte just out of his reach. She was shouting at him, but he couldn’t hear a word she said. Deep down he knew that he needed to get to her.
With great effort, Owen rolled over onto his side, then to his knees. For all he knew, another horse might be barreling toward him, intent on finishing the job the first had started, but he hadn’t the energy to look. He kept his eyes locked on Charlotte, even if he couldn’t see her clearly, and never wavered.
“You can make it, Owen!” he heard her shout.
I hope you’re right, Charlie…
A horse’s hoof landed so close to Owen’s foot that, he knew in his befuddled mind, when it rose to take another step it would strike his boot. At any moment he could be severely injured, perhaps killed. All he could do to prevent it was keep going…
Suddenly, a huge shape loomed up before him, blocking out Charlotte. He couldn’t tell if it was on her side of the fence or his, but it surprised him so much that he quit moving.
“Give me your hand, damn it!” a man’s voice shouted.
Owen heard it as clearly as if his head were submerged in the horses’ water trough, but the meaning wasn’t lost on him. Straining his sore muscles until his shoulder hurt from the effort, he reached out, wriggling his fingers, hoping to find purchase. Like a vise, a hand clamped down on him, pulling him roughly across the ground and through the fence.
“You’re hurt!” Charlotte cried, her hands touching his face.
“It isn’t… that bad,” Owen wheezed. “Just… every bone in… my body…”
“Just lie there. Don’t move.”
“Don’t think… I got much choice in the matter…”
The last of the traumatized horses raced past heading down the remaining length of the passageway. Men ran after them, shouting, yelling, and whistling more to one another than to get the horses’ attention. The whole thing hadn’t lasted longer than a few minutes, maybe two or three, but that had been more than enough time for significant damage to be done.
Owen lay still, hoping that the world around him would finally stop spinning. It was just beginning to slow a bit when a man’s face leaned down toward him. He recognized him immediately; even as dazed as Owen was, it was impossible to miss a man Hale’s size.
“I reckon that… I got you to thank for pulling me out of the way…”
“You would’ve done the same for me, wouldn’t you?” Hale asked, a hint of a smile poking through his rough exterior.
“Maybe,” Owen answered. “Don’t know if I’d be strong enough… to pull you out, though…”
Hale chuckled, the humor a pleasant break from the wreckage the stampede had wrought. “You done right good today.”
“He saved my life!” Charlotte exclaimed.
“And for that I’m grateful.” Hale nodded. “But now ain’t the time for us to be thankin’ each other. Now’s the time to figure out what the hell just happened.”
Charlotte started to say something, but it was lost to Owen. The urge to close his eyes had become too great to ignore, so instead of continuing to fight it, he gave in and let the blackness wash over him.
Charlotte sat on a pile of hay bales that had been tossed beside the open doors of the tack barn. She was glad to be out of the afternoon sun but annoyed when she had to occasionally swat at insistent flies buzzing about her head; they seemed utterly absorbed with nipping at her, even after she managed to kill a couple of them.
A couple of hours had passed since the stampede that had nearly cost her and Owen their lives. Her heart still hadn’t managed to settle down. Every loud noise, the sound of a hammer being tossed aside or one of Salt’s barks, set her off, certain that another calamity was about to take place.
Owen had been taken up to the main house just as soon as the horses were rounded up and safely put away in their corrals. A couple of other men were hurt even more seriously than Owen. Charlotte had followed the procession, fretting every step of the way, holding on to Owen’s hand so tightly that their fingers had gone white. Once he was placed in a room, the tears she’d been holding back burst free. Owen tried to assure her that there was nothing to worry about; he even promised that he would be well enough for them to go roller-skating later in the week. Amelia had come in and shooed her away, explaining that there was nothing she could do for him besides worrying herself sick.
And that’s exactly what I’ve done ever since…
Del had comforted her for a while, trying to explain to her that these sorts of things happened from time to time, part of living on a ranch, and that there was nothing that could have been done to prevent it, but he was soon called away to help with the repairs to the broken fence posts.
“I hear that you had something of a close call.”
Charlotte looked up to see John Grant’s smiling face; she couldn’t tell if it was the shadows thrown by the barn, but he looked older all of a sudden, as if the events of the day had prematurely aged him.
“I could have been killed. Owen too.”
“Speakin’ for all of us, I’m mighty happy to see the two of you still with us.”
“The only reason that I am here is Owen,” Charlotte told him, eager to provide another example of how utterly mistaken everyone at the Grant Ranch was about Owen. “I was frozen in place. I wanted to move, but looking at those horses barreling toward me, I just couldn’t will myself forward. Owen came to me. If it wasn’t for him…”
“Hale told me all ’bout it. Don’t think that it’s gonna go unrewarded.”
“He’s a good man.”
“Even more than I gave him credit for, it seems.”
