Chapter Twenty-Eight
Colton
"Come on, girl; help me find her," I said encouragingly to Whiskey.
The quarter horse whinnied in response, as if to say, "I'm trying."
We'd been riding all around the grounds of the ranch, searching for Bethany, but she was nowhere to be found. The engagement ring was in my pocket, and I couldn't wait to offer it to her and ask her to be my wife.
If she said yes, like I hoped she would, I would be the happiest man on earth. It wouldn't matter if we ended up losing the ranch because I would have the most important thing in the world: her love.
Of course, I would have to find her first and that was proving surprisingly difficult. I knew the grounds of this ranch better than anybody, but I couldn't find the blonde city girl no matter how hard I looked.
"Have you seen Bethany?" I called out to Mack as he returned from the fields on the back of his horse. It was end of the work day and he was ready to go home, or more likely the bar.
"Yeah. She was walking with Frank Hill on the path in the forest, headed out towards the river a little while ago," he answered back.
"Thanks," I shouted as I urged Whiskey into a gallop. We found the path and traveled along it, with Whiskey's hooves kicking up a faint trail of dust in her wake. After a while, the well-worn path came to fork, with the left side leading downhill to the river, and the right leading uphill to my favorite resting place.
I steered to the right, certain I knew exactly where Bethany was going. I pulled Whiskey to a stop under my favorite apple tree, but to my great disappointment, she wasn't there. I'd been sure she would be, and I wondered if maybe I didn't know her as well as I thought I did, after all.
Suddenly, I heard a scream in the distance. I knew that voice – it was Bethany!
"Come on!" I called to Whiskey and held on tightly to the reins as the horse galloped towards the sound. A million scenarios of what could have caused Bethany to scream like that flashed through my mind, each one worse than the one before.
Whiskey came to a halt at the edge of the grass where the ground ended abruptly. Her hooves skidded to a stop and I looked down over the edge at the treacherously steep hill that could easily be classified as a short cliff.
I looked down below and my heart leapt into my throat, nearly choking me. There was Bethany, standing by the river's edge with Frank Hill. He was clutching her arm with one hand and brandishing a gun with the other.
Anxious to help her, I urged Whiskey forward down the steep hill, but the stubborn horse refused to go. The hill was way too steep for her spindly legs, and she knew it. Damn it! How the hell was I going to get down there?
Frustrated, I knew I had to do something to rescue Bethany before Frank pulled that trigger and it was too late. In a loud voice, I shouted down the hill, "Let her go, Frank!"
Startled, Frank looked up at me and we made eye contact. I could see fear in his cold, blue eyes, but then they narrowed and I knew he was willing to hurt her if it meant he could save himself.
Bethany saw me, too, and a smile of relief curved her lips. Then I saw her look over at Frank, and she made a split-second decision that surprised and terrified me. She may be small, but she was tough and more courageous than anyone I knew.
While Frank was distracted by looking up at me, Bethany took the opportunity and stomped down her foot on top of his with all her might. At the same moment, she balled up her fist and punched him as hard as she could right in throat.
Frank's scream of pain was abruptly silenced as he gasped for breath and clutched at his throat, dropping his gun as he did so. The gun fell into the flowing river, and Bethany took off running into the cover of the forest.
I knew it wouldn't be long before Frank recovered. And when he did, he would go after her, bent on revenge. More desperate to help her than ever before, I turned Whiskey onto the trail leading down the hill, where I would eventually meet them by the river.
I urged Whiskey to gallop faster than she had ever gone before. I could feel her sides heaving as her hooves thundered against the ground. She wouldn't be able to keep up this pace for long, but I didn't care. I had to get to Bethany before Frank did, or he would kill her. I'd witnessed my father dead of a gunshot wound two years ago, and I was determined not to let the same thing happen to Bethany. Even if I had to sacrifice my own life, I would find a way to save her.