CHAPTER SIX
THE STORM CHARGED across the open plain like buffalo of old, a stampede of violence, of churning clouds and lightning. Darkness swept before it, enveloping them all. Horses stomped and screamed in panic. Men yelled, “Take cover! Take cover!”
For once, Glory didn’t plod. He took off. Holding the reins tightly, wrestling for control of the wildly careening wagon, Josie searched for anything that could be called cover. There was a copse of trees to the left. She steered for it. Behind her, she heard people shouting. She made out the word cover again. She slapped the reins on Glory’s back, but he was already going as fast as he could. Looking over her shoulder, she didn’t think it was fast enough. It was impossible to tell which way the storm was going. The clouds were odd, dense swirling demons, seething and spitting out lightning flashes. Even as she watched, a huge tube stretched down to the ground like a black tentacle reaching for hell. In the back of her mind she knew what she was looking at. She’d read about it in Dane Savage’s books. Luke had mention it earlier...
Tornado!
The reality was more terrifying than the legend. Tornadoes were giant funnels of wind and death that wrenched up everything in their path—people, buildings and trees—and chucked them out, sometimes miles away as they relentlessly ripped across the land. Lightning flashed again. And again. The storm was delineated in the strobing light. Her stomach clenched and dropped. It was coming right for her.
Oh God, she prayed, help me!
In an answer to her prayer, Luke rode up alongside, looking as wild as the storm on his big horse with the wind tearing through his hair. He yelled something she couldn’t hear. His hat flapped across his back. Leaning over, he slapped the reins on Glory’s flank. Glory tossed his head. Luke waved her on, pointing forward. Slapping the reins down again on Glory’s hindquarters, Josie whispered, “Hurry. Hurry!” Maybe she screamed it. Who could tell over the roaring wind? Inside, panic churned with the same violence.
The wagon clanked and bounced over the rutted ground, almost bucking her out of the seat. She no longer had control over the horse. Where they were headed, she didn’t know. Just away. Away from the storm.
Luke shouted again. The wind tore away the words. Chico stretched out his strong legs and drew even with Glory’s head. Luke reached down and grabbed the reins. He pulled to the right, away from the trees, toward barren land ahead. There was no cover there. They needed cover. Behind her, Josie could hear the tornado bearing down on them, sounding like a runaway train.
Releasing the reins, Luke dropped back until he was even with the far side of the wagon seat. Glory kept running. Josie watched as Luke held out his arm and beckoned with his fingers. For a wild moment she pretended not to know what he wanted. With a snap of his fingers, he pointed to the edge of the seat. The wagon bumped and careened. She inched over, expecting the wagon to tip or to be thrown out at any moment.
His lips shaped a word. Jump.
Was he crazy? Sane women didn’t jump out of wagons. The wagon hit another rut. She pulled back on the reins. Glory was past caring what she did. He raced on. Another rut tipped the wagon dangerously. Luke shouted something. She was pretty sure it was a curse. He snapped his fingers again and held out his arm.
Digging her nails into the wood, she took a breath. Jump. She had to jump.
This was insane. Why did she ever leave home? This time, when the wagon tilted, it almost went over. She had to grab on to the frame to keep from being pitched out. In that split second, she saw the rocks waiting to cushion her fall. She’d never survive.
Holding her breath, she looked up, straight into Luke’s eyes, seeing his confidence. This time his lips shaped the words Trust me. She didn’t have a choice. Clinging to his gaze like a lifeline, she waited. On the next bump, she used the momentum to launch herself up and out, arms spread, screaming and grasping.
It wasn’t a perfect job. And it wasn’t a perfect catch, but Luke caught her. The point of his knee collided painfully with her side. She clung with everything she had, and so did he. He said something she couldn’t hear. She couldn’t focus, the relief was too overpowering. He hauled her up. And this time she heard the words.
“I’ve got you.”
There were not three more beautiful words in the English language. Chico, whom she’d always thought of as a little flighty since he’d put on the display before they’d left, was as steady as a rock, pulling away from the wagon with rhythmic strides. She risked a glance back. The tornado stalked them like a devil gone wild.
Please God.