Charlotte couldn’t help but read into what John was telling her; he had such an easygoing nature, grandfatherly and warm, that he was nearly impossible to figure out. She knew that she could go crazy trying to unravel all of the mysteries she had encountered in Oklahoma and, quite frankly, she was too tired to try tonight.
“Been a long time since we had horses get so out of control,” John said. “Usually it’s only one or two that get out of sorts. Today must’ve reminded you of the days you can’t control them kids at school.”
Charlotte struggled to fix a smile on her face. Ever since the stampede at the corral, all she’d been able to think about was the shocking sight of the heavyset ranch hand violently swinging a board into the horse’s rump. It seemed so impossible that she began to wonder if she’d imagined it or it was a misunderstanding. He’d been quite a ways away from her, down on the far end of the procession of horses, but she’d been looking right at him. Surely, he couldn’t have done what she thought he had?
From somewhere deep inside her, Charlotte thought it might be a huge mis
take to tell John what she had seen. Likely, he would think she was traumatized from nearly being trampled. If he did believe her, he’d want as many details as she could give him; maybe he would even walk her about the ranch, expecting her to pick out the man she had accused. The worst would be if he thought she was lying. Her growing relationship with Owen would cloud any claim she might make; after all, wouldn’t she say anything to remove suspicion from the man she had become romantically involved with?
Before she did anything, she needed to talk to Owen. They needed to be united before any decision was made.
“Let’s just hope that there isn’t a next time,” she said weakly.
“Amen to that.”
As John walked away, Charlotte swore to herself that she would talk to Owen and they would get to the bottom of what was happening on the ranch. From the fire, to the well, and now to the stampede of horses, it seemed as if the ranch was cursed. If someone was behind all that had happened he needed to be stopped before something worse happened.
Chapter Twenty-two
THE TRUCK’S HEADLIGHTS cut through the thick darkness that blanketed the countryside outside of Sawyer. Owen, Charlotte, Hannah, and Hale drove into town to the roller-skating rink. The chirp of crickets and cicadas pierced the night, a keening that rose and fell, sharp to the ear. The moon hung just above the hilltops; only a few stars were bright enough to compete with its brilliant light. The night was much cooler than the evenings that had preceded it, and a low hanging fog clung to the air above the creek that ran parallel to the road.
“Aren’t you cold with the window open?” Charlotte asked Hannah, wedged between her and Owen in the truck’s cab.
“It’s not so bad,” she answered, her hair drifting in the breeze flowing from outside.
Charlotte shivered. “It’s cooler than it has been.”
“Must mean there may be a storm on the way,” Owen observed. “Since we’ve been in Oklahoma, it seems that once the temperature drops, a day or two later there’s one heck of a storm.”
“I don’t like it.” Charlotte frowned as she rubbed her arms for warmth.
“I wonder if Hale is cold,” Hannah said worriedly.
Hale bounced around in the bed of the truck as it made its way down the dirt road. It was impossible for all four of them to ride in the cab. With his hair slicked flat over his head, Hale was dressed in his finest clothes; Hannah whispered that it was the outfit he always wore to church. Charlotte thought that Owen’s sister was flattered she rated so high. But then they were all dressed up for the night out. Charlotte wished she had thought to bring a jacket.
“Are you doing all right back there?” Hannah shouted out the window.
“What?” Hale bellowed, tapping his ear.
“I said, are you doing—?”
“He can’t hear a word you’re saying,” Owen said.
Instead of continuing to holler, Hannah turned around and blew Hale a kiss. His face instantly flushed deep red.
“I still don’t think it was such a good idea that you came along,” Charlotte said to Owen. “A good night’s sleep is what you need.”
“There’s nothing wrong with me.”
“Oh, really,” Charlotte said as she lightly brushed her fingers against his ribs.
“Ouch!” Owen winced, the truck weaving enough for Hale to rap his huge hand against the window out of concern. “Knock it off!”
“That’s what I thought.”
“You’d flinch, too, if I pushed that hard against your ribs!”
“I barely touched you!”
“It didn’t feel like it.”
“It’s too bad that he didn’t get hit in the head.” Hannah smiled, leaning across Charlotte to give her brother a sly, mischievous grin. “With all the rocks he keeps in it, he wouldn’t have felt a thing.”
“Very funny,” Owen said sarcastically.
“I’m starting to feel sorry for him,” Charlotte added, getting in on the act.
“Why’s that?”
“Do you remember what you said the first time we saw them putting up the roller-skating rink tent? You said that you’ve never been on skates before.”
“So what?” He frowned. “Why?”
“Skating is a lot harder than it looks. There are a lot of people who aren’t particularly graceful on their own feet, so you can imagine what it’s like when they strap four wheels beneath each foot. It takes a while to get used to skates. Most people who have never been on them before tend to fall down a lot. Now, imagine what it would be like for a person already hurt. Falling over and over onto the wooden floor doesn’t sound like a fun evening to me.”
