Jack grinned and flipped his own blue-team cap around until the bill was to the back, before he squatted down and punched the center of his catcher’s mitt for good measure. For a micromanaging director, Lucy sure was cute. Distractingly so, in her jeans and red boots. Who played softball in cowboy boots? He chuckled and forced himself to focus on the pitcher. All Rue had to do was strike Lucy out, and the red team would be shut out.
On the mound, General Rue Butterfield began to wind up. Clearly, the general knew her way around a pitching mound. She stood with her left leg slightly elevated, followed by the synchronous movement of her hip as she released the ball.
It flew through the air toward Lucy, faster than a homing missile.
Crack!
Whoa! The woman could bat!
Jack jumped up to keep his eye on the ball as it sailed impossibly high and far. He blinked. It seemed apparent he’d underestimated this particular batter.
“Long fly ball,” someone called out. Lucy dropped the bat and headed to first, red boots moving faster than he imagined the cowgirl could run.
“Way to make something happen,” one of the teenagers on the red team yelled. The chants of support became louder as each runner rounded bases and headed home.
“Take ’er home, Lucy! Take ’er home!” another player called.
“Go! Go! Go!” Dub screamed from his spot on the sidelines. His normally pale complexion was ruddy with the exertion.
Rue backed up and positioned herself to catch the ball the outfielder tossed to her, just as Lucy passed third, her eye intent on home.
Jack cupped his hands around his mouth. “Slide! Slide! You can do it, Lucy!”
Lucy dove at the same time Jack caught the ball Rue threw to him. Red dust filled the air in a cloud, making it impossible to determine the outcome.
“Safe!” the umpire called, arms crossing and then spreading wide.
Lucy stood, a goofy grin on her face, along with a film of dusty red clay. She smiled at him and rubbed her chin with a hand, revealing a bright red abrasion where her face had kissed the ground.
“Nice job, Jeter,” Jack said. “Uh, you cut your lip and your chin is bleeding, as well.”
“All part of the job,” she said. “All part of the job.”
“No, really. It’s bleeding,” he said.
“I’m fine.” She lifted her fingers to her face, carefully touching the area, and grimaced.
“Right. I’ve heard that song somewhere before,” he muttered.
“Jack, you seem to be under the impression you are on Lucy’s team,” Rue observed as she approached from the field, her mitt tucked beneath her arm. She pulled a well-worn copy of the rule book from her back pocket. “Do you need to read this?”
Jack laughed. “Not necessary, General. I have a firm policy of always rooting for the underdog. Another facet of my diverse moral compass.”
“Moral compass? You should have been a politician,” Lucy panted as she worked hard to catch her breath. She stood staring at him with indignation flushing her face. “And I am not an underdog. You started rooting for me so you’d be on the winning side in your mind.”
Jack chuckled, unwilling to admit that rooting for Lucy sort of came out of nowhere. He couldn’t help himself.
Rue glanced at Lucy. “Nicely done, dear, but you need medical attention.”
Overhead light streaked across the darkening summer sky, followed by the ferocious roar of thunder.
“It will have to wait,” Lucy said, her gaze fixed on the fast-moving black clouds above as thunder ripped the air again moments later.
Dub rocketed into the air from his position on the batter’s bench and screamed, “Thunder!” His voice quivered.
“Easy, Dub. Easy,” Lucy soothed. She shook her head. “Those clouds are moving quickly, but the flash-to-bang count says the heart of that storm is still two miles away. We should have enough time to get to safety. Barely.”
Jack met Lucy’s gaze. “Did you minor in meteorology in college?” he asked.
“You’ve got to stay keenly tuned in to the weather when camping. Especially in Oklahoma. This storm was only supposed to be precipitation. Once again I was trumped by Mother Nature.” She put her hands around her mouth. “Game called due to weather! Pack up your gear and grab your horses. We are out of here in five.”
Groans went up as players left the field and jogged toward the tents.