Luke’s grip shifted and his body turned as he hefted her behind him. “Put your leg over.”
Her skirts, sodden by the rain, wrapped around her calves, hampering her efforts, but he didn’t drop her as she struggled.
I’ve got you.
Yes he did. Putting her faith in that promise, she let go of his arm and hauled her skirts out of the way. Weak with relief, straddling the horse, she collapsed against his back, wrapping her arms around his waist. As soon as she did, another order whipped past her ear. “Hold on.”
She did, clinging for dear life, leaning over as he and the horse became one, powering across the land. Behind them, the demon howled. She lost sight of Glory in the hell. She hoped he was all right. She prayed he’d be all right. Please.
Something slammed into her back like a small fist. Another something grazed her thigh. A white ball whizzed past her face. Hail, she realized. It was hail, but bigger than any hail she’d ever seen. It hit the ground and bounced. It hit them too and seemed to bite into their bones. They had to find cover. Burying her head in Luke’s back, she clung to his waist. Why weren’t they headed to the trees? The trees would protect them.
Trust me.
Right now she didn’t have any choice. Luke was her only hope.
Lightning flashed. In the flash she saw the ravine.
“Watch out.”
Luke pried her arms from around his waist. “Jump.”
Was he crazy? “No!”
Without a word, Luke pivoted in the saddle, anchored her to his body, and threw them from the horse. There was a sensation of flying, a moment when up was down and then the illusion vanished. They hit the ground. Hard. Her teeth snapped together. Stars exploded behind her eyes. In the next instant, they rolled down the hill. Chico didn’t follow them down the ravine.
Hail hit with bruising force and thundered against the ground. So many strikes she lost count. She caught one brief glimpse of Glory silhouetted against lightning, still running, and then she saw the storm. It was a monster and it was almost upon them. “Luke!”
Grabbing her arm, Luke roughly shoved her up against the hollowed-out side of the ravine, forcing her flat on her stomach before throwing his body over hers, pressing so hard all she could breathe was dirt and him.
His hands came over hers, anchoring them into the ground. His lips brushed against her ear. “I’ve got you.”
The promise came out as a whisper, but she was sure it was meant to be a roar. This was crazy. They were going to die. Because of a summer storm. She didn’t even know what to do with that.
“I’ve got you,” he said again, his body her protection, his determination her lifeline. Hail bounced off the ground. It had to be bouncing off him. Now and again, he’d grunt.
The wind yanked at them greedily. She could feel her skirts whipping up between and around his legs. Her hat was long gone. Everything was backward. With a voracious hunger, the storm tried to suck them in. She felt Luke’s weight lift. Snaking her feet between his thighs, she hooked her feet over his calves and tensed her muscles.
No!
The demon couldn’t have him. Wrapping her fingers through his, she clung with her legs and hands, using her body as anchor. It was her turn to yell, “I’ve got you!”
It felt like hell as she and the storm fought for possession. The battle seemed to last for hours. In reality it was probably only a couple minutes. Her muscles burned with the effort. Then, just as suddenly as the chaos began, it was over. With an abruptness that left her gasping the wind died, its roar silenced, and the first few rays of the sun kissed their locked hands. She could only stare uncomprehendingly. Beyond their hands, hailstones glistened in the mud as they melted. They looked almost pretty.
She took a breath and then another. It was over. The storm was over. Oh dear God. It was finally over. She wanted to laugh. She turned her head, not caring about the dirt that ground into her cheek.
“We made it,” she whispered. They’d actually made it. Because of Luke. Through it all, he’d protected her. “Thank you.”
Luke didn’t respond. Her laughter faded. Something was wrong. The man never shut up. She pushed on his hands. Nothing. “So all it takes is a tornado to hush you up?”
Still no response. It took tremendous effort to unlock her fingers from his. She’d been holding on to him so tightly the muscles were cramped. Bracing her arms beneath her, she tried to come up on her knees but there was no moving him. This was not good.
Wiggling upward, inch by inch, she worked her way out from beneath him. The progress of his head down her back marked her success. She took her first break when his head settled between her shoulder blades, the second when it hit the middle of her back, the third when it hit the back of her thighs. By then she was sweating. She knew he was still unconscious when he didn’t say something smart.
