Chapter Eighteen

Nick

He woke to the sound of Cora’s cry. In an instant, he was on his feet, bolting from the room. He crossed the upstairs to Justine’s room and found Cora. She stood in the doorway, staring at the bed.

“Justine’s gone.”

The bed was empty. Justine had slept in the bed. That much was clear. The rumpled blankets offered evidence that the girl had spent the night in her bed, but in the first light of dawn, it was clear she was gone.

The bedding was cool to his touch. She’d been gone sometime. The terror on Cora’s face made his heart squeeze with pain. Her eyes were wild with fear. Her chest rose and fell with rapid, panicked breaths.

“Maybe she’s downstairs.”

Cora pointed to the corner of the room. “Her boots are missing. She left the house.”

Nick couldn’t bring himself to accept her words. Justine wouldn’t leave the house. Surely. He thought of Henry. Had she left to play a prank on the boy?

He dressed quickly. Cora stood in the doorway watching with eyes that shone in the first rays or morning.

“I’ll look around outside. Maybe Henry knows something.”

Nick knew without a doubt that if Henry knew of Justine’s wanderings, the boy would have come to him immediately. Henry always sought ways to ingratiate himself to both him and Cora. Not that he needed to. Nick told him time and again that the boy was an enormous help to him.

He left the house and jogged across the barnyard to the small cabin. Almost the instant he knocked on the door, Henry appeared, dressed and ready to start work.

“What’s wrong?” he asked without preliminaries.

“We can’t find Justine.”

The boy paled. He shook his head as his confusion clouded his eyes. “What do you mean you can’t find her?”

“She’s not in her bed.”

Henry flinched. “Damn. I haven’t seen her. I’ll help you look.”

Nick and Henry spent the next hour searching the barns and corrals and outbuildings. They went to each shed and called her name. They opened stall doors on the chance she’d gotten locked in with a horse. Then they returned to the house and looked through every room upstairs and down.

“I’ve looked everywhere,” Cora said, her face stained with tears.

“I’ll saddle up and search the pastures,” Henry said, quietly. “Maybe she’s out looking for some little critter to bring home.”

Nick went to Cora and wrapped her in his arms. She sank against him as he stroked her back. He pulled away and lifted her chin. “It will be all right, Cora. She’s around. I’m sure of it. I’m going to go with Henry and we’ll bring her back home.”

He kissed her on the forehead and left. Inside the barn, he and Henry worked quickly. By the time the sun had risen over the horizon, they were mounted. Henry rode his ancient gelding and Nick rode Halston.

“I shouldn’t have teased her about the violin playing,” Henry said. “I wish I hadn’t.”

The sadness in the boy’s tone caught Nick by surprise. Henry’s shoulders slumped. He curled his hand into a fist and hit his saddle horn with frustration.

“Quit blaming yourself. That girl’s not going to run off just because you gave her a little grief. She’s tough as any boy I know.”

Henry shook his head. “Still…”

Nick couldn’t think of how to reassure the boy. Henry had lost so much over the last month. He’d witnessed his father’s death. Then his half-siblings were carted away by their uppity family, the same folks who explained in no uncertain terms that Henry wasn’t welcome to come with them. He looked like he wanted to cry.

Nick felt a wave of irritation with Justine. Gritting his teeth, he consoled himself by thinking of unpleasant tasks he’d give the girl when he found her. He’d make damned certain she didn’t wander off again, looking for bunnies or squirrels or whatever the hell critter she’d gotten in her stubborn mind.

“Henry, everything’s going to be fine,” Nick said gruffly. “Justine’s scrappy and smart. She might not have any sense, wanting to collect animals like some folks collect books or china plates, but she’s got a good head on her shoulders. She’s nearby.”

They searched the nearest fields first, riding past the herd he intended to take to Fort Worth in a month’s time and beyond to the wilder pastures where he kept the heifers. The final fields held the bulls. His breath hitched as he opened the gate. He scanned the horizon, praying he wouldn’t see her anywhere near the enormous animals. Henry regarded the bulls, his eyes etched with worry.

“She wouldn’t have wandered this far,” Nick said. “But it’s best we look everywhere. We’ll double back along the river.”

Henry’s eyes widened. “She know how to swim?”

Nick gritted his teeth, recalling the strength of the water’s current. The river had swept Cora away like she was no more than a ragdoll. Justine was even slighter than Cora.

“She knows how to swim,” Nick said. “Or that’s what she told Cora.”

They trotted down the hillside. When the river came into view, both men muttered in dismay. The water tore past, the roiling waters barely contained by the banks.

Nick glanced at Henry. The boy’s face was bloodless.

“I never told her about fish,” Henry said. “Swear to God.”

Halston nibbled a few leaves of a nearby branch, and ate them contentedly as they walked the trail.

“Halston doesn’t think she came to the river,” Nick said.

A slow grin spread over Henry’s face. “That so?”

“That’s so. This old boy’s found more lost animals than you can shake a stick at.”

Henry scoffed. “If you say so.”

“Not everyone can have as fine a horse as this one. No need to be jealous, Henry. That nag you’re riding is older than dirt.”

They rode along the narrow path that ran along the river. The noise of the rapids made it near impossible to talk more than a few words here and there. When the water ran smooth and more quietly, Nick offered more insulting commentary. The boy grinned and shook his head.

“Son, if you’re working for me, you’ll need a decent mount. That’s the first thing we’ll do. Get you a horse that won’t drop dead underneath you. And one that doesn’t hurt a man’s eyes to look at.”

Nick kept the conversation light as they rode the riverbank. He spoke casually, but kept his intense gaze fixed on the rock outcropping lining the river, and he knew that Henry, riding behind him, did the same.