“Hang on!” Bertha screeched and jerked the reins to the left.
Magda’s body slammed into the back of the seat she clung to, wrenching her wrists almost free of their sockets. Feeling herself losing her grip, they sailed in front of the thundering herd.
CHAPTER 38
Diego pointed beneath the wagon. “I left her right there, Cuddy. I told her to stay put.” He glared, fingers of rage tickling his throat. “You were supposed to watch her.”
“Don’t worry, brother. We’ll find her.” Though he tried to sound calm, Cuddy’s gaze darted around the campsite.
Sensing the fire, the horses tied nearby became restless, whinnying and pawing the ground. Diego’s mind went to Faron and he groaned. He hoped the mesquite branch had held him. He’d need a fast horse to take Emmy out of danger once he found her.
Smoke swirled into camp, burning their eyes and causing their noses to stream. Juan approached from behind, a handkerchief over his mouth. “This is loco, señores. We must go!”
Diego squeezed Cuddy’s shoulder. “Take these men to safety. I’ll meet you at the ranch.”
Cuddy shook his head, a determined glint in his eyes. “Forget it. I’m not leaving you.”
“Do like I say, Cuddy.”
He held up his hand. “Not today, amigo.” The set of his jaw dared Diego to argue. “This is my fault. Besides, I care about her, too, don’t forget.”
Diego gave in with a pat to Cuddy’s back. “Let’s go, then. I’ll head right. You go left.”
Cuddy nodded.
Benito clutched his sleeve. “And me?”
Diego lifted his chin at Juan and Carl. “Get these men out of here. When you make it to town, hand Carl over to the authorities.”
The seasoned vaquero turned a steely glare on Carl, cowering on the ground. “Sí, señor.”
Cuddy bolted away from him and disappeared in the smoky mist.
Diego ran toward a cluster of brush along the fringes of the clearing and crouched, his eyes scanning the scrub for any sign of movement. Remembering Emmy’s warning that Wayne had a knife, he wished he’d mentioned it to Cuddy. He could hear the witless boy crashing through the brush, shouting Emmy’s name.
Diego made his way along the rim, keeping low and out of the smoke. The last time he’d checked the fire’s progress, it had been close enough to seize his heart with fear, yet he found himself grateful for the light it provided.
He searched deep into the thorny branches of baby mesquite, as thick as corn pudding, and watched for rustling of the high grass in front. With the roar of the fire in his ears, urgency to find her overwhelmed him. In desperation, he shot to his feet and cried her name.
Emmy rose from the smoke, her body outlined from behind by a backdrop of fiery flames. The orange glow lit her flowing white curls and they danced with reflected light.
“You will find what you seek in the fire, Isi.”
His mother’s words burned in his heart brighter than the blazing field behind Emmy. He ran to meet her and pulled her close to the ground. “Honey, what were you thinking?” He wanted to shake her, but she looked already shaken.
Her eyes enormous, she lifted her chin to stare toward the camp. “I heard that boy calling Wayne. I couldn’t bear to see him.”
The dread in her quavering voice clenched Diego’s stomach. He took in her bedraggled hair, her torn clothes, and her fear and felt a swirling agony so intense it left him dizzy. He wanted to charge the brush, guns blazing. Instead, he touched her cheek. “Stay low, sweetheart. I’ll get you out of here.”
She watched with a blank expression as he tore a length of cloth from her hem and covered her mouth. Clutching her wrist, he pulled her along the ground toward the campsite.
Diego called Cuddy’s name, and he ran out of the smoke to help with Emmy. Benito and Juan had taken her horse and the horse that pulled the wagon, leaving only Cuddy’s terrified gelding behind.
Diego nudged Cuddy’s ribs. “Mount up.”
“What about you two?”
“Just pray Faron’s still where I left him.”
Without waiting for an answer, he took Emmy’s hand and ran. Following his own advice, he prayed to God with all his might that he’d find the stallion standing next to the mesquite. With the lightning, the stampede, and the fire, it seemed too big a miracle to expect.
Snatching the lantern that still burned, Cuddy rode alongside them until they neared the spot where Diego had tied the horse. His heart sank when the light from the brush fire revealed that Faron was gone.
