Chapter 6

Dallas sat with his feet propped up against the wooden rail of his front porch. Underneath him, the old kitchen chair creaked as he leaned it back on two legs. He liked the rain. There was something peaceful about sitting outside and watching the rain.

He grabbed the bottle of Shiner at his feet and sipped long and deep. The pitter-pat of raindrops on the metal roof of his two-story house was calming. Unfortunately, it was also conducive to self-reflection, and man, did he ever not need that right now.

He was willing to admit that today with Rosie hadn’t gone well. In fact, it might be the all-time lowest of the low points in their relationship. How much worse could it get?

Short of running her over with his truck or accidentally shooting her with his hunting rifle, what could be worse than having her think he was a drooling weirdo?

He couldn’t think of a thing.

As long as he kept his truck and his rifle away from her, there was nowhere to go but up.

Come to think of it, did they even really have a relationship?

The rain picked up, and lightning stabbed across the horizon. It was only six, but the angry gray clouds were so thick, it was almost full dark.

Rosie Posy had walked into his life and turned it upside down. Not that he minded, but he sure would like to get to the part where they lived happily ever after. He could see their life together so clearly. Because she wasn’t a morning person, he’d get up and make breakfast so whenever she rolled out of bed it would be waiting for her. On second thought, he’d make breakfast and put it in the fridge before getting back in bed with her and waking her up properly.

He liked that version better.

When it came to Rosie, he had lots of fantasies—most of them involved her minus those tailored business suits she favored. He couldn’t help but smile. Yep, he’d love nothing more than peeling her out of that all-business navy-blue suit that matched her eyes she’d been wearing this morning.

Worth’s truck came splashing up the driveway.

Dallas took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He really wasn’t in the mood for company. He just wanted to sit on his porch, drink his beer, and watch the rain.

Worth rolled down the window and yelled something, but the storm was too loud. Like hell was Dallas walking out to Worth’s truck. What could possibly be so important that his brother had braved the storm?

Worth jumped out of the driver’s seat, slammed the door, and ran to the porch. “Why in the hell don’t you answer your damn phone?”

“What?” Dallas looked around for his phone, and not finding it, he felt around for it in his back pockets. It wasn’t there either. “I must have left it inside. What’s wrong?”

Worth was a lot of things, but alarmist wasn’t one of them.

Fear prickled the hairs at the back of Dallas’s neck. Something was wrong.

“Rosie’s missing. According to Hugh, she went to check on the cabins.” Worth pointed to his truck. “We need to find her, now.”

Dallas was on his feet as soon as he heard the word Rosie. He ran down the steps, barely registering the rain as he slipped behind the wheel. “I’ll drive.”

For once, Worth didn’t argue. He opened the passenger’s-side door and got in. “We checked the cabins, but… um…”

“What?” Dallas’s heart was beating so hard it was a wonder he didn’t have a stroke. Dallas had a bad feeling. Worth knew something he didn’t want to tell Dallas. “What!”

“It may be nothing… but one of the hands saw her Rover washing downstream.” Worth cleared his throat. “She wasn’t in it. It was upside down.”

Oh God. Oh Jesus. No. The last time the Guadalupe River had flooded, it had swept a dozen people downstream, killing nine of them. Rosie couldn’t be dead, she just wasn’t. He loved her and he hadn’t even told her.

He stomped on the gas, and the truck’s back tires spun before catching traction. He floored it in the direction of the cabins. “Did you check the cabins and teepees? Maybe she’s in one them waiting out the storm.”

Please God, let her be okay.

“Yes, we’ve checked every single building on this side of the river and we can’t find her—” His brother’s voice cracked. “Anywhere.”

“What about the Villa or the fire lookout?” They hadn’t checked everywhere. Rosie was smart and levelheaded. She was safe… she was safe… she was safe. Surely, if he repeated it a million times, it would make it true.

“I’m sure she’s fine.” Worth was going for soothing, but his voice was too frightened to pull it off. “She’s probably all warm and cozy next to a fire drinking a steaming mug of hot chocolate and waiting out the storm.”

“Yeah, uh huh.” Dallas knew Worth was doing his best to assure him that Rosie was okay, but he was making it worse.

“We’ll find her and all have a big laugh about it.” Worth’s voice shook with concern.

The world would be a much better place if his brother spontaneously went mute.

Dallas pulled onto the old two-track road that led down to the river. He parked next to his mother’s black Tahoe. Several trucks were clumped together, while everyone stood under the Lodge’s covered patio, huddled around some sort of map.

Why were they just standing around? Why weren’t they out looking for Rosie?

He jumped out of the truck and ran over to the Lodge. Everyone but Rosie was there—his mother and father, his brothers Cinco and Rowdy, Lefty, plus he counted ten other ranch hands all looking up at him.

His mother went over to him and put her arm around him. “She’s probably safe and waiting out the storm somewhere.” She tried to sound convincing, but it fell short. “I’m sure she’s fine.” It sounded like she was trying to make herself believe it.

“Where is her Rover?” Dallas needed to be all business now. He pushed all worry aside and went into crisis-handling mode.