Owen said nothing, staring silently forward, his jaw set firm.
“You better watch it.” Hannah laughed. “If you keep that up, he might turn the truck around and take us back to the ranch!”
Only the two women in the cab laughed.
Sawyer soon came into view; only a few lights shone from the houses on the town’s outskirts, more faintly than the street lamps that lined Main Street. For a Saturday night, the town was quiet, although there seemed to be more activity at the tavern farther up the road. A few cars and trucks were parked near the entrance to the roller-skating rink tent. Colored flags lolled lazily at the tops of the tent poles, stirred by the scant breeze. When Owen parked, organ music floated through the truck’s open window.
“This is going to be great!” Hannah declared. Whipping open the door, she jumped outside, spreading her arms in the fresh night air. “C’mon, Hale!”
“Okay.”
“No point in wasting time!” she shouted, not waiting. Hale leaped out of the truck bed and hurried along behind, following her like a loyal puppy.
Owen smiled. “It looks like fun.”
“Are you sure that you can do this?” Charlotte asked in earnest. “I was teasing you earlier, but you probably will fall down quite a bit. We can always come back some other night and skate.”
“I’ll be fine, but if you’re so worried about me, then I guess you’re gonna have to stay close to me to make sure I stay on my feet.”
Charlotte stared at Owen suspiciously. “If I didn’t know better, I’d swear that was your intention all along.”
“I like being close to you, Charlie, but even I’m not dumb enough to let a horse run me over just so I can get your attention!”
After Owen paid the man at the entrance, they passed through a wooden gate and stepped out onto the floor of the roller-skating rink. Three tent poles rose up from the floor, high into the air, supporting an enormous blue canvas tent. The floor was larger than she had expected, shining brightly under the glare of the lights that had been strung down the middle of the tent and around the edges. Waltz music played on a record, broadcast over a loudspeaker hung in the corner, the needle occasionally skipping a beat. People of all ages skated around and around in circles, the well dressed and shabby alike, both old and young, some as couples and others with friends, all laughing and smiling as they rolled past, some of them struggling to keep their balance. Others stopped to rest on benches that had been set out along the edges of the floor. Charlotte caught sight of Paige Spratt as she skated past, arm in arm with her husband; he was as rail thin and awkward looking as his wife. Charlotte’s fellow teacher gave her a dismissive look, her nose raised high in disdain. Charlotte stifled a laugh; tonight, of all nights, she wouldn’t let anything mar her time with Owen.
“Oh, that looks like such fun!” Charlotte exclaimed.
“Sure does,” Owen agreed, though his hand went to favor his bruised ribs.
Over in the corner just inside the entrance, an older man stood behind a tall counter. They gave him their shoe sizes; he bent down and came back up with skates for them to clamp onto their shoes. They sat down on nearby benches to put them on.
“You slip that through there and then you—” Charlotte said when it looked as if Owen was struggling with his skates.
“I know what I’m doing.”
He frowned. “I’m not totally worthless, you know!”
“You could have fooled me!”
Charlotte had come to love the playfulness between them. Though Owen was undeniably rough around the edges, there was much more to him than she would ever have guessed after their first drive into town. It was comforting to have him with her, sharing a laugh, giving her guff. But it was when she remembered what he had done for her earlier in the week, how he had nearly been killed saving her from the slashing hooves, that she realized how special what they had together was becoming. That he had insisted on coming skating was proof of his interest in her. Taking his hand in hers, she expected him to make some wise comment, something like What are you doing that for?, but instead he only smiled.
“What’s taking you so long?” Hannah asked as she whizzed by, proving to be a natural on her skates.
“We’re coming,” Charlotte answered.
“Isn’t this just what you were wishing for, Hale?” Owen’s sister shouted over her shoulder at her date.
Hale looked as uncomfortable on skates as one of his beloved horses might look in a dress. His huge arms flailed at his sides as he desperately tried to maintain his balance, sweat dripping down his face. Rather than letting his skates glide over the wooden floor, he lifted them high before putting them down, as if he were simply walking down the street. All of the other skaters smiled at him as they went by, steering wide of him out of fear that if he went down he might take them with him.
“This… this is harder… than it looks…” he mumbled.
Hannah turned around and headed right back toward Hale. When he saw her coming, he stumbled, crashing down onto his backside with such a thud that it seemed the whole rink shook.
“Don’t think for one second that I’m going to try to pick you back up.” Hannah smiled. “You’re on your own!”
Sheepishly, Hale rolled over onto his side and achingly, painstakingly struggled back to his feet; the only thing that he seemed to have wounded was his pride.
Dorothy Garlock - [Tucker Family] Page 20