“Now what?” Cuddy shouted.
Diego pulled Emmy toward Cuddy’s horse. “Come on. I’ll help you up.”
She dug in her heels. “What about you?”
“Don’t worry about me. Just get on the horse.”
“No, Diego!”
He was about to pick her up and forcibly seat her behind Cuddy when he heard Faron’s unmistakable whinny and whirled toward the sound. Faron stood ten feet away, pawing the ground.
Asking a prayer of forgiveness for doubting God’s power, Diego slowly approached the big horse and took up the reins. Emmy ran to him and he helped her mount then jumped up behind her and gave Faron his head.
Driving the horses in a mad rush, they raced along in front of the fire. Diego heard the rain before the first fat drops landed on his back. Cuddy whooped beside him and Diego tossed his head back and laughed. A hundred yards past the pounding rain, Diego called to Cuddy and they stopped. Pulling Emmy off behind him, he held her trembling shoulders and stared at her face in the light from the waning fire. “Relax, honey. You’re safe now.”
She still peered past him with darting eyes, and rage seared his heart. He caressed her face, as gentle as he’d been with Faron. “Did those men hurt you, Emmy?”
Looking away from his searching gaze, she wrapped her arms around his neck. Quiet sobs shook her body. “I’m so glad to see you.”
“I asked you a question. Did they hurt you?” He gently pushed her to arm’s length. “Wayne hurt you, didn’t he?”
Covering her face, she shook her head. “Not the way you mean, but he will, Diego. He swore it.”
Relief flooded his chest. “I won’t let him.”
Quivering with fright, she jumped at the sound of distant thunder, her restless eyes straining at the dark. “You don’t know what he’s capable of. He’s evil.”
***
Diego took her arms and shook her. “Emmy, look at me. You have to know I’m prepared to defend you with my life.”
Her gaze swung to him. Spoken with passion she’d never witnessed, the words rang in her head like the Rawsons’ dinner gong. He’d said them once before, with less fervor, on the day they’d met. Gazing into the depths of his ardent brown eyes, she knew he spoke the truth.
Letting go of her fear, she relaxed against him. “Your life for my safety is not a trade I’m willing to make, but hearing it makes me feel better.”
The drenching rain was over as fast as it had come, leaving sodden ground at their feet and Emmy’s hair a streaming mass of soaking curls.
Breathless, Cuddy appeared with a blanket to wrap around her shoulders. Bending down, he relit the lantern and set it near her feet. “This might help chase away the ghosts, Emily, but you don’t have to fret about Wayne. I found him when I was looking for you.”
She tensed, and Diego gathered her to his chest. “Did he give you any trouble?”
Cuddy raised his brows. “Not a bit.” He angled his head behind them. “Lightning got him. Along with about ten cows.”
Trembling, Emmy covered her face. “Oh, no. Oh, Diego.”
He held her while she cried, her thoughts racing. Despite all Wayne had done—and what he’d tried to do—no one deserved to die without a chance to make things right with God.
Diego tilted her dripping face. “I’m sorry all this happened, Emmy, but there is good news.”
She could think of only one thing Diego would consider good news
in the aftermath of such tragedy. Afraid to hope, her breath caught. “You found my parents?”
Smiling, he nodded. She fell against him, relief swelling her chest.
Cuddy’s shout echoed around them. “You found them?” He spun and slapped his leg. “I knew it! Where were they?”
Diego frowned. “Well, I—”
“I told you, didn’t I?” Cuddy continued. “The old man can’t pass up a good time.” He laughed rowdily. “¡Ay! Will he ever be in trouble with Mother! Death might’ve been better than facing her wrath.” He stood beaming foolishly at Diego.
Diego stared back with a drawn face.
Emmy nudged him. “Something’s wrong, isn’t it?”
Diego nodded.
She steeled herself. “Tell us.”
Sadness filled his eyes. “We haven’t found your father, Cuddy.”
Cuddy sobered and sank to the ground beside them. “What do you mean you haven’t found him?”
“He’s still missing. No one knows where he is.”
Diego turned from Cuddy’s blanched face to Emmy. “And, honey ... I’m afraid your father’s been hurt.”