“What do you mean the game is called? We were about to win,” Jack said.
“When pigs fly. My team was about to win,” she smoothly replied before turning to Dub. “Get in the wagon quickly, and put on your rain slicker and seat belt.”
“Yeth, Miss Lucy.”
Then she pointed to Jack. “You’ll need to roll up your tent and pack. You have five or six minutes.”
“Five minutes? You’ve got to be kidding. It took me four hours to put the thing up.”
A glance at the sky confirmed her words. Large drops began to sail through the air and splatter on them. “Jack, I’m serious here. We leave as a group in five. Any longer and we’ll increase the risk of being struck by lightning. Get Grace packed up, but don’t ride her.”
“Why not?”
“Visibility is going to be an issue, and we don’t want any injuries. To horses or humans. Simply keep her calm.”
“Where exactly is safety?” he asked.
“There’s another route that will take us around the creek. We can make it in ten minutes.”
“Make it where?” He turned around. “Lucy?”
The director had disappeared. Five minutes later, when she blew on the giant silver whistle that hung around her neck, he was still struggling with his tent poles.
“Line up!” she called.
“Jack, do you need help?” Rue asked as she straightened her clear plastic rain slicker and pulled the hood up over her silver curls.
He held up the plastic tent poles. “Why is it these things never go back in the package the way you found them?”
Rue only laughed. In under a minute she had the tent and poles neatly tucked into the pouch. “Practice, dear. Practice.”
“Uh, thanks. Why aren’t we waiting out the storm?” he asked the physician.
She shook her head. “We won’t last the storm, not to mention that we’re a target for a lightning strike out here in the open. Put on your slicker and prepare for the worst. This is a real Oklahoma gully washer.”
“Gully washer again,” he muttered.
“Indeed. The water moves fast and creates a dangerous torrent as it travels across the hard clay. Through the woods is the backup plan.”
“To grandmother’s house we go?”
“Something like that,” Rue said as she flicked on her flashlight. “Follow me.”
Lucy blew the whistle yet again, and all heads turned toward the director. “We will be walking our horses very carefully. Stay calm and they will, too.” She pulled the hood on her cherry-red rain slicker over her hair as rainfall steadily increased, along with the wind.
“Once we get through the woods and arrive at the barn, stable your horse and wipe them down!” Now Lucy was yelling to be heard over the storm. “After you lock the stall, meet General Butterfield at the front of the barn for head count.”
The clopping of horses’ hooves and the steady drumming of falling rain provided the backdrop for the campers walking through the dark woodland trail. Grace shook her head, tossing moisture from her mane as the rain sluiced down her broad face each time there was a gap in the tree coverage overhead.
Jack shivered and pulled up his shirt collar against the water that ran down his back. The sweatshirt he’d shrugged over his head back at camp was already heavy with moisture. “How far is this place?” he asked Rue.
“A straight shot. Ten minutes at most.” She loo
ked him up and down, a frown on her face. “Where’s your rain slicker?”
“I might have forgotten to bring one.”
Rue chuckled. “And your flashlight?”
“Confiscated. It was on my phone.”
“Ah, right, city boy.” She thrust an old-fashioned battery-operated flashlight into his hands. “Here. I have a spare. Not as cool as yours, I’m sure, but it works.”
“Thanks, Rue.” He shined the light toward the back of the procession. “Where’s Dub and the chuck wagon?”
“The chuck wagon detoured straight to the main road and around. They’ll meet us there.” She smiled and patted his arm. “Don’t worry about your buddy. He’s safe.”
Jack paused at Rue’s words. Yeah, he was worried. Only a week, and already he was attached to the little guy. Attached and also responsible for him, even though he’d promised himself never again. There went his good intentions.
“I’m going to the rear to round up the stragglers,” Rue said. She clucked her tongue and led her horse away from him.