Her heart stuck in her throat. She swallowed it back. Now was not the time to panic. Struggling to her feet, she turned.
No, now was the time to panic. Luke lay on the ground against the side of the ravine. A large tree lay across his back, its roots sticking up like a monster’s claw. He looked odd. She realized she’d never seen him without his hat. What an inane thing to notice. It was better, however, than looking at the bleeding gash on his forehead.
Kneeling beside him, she shook his shoulder. “Luke.”
Still he didn’t move. This close, she couldn’t ignore the scope of the gash. It was about three inches long and just laid his skull bare. She hoped the bone wasn’t crushed. Sliding her finger under his nose, she checked for breath. Please.
She’d done more praying today than she’d done in the last ten years. That probably wasn’t a good sign. She felt his breath. He was alive. She stood. She could work with that.
Hands on hips, she surveyed the situation. First things first—the tree had to move. Grabbing one of the branches, she yanked. It didn’t budge. She tried again, putting all her weight into it, but all she’d managed to do was work a couple branches deeper into the mud.
“Dammit!”
She had to think. Climbing out of the shallow ravine, she looked around. The copse of trees was gone. So was Glory and the wagon. She bit her lip. Maybe he’d survived. In the distance, she could see the tornado thundering on its way, clearly done with them. To the right, about thirty feet away, Chico stood, head up, ears flicking like another answer to a prayer. Chico could move that tree. Dusting off her hands, she headed for him. The closer she got, the more he tossed his head. When she got within six feet, he took a step back. She took another step. He took another one back. This wasn’t working. She grabbed for his reins. He jerked his head, keeping them just out of her reach. His eyes were wild and rolling in his head. He was scared. So was she. Taking a minute, she paused to regroup. There had to be a better way. She decided to try sweet talk.
“Don’t be scared,” she crooned, holding out her hand. “Don’t be scared. I’m not going to hurt you.”
He wasn’t appeased. With a toss of his head, he rejected her overture, and they were back to the game of cat and mouse until she wanted to throw up her hands in frustration. The stupid horse. Desperate, she whispered, “You can trust me, you know.”
Chico flicked his ears at her.
Flicking was better than running. “I need your cooperation.”
Chico just snorted and rolled his eyes, clearly prepared to run if she got ornery. She needed a new plan. “Fine. I’m just going to sit here until such time as you calm yourself, because obviously we’re not getting anywhere like this.”
And she did just that, sitting on the ground with her back to him. Reaching under her hip, she removed the stick that was poking at her. To her surprise, Chico didn’t run. In fact, he seemed to calm down.
She heard him take a step. She didn’t move. Didn’t look up. He took another.
“I’m not talking to you,” she told him. Another step, and air wafted by her shoulder.
“You’re as contrary as your owner.” His lips nibbled at her ear. She shrugged him away. “Nope, I’m mad at you.”
His head drooped over her shoulder. He clearly expected affection. “Now? After running my butt all over this darn plain, now you want pets?”
His wuffle said yes. Very carefully, she reached up and rubbed his nose. He snorted and stayed put. “I know. I was scared, too. But your owner saved us and now we have to save him.”
Very slowly, she eased her hand down his nose until she could grab the reins beneath his chin. She expected him to jerk and pull. He didn’t. “Don’t do anything crazy while I get to my feet.” She smoothed out her dress. “You have no idea what it’s like moving around in skirts.”
He looked at her with soft brown eyes, as if to say he understood.
“So here’s the deal,” she told Chico as she led him back to Luke. “I’m going to take this rope and tie one end to your saddle and the other to that tree and you’re going to walk that way.” She pointed. “And using all the muscle we’ve got, we’re going to pull this tree off Luke and then he will be okay because, because...”
She didn’t know what she was going do if he wasn’t. The catch to the matter was, she couldn’t hold on to the horse and tie the rope at the same time. Thank goodness for Dane Savage’s descriptions on how to ground tie Western trained horses. Wrapping the reins around a substantial branch, she walked back to Chico’s side. “Stay now.”