A sick look on his face, Diego told them a sketchy story of what had happened. His careful attempt to be vague scared her worse than any details he might provide.
“Please, Diego. I need to go see my papa.”
“Of course.”
He turned to hold the stirrup for her, but Cuddy caught the back of his shirt. “Wait. You can’t go. We haven’t found my father yet.”
Diego shook loose from his grip. “I haven’t given up on finding him, and I won’t. We’ll take Emmy to the ranch then get right back on the road.”
“No.” Cuddy gave his head a determined shake. “Uh, uh. It’s not going to be like that.” He glanced at Emmy. “Sorry, sugar, but they found your old man. Mine’s still out there somewhere, and I’m not going home without him.”
“Cuddy”—Diego pled with his eyes—“use your head. I don’t have to tell you how I feel about your father, but we don’t even know where to look until we question the women.”
“You just saw the women. You didn’t ask them anything?”
“Mrs. Bloom said they last saw him two days ago along the river to El Indio. He took off to find a doctor for Mr. Dane. They didn’t say if he was headed to Carrizo, El Indio, or back to Eagle Pass.” He frowned. “And no, I didn’t ask. About that time I had to come rescue you.”
“All right.” The betrayed look in Cuddy’s eyes broke Diego’s heart. “Do what you must, brother. If you care to find me, I’ll be searching along the Rio Grande.”
He spun on his heel, but Emmy grabbed his sleeve and pulled him back. She searched his face with compassionate eyes. “You need sleep, Cuddy. You could use a hot meal and a bath, but you’ve slept less than any of us.” She touched his swollen cheek. “Unless you count the little nap you took, which means you’re piling fatigue on top of injury.” She shook her head. “I don’t see how you’re still upright. You won’t do your father any good in this condition.”
Diego dropped his hand on Cuddy’s shoulder. “She’s right, amigo. It wouldn’t hurt to have the doctor take a look at you.”
The wet grass snuffed the last of the flames at their backs as Diego draped his arm around Cuddy’s neck and led him to his horse. “We’ll leave the ranch first thing tomorrow morning, fresh, fed, and bandaged. I give you my word we won’t stop looking until we find him.”
***
The wagon roared across the leading edge of the cattle, clearing the last wild-eyed Hereford by the width of a wispy hair.
Bertha let the horses run a little farther then pulled them to a stop in the middle of the lane as the danger rumbled past behind them.
Magda, soaking wet and huddled on bruised knees between the seats, hauled herself up and limped to peer in the bed. “Willem? Please be all right. I’m coming, dear.”
Feeling a bit like an Olympic hurdler, she bailed over the backboard again and crouched beside her husband. Drowsiness gave his eyelids a swollen, heavy look, but he feebly reached for her hand. Though the rain had let up, Magda dug for a canvas bag and held it over his head to shield him.
Little Pete trotted up to them, his eyes wide with fear. “Very sorry, señoras. I did not hear them coming with your rig at my back. Is anyone hurt?”
Bertha twisted on the seat. “How’s Willem?”
“He woke up. For a few minutes at least.”
Bertha laughed gleefully. “Is that so?”
“Yes, but I think he’s out again.” Magda gently probed Willem’s face. “At least he’s alive.”
“Pete, I don’t reckon we’re hurt any worse than we were,” Bertha said. “But thanks for asking.” She nodded in the direction the cattle had gone. “Will them critters be all right?”
He shrugged. “They’ll run out of steam eventually.”
Magda studied the sky. Once the front started moving, it had galloped through like a racehorse. The only flashes of light were sporadic bursts to the west. “One thing we can be grateful for, when they ran out of here they took the worst of the storm with them.”
Pete lit a sputtering match, his face tight with concern in the flickering light. “If you want, I can take you to my friend now.”
“No, thanks,” Magda called out. “I want to get my husband to a doctor.”
“I agree,” Bertha said, her head bobbing. “As long as we don’t meet up with them Herefords coming back the other way.”
“Very well,” Pete said, backing his horse. “Turn the rig around, and I’ll take you to the ranch.”