A sudden gust of wind and rain nearly pulled Jack’s ball cap off, before he repositioned it snugly on his head and wiped moisture from his face with the back of his hand.
“How do you like the weather?”
Jack jumped at the words and turned to see Lucy. “You’re kind of like a ninja, aren’t you? You appear silently out of the darkness.” He glanced at her dark chestnut horse. “Even your horse is stealthy.”
“Right. Cowgirl ninja and her faithful horse, Blaze.”
Yet again, a streak of lightning lit up the sky overhead, followed by thunder. Grace whinnied nervously, and her hooves clopped on the wet ground in a fretful two-step next to him. Jack grabbed the reins tighter and ran a hand over the horse’s forehead. “Easy, girl,” he crooned.
“Grace doing okay?” Lucy asked.
“Actually, Grace seems to really like the rain. It’s that noise she’s not crazy about.”
When Grace nodded and nickered in agreement, both Lucy and Jack laughed.
“How safe are we from lightning in the woods?” he asked Lucy.
“Safer than we were in that open field. Safer than if there were only one or two trees. I’ve been praying since that first lightning strike, Jack. That’s all I know to do when the going gets tough. That and move quickly.”
The trail narrowed and Jack pushed back the wet, low-hanging leaves of a maple and held them for Lucy and several campers to pass through. Then he blinked at the sight before him.
Not far ahead was a huge two-story log home lit up like a candle in the storm to welcome them. A rust-colored barn was angled to the left of the house. The chuck wagon had been parked in the drive, right in front of the house.
“What is this? You’ve been holding out on me,” Jack said when he caught up to Lucy. “This was here all along?”
She stopped and they stood side by side, staring at the shelter from the storm straight ahead. “Don’t get too excited. It’s an empty house.”
“An empty house in the middle of nowhere?”
“That’s right.”
“Running water?” he asked.
“Yes. Well water.”
“Electricity?”
“Yes.”
“What do you use this for?”
“I don’t use the place, although it’s kept stocked with emergency supplies. Canned food, candles, powdered milk, blankets and first-aid supplies. The usual doomsday stuff.”
“Just in case of a zombie apocalypse?”
“Exactly,” Lucy said. She turned to him with a slight smile.
He stared, fascinated, as the rain landed on her long eyelashes. When moisture ran down her nose, Jack was unable to resist reaching out a finger to catch the errant drops.
Lucy’s dark eyes rounded at his touch, yet she didn’t move away. “Sorry. You were dripping.”
For the longest moment, they stared at each other as they stood beneath the branches of the tree, the rain falling around them like a curtain. Jack leaned forward slightly.
“We don’t want to go there, Jack,” Lucy murmured, her voice a shaky whisper.
He stepped back.
She was right. Again.
Jack gripped the reins in his hand and turned toward the house, thankful for the shadows and questioning his impulsive gesture. Questioning his sanity when Lucy Maxwell was around.
They walked in silence across the clearing, getting closer and closer to the two-story structure.
“Where did it come from?” he finally asked.
“Wh-what?”
“The house.”
“It’s mine.”
“You built a house that you never use?”
“I already said that.”
Did he detect annoyance in her voice?
“I don’t get it. What am I missing here?” Jack asked as they edged nearer to the property.
“What’s to get?” She shrugged. “Sometimes the boot drops, plans change and you move on.”
Something like nostalgia—or was it regret?—crossed Lucy’s face as she stared at the house.
Jack nodded, his gaze assessing the ranch director. This was all very odd. He’d get to the bottom of this house-in-the-woods mystery eventually.
“We’ll divide up into groups, and you’ll be sleeping on the floor in your sleeping bag,” Lucy continued.
“My own room?”
“Nice try.”
“And yet, there are no tent poles to deal with. No mosquitos biting or katydids to sing all night.” He stopped at a sudden thought. “I don’t suppose there’s cable and internet.”