Chico just looked at her as if she were an idiot.
“Nobody asked your opinion,” she muttered.
Taking the rope, she tied the free end around the trunk of the tree, as tightly as she could.
When the last knot was done, she glanced at Chico. Chico looked back at her. “This is it. Now it’s up to you.”
Giving his hindquarters a wide berth, she untied the reins. Chico tossed his head. She patted his neck. “All you’ve got to do is move that tree. Just a little. Just enough for me to drag him out from under it.” She gave the reins a tug. Chico started walking, hit the resistance of the tree and stopped. She backed up, tugging on the reins. “Come on. You can do it.”
He could have spooked, he could have refused, but as if he understood the importance of his job, Chico put his head down and his shoulders into the job. “God bless your muscles,” she told him as the tree cracked and rolled. “Come on, big boy. We just need another foot.”
The horse gave her that foot. “Thank you.” Patting his neck, she wrapped the reins around a branch with a sigh of relief. “All right, stay here while I take care of things.”
Looking down at Luke, she wasn’t sure how she was going to live up to that statement. He was lying on his stomach, his head turned to the side. His legs looked straight, no odd angles. That had to be a good sign. The same for his arms. She didn’t know about his back. Blood darkened his hair. That she did know how to address. Removing the knife from his boot, she hacked at her skirt and petticoats to make bandages. Thank goodness for Dane Savage’s novels. Unlike other authors, he was willing to get into the gory details of life in the West. If he hadn’t, it probably never would have occurred to her to take strips of her clothing to make a bandage.
Fetching the canteen from Chico’s saddle, she moistened a strip of her petticoat before pouring water over the gash in his head. After cleaning the injury as best she could, she made a pad of another piece of petticoat and then tied a long strip from her dress around his head as a bandage. She sat back on her heels and wiped the sweat from her brow with her forearm. If it wasn’t so hot, maybe she wouldn’t feel like crying. Maybe she could think.
At least he was still breathing. Breathing was always a good sign. As she sat there, her own aches and bruises started making themselves known. Her right shoulder blade, where the hail had struck, twinged every time she moved. It’d be stiff before long. She couldn’t imagine how much Luke was hurting.
He’d thrown his body over hers to protect her from the hail. She brushed the hair off his cheek, smoothed it back over his brow, then arranged it over the bandage to give him a rakish look, because, well, it just suited him. There was something very untamed about Luke Bellen. Beneath those fine clothes, beneath those proper manners, there lurked a mountain lion.
Cupping his cheek in her hand, emotion overwhelmed her. Feelings of gratitude, of awe, of more, flowed through her hand. Closing her fingers on the sensation, she drew her hand back to her lap. Touching Luke created the most powerful sensations.
“Please, wake up,” she whispered.
“Why?” he rasped without opening his eyes, reaching for the bandage on his head. “You got a mean streak that needs indulging?”
She hadn’t realized how worried she’d been until she heard his voice. “I imagine you have a headache.”
He tried to sit up, groaned and flopped back down. “That’s an understatement. What happened?”
“A tree landed on you.”
He cracked his right eye opened. “Did anything major break?”
She bit her lip. “You might have broken your back or neck.”
“If I broke my neck I wouldn’t be breathing.”
“I don’t think that’s necessarily true. Back home, there was a man in town that got thrown from his horse. He broke his neck but didn’t know it. Nobody knew until that night at dinner. He turned his head, and then dropped. Dead,” she added in case he didn’t understand.
“Yeah, I get your point, but trust me. My neck’s not broken.”
She worried her lip with her teeth. She didn’t trust him. “Then why aren’t you moving?”
“Because I damn well hurt.”
“Oh.” That made perfect sense. A little of the tension left her shoulders. She really had to stop anticipating the worst when she started feeling happy. And she really should stop thinking there was no one she could trust when she started to feel free. Since coming to Hell’s Eight, she’d begun to feel like she was finally free to live as she’d dreamed. That was scary.
She patted his shoulder. “Take all the time you need.”
His thank-you was a bit sarcastic.
She didn’t care. The tornado was gone. They were alive. He could take forever if he wanted to.