Bertha goaded the weary horses into a tight circle. Back on the lane, they headed for the road. As they plodded into the turn, a sharp whistle came from behind them.
Pete returned the signal then gave a low laugh. “It’s Diego.”
Magda rose up on her knees and put her hands around her mouth. “Emily Bertha Dane!”
Silence followed. Then a voice tight with emotion carried on the brisk wind. “Mama! Is that you?”
“It’s me, baby!”
“Don’t you move! I’m coming!”
CHAPTER 39
Emmy opened her eyes, expecting to find her legs bound by a blue blanket with six girls lined up at her bedside. Only she wasn’t at the Campbells’ ranch, or even in her cheery room in Humble with the yellow wallpaper and lace curtains. She was in a bedroom at the Rawsons’ ranch beneath the lovely Redwork quilt, basking in the glow of the morning sun.
She stretched and turned over, wincing when the motion fired stinging needles of pain through her shoulder. Sitting up gingerly, she slid aside the delicate sleeve of her pink cotton nightshirt. Bile forced its way up her throat at the sight of four angry red scratches put there by Wayne’s dirty fingernails.
The shuddering remembrance brought others just as grim. The dread on Cuddy’s face when he’d broken the news of his father’s disappearance to his mother; the horror in Mrs. Rawson’s eyes before she collapsed in Cuddy’s arms; poor Greta, forgetting herself in her grief and clinging to Diego; and Emmy’s first look at the bloody wound on her bewildered papa’s head.
A gentle knock roused her from her thoughts. Grateful, she slipped on her robe and opened the door.
Mama stood there, her face pale and marred by weary lines. Still, she gathered Emmy in her arms and kissed the top of her head. “Good morning, sugar. I hope I didn’t wake you.”
Emmy rested her head on Mama’s ever-dependable shoulder. “I was awake. How’s Papa?”
Mama held her at arm’s length. “Still sleeping. The doctor said he’ll continue to drift in and out until the swelling goes down in his brain.”
The words heightened the pain building in Emmy’s chest. She pulled away to peer into her mother’s face. “How long will it take?”
“That remains to be seen in this type of accident. The doctor called it a closed skull injury. All along, I thought the stick hurt his head, but that turned out to be a sha
llow puncture. Your papa damaged his brain by the fall.”
“Will he be all right?”
Mama glanced away, and Emmy’s heart pounded. “Not overnight. He’ll need time to recover, and may have periods of forgetfulness.” She brightened. “With plenty of love and care, we’ll have him good as new in no time.”
Emmy stiffened. Pushing past her mama, she stalked to the patio door.
“Emmy?” Mama said after a moment of silence.
She couldn’t answer.
Determined footsteps approached from behind and her mama’s arms enveloped her. “What is it, lamb?”
“I—” Emmy sniffed and wiped her streaming nose on her sleeve. “I want to help Papa heal,” she sobbed, “but if love and care are what it takes then I can’t.”
Her mama took her shoulders and turned her around. “What do you mean, you can’t? You love him, don’t you?”
“Very much.” The wall inside Emmy fell. The rush of emotion Mama’s question roused stirred a mournful wail from her depths. “But he doesn’t love me!”
Reaching blindly, Emmy wrapped her arms around her mama’s neck and sobbed out years of pain and rejection. Mama held her, cooing quietly and rubbing her back. Spent, Emmy rested against her chest until the gulps and little catches in her breath subsided.
Leading her gently to the bed, Mama sat with her and picked up her hands. The familiar brown eyes studied her. “That’s what you think? That he doesn’t love you?”
Emmy glanced away. “I don’t want to think it, but how could he deal so harshly with someone he loves?” She lifted an accusing gaze. “He’s never harsh with you. I wouldn’t know Papa had a tender side if I hadn’t watched the two of you together.”
“Oh, honey, you’ve got it all wrong. He’s tender with me because he doesn’t have to share me.”
Emmy blinked. “What?”
Incredibly, Mama was smiling. “It’s not that he doesn’t love you. Your papa’s love for you knows no bounds. The truth is he’s jealous of your relationship with Nash.”
“Nash?” Emmy shook her head. “What does any of this have to do with Nash?”
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