“The ban on electronics is still in place. Our roughing it simply got a little less rough.” She looked at him, her eyes sparkling. “Wait until you see the fireplace in the great room. We can take turns roasting marshmallows tonight.”
“S’mores?”
“I never got to be a Girl Scout, but I do understand the importance of s’mores. The cook will have plenty of supplies.” She squirmed and scratched her arm.
“Poison ivy?”
“A touch.”
“I can go get the general. She’s not far behind.”
“No. I’m fine. No big deal.” She nodded toward the barn. “Come on. First things first. Head count, and then I need to get the horses settled for the night.”
“Is there feed in that barn?”
“Of course. Everything is ready for the animals. All part of Plan B.”
“How did you know we’d need one?” Jack asked.
“My life is an extended series of Plan B’s. I’ve learned to stay one step ahead of them.”
He frowned. “That’s too bad.”
“Is it?”
“You just said you live with a permanent worst-case-scenario agenda.”
She frowned for a moment and pursed her lips. “I like to think of myself as extremely well-prepared.”
“No. You’re a pessimist who plans for failure.”
“That’s neither true nor fair. You hardly know me. At least not well enough to judge me.” Lucy released a sigh. “I happen to be a very positive and optimistic person, unlike you, interviewing campers in your spare time, hoping to uncover some evil plot at Big Heart Ranch.”
“I’m being friendly.”
“Perhaps we can agree to disagree on this matter.”
“Sure. But I’m still right,” Jack murmured.
For long moments the only sound was Blaze’s soft snort and Grace’s whinny as rain continued to fall in silent sheets.
They crossed the gravel yard in front of the house and stopped outside the barn, where several riders and horses were already waiting. Lucy pulled back the metal slide bar and yanked open the big wooden double doors.
“Is there a light?” Jack asked.
“To your right. On the wall,” Lucy said.
He hit the switch, illuminating the huge barn. The place was as nice as the stables at Big Heart Ranch. Hooves clopped on the plank floors as young riders and volunteers led their horses into the dry building. The campers’ chatter echoed their relief. Jack also looked forward to getting out of wet clothes.
Lucy led her own horse into a stall at the far end of the barn, grabbed a towel from the stack on a shelf and began to briskly rub down Blaze. He followed suit and opened the stall next to hers. A towel and brush were ready on a shelf. He removed Grace’s tack, and carefully dried it and hung the saddle up to dry out. Grace whinnied and shook her head, sprinkling water everywhere.
“Grace,” Jack murmured. “You’re giving me a shower.” He inspected the horse and brushed down her silky flank.
Minutes later, Rue appeared outside Lucy’s stall. “I’ve done a head count. Everyone is accounted for and in one piece. We have three with poison ivy. I’m glad we’re at the lodge tonight.”
“The lodge?” Jack asked.
Rue smiled. “A nickname for the house.” She turned back to Lucy. “I’ll have the affected children shower first, and I’ll bag up their clothing.”
“Calamine and cortisone cream?” Lucy asked.
“Yes. We have plenty. And good thing—the poison ivy really is out of control this year.”
Lucy shook her head, a troubled expression on her face. “I should have had someone up here to spray the grounds before we came.”
“Lucy dear, you cannot possibly think of everything. When three children who were previously warned play in the poison ivy, you cannot blame yourself. Mother Nature will win every time.”
“Still. I’ll have the grounds sprayed before Travis brings his group out next Wednesday.”
“Of course you will.” Rue smiled and offered an indulgent nod. “We’re heading into the lodge then.”
“I’ll be along shortly,” Lucy said.
“Let someone else do the stall check,” Rue said as she pulled her hood up over her head again.
“I’ll sleep better if I do the job myself.”
Rue stared at her and silently shook her head. “Don’t take too long. You don’t want to miss the treats, or the hot water before it runs out.” The general led the line of boys and staff to the front door of the lodge, and they all disappeared inside.
Claiming Her Cowboy Page 8