Tiny, who was in fact the largest man Dallas had ever seen, raised his hand. “I saw it float by Lehman’s Gap a little over an hour ago.”

“Some other of them boys,” Lefty nodded to the ranch hands, “saw it pass by the bunkhouses a little bit after that. Son, just because they seen her car don’t mean she was in it.”

Lefty had been Dallas’s grandfather’s best friend, and after Grandpa Rose had died, Lefty had stepped in to fill the hole.

“Have all of the cabins been checked?” Dallas finger combed his hair. He had no idea what to do now.

“Yes.” His father put his hand on Dallas’s shoulder. “We’ve checked and double-checked and triple-checked.”

Dallas scanned the faces surrounding him. “Where’s Hugh?”

“He’s with Justus and CanDee and AG. They’re all at the cottage in case Rosie comes home.” Cinco nodded in the general direction of the cottage.

“Okay, that’s good. What did Hugh say exactly?” He needed to know everything.

“That she was headed to the teepees and cabins to check on them.” His father pulled him in for a hug.

“Besides the buildings, what has been checked? Has anyone walked up and down the riverbank? She might be hurt.” He didn’t want to think of her as hurt… or worse.

“We have men out doing that now.” His mother laced her fingers through his father’s. “Even if the rain lets up now, according to the National Weather Service and the Guadalupe-Blanco River Authority, the water might not crest until day after tomorrow. They’ve had so much rain upstream.” His mother sounded hopeless, and she never sounded hopeless.

“The water is higher than it’s ever been. That includes the 1998 flood.” His father left out the part that the 1998 flood had hit the hundred-year floodplain and was the worst flood recorded in Central Texas history.

“We have to do something. We can’t just stand around doing nothing.” All he needed was a flashlight, and he’d go find her himself. As soon as he found Rosie, he was buying her a satellite phone and supergluing it to her left hand. That way she’d always be in touch. “What about a helicopter and life flight or something? Doesn’t the coast guard have some sort of helicopter for things like this?”

He was grasping at straws, but they were all he had to hold onto.

“They’re triaging the calls.” His mother looked him square in the eye. “They aren’t taking on any search and rescue, only airlifting those that have been identified as needing help.”

Translation, they were only airlifting people they knew were alive, and not searching for those who were missing.

Why in the hell didn’t the Texas Rose Ranch have a helicopter? If he bought one, how fast could he have it delivered? He could rent a helicopter. There had to be one around here somewhere that he could rent.

“I think we need to face the facts…” His father pulled him in for another hug. “She was either swept away or she’s on the other side of the river.” Judging by his father’s tone, he thought it was door number one.

“Fine, it sounds like you have this side of the river covered. How do I get to the other side?” He wasn’t stopping until he found her. “There has to be a way across the river.”

He could drive to Roseville and cross the bridge, only there were three low-water crossings on the way. He turned to Cinco. “Didn’t one of our ancestors cross the river in a flood in 1900?”

“Are you talking about Dutch Gering during the flood of 1913?” Cinco’s eyes squinted up as he shook his head. “He died, and that’s why we call the place he tried to cross Gering Ford.”

Dallas snapped his fingers and pointed to Cinco. “Great idea. Gering Ford. It’s upstream a bit so the water’s probably shallower, plus it’s a ford, which is nature’s low-water crossing.”

As long as he had a plan, he wouldn’t think the worse. Every second they wasted, the river rose even higher.

“Son, you can’t cross Gering Ford. The water’s rushing too fast.” His father was always the voice of reason. “There isn’t a truck in the world that wouldn’t stall out, and that’s assuming the current didn’t take you.”

Worth stepped up. “What about on horseback?”

Everyone looked at Cinco, who spent a lot of time in the saddle and oversaw the horses.

He shook his head. “The current is too fast even for Back Strap.”

Back Strap was a Clydesdale.

“Am I correct in assuming that you’re going to do this no matter what we say?” His mother crossed her arms and managed to look down her nose at him, even though she was a good foot shorter than he was.

She knew him too well.

“Yes.” His family didn’t seem to have the sense of urgency he did.

“Since you’re likely going to kill yourself to get to her, we have to help you no matter how stupid the plan.” His mother huffed out a frustrated breath. “The zip line.”

“What zip line?” They didn’t have a zip line. When had they gotten a zip line?

His mother rolled her eyes. “The one you and Worth made in high school out of some old cabling and U-bolts so you could get your cases of beer to the other side of the river and stow them in the old icehouse.”

How had she known about that?

She shot him an I’m-all-knowing look.

“Think it will hold me?” Dallas chewed on his bottom lip, waiting for confirmation. It was a shot. Granted, it was terrible, but it was something.

“Yes, CanDee and I tried it last week, on the off chance it still worked and we could call it an amenity for our guests.” His mother was so matter-of-fact.

“Let me get this straight, you risked your life on some old piece of crap our son built over a decade ago?” His father looked pissed. The man rarely lost his temper, but when he did, it was good and lost. His father pointed to his mother. “We’re going to revisit this, but right now, do you think that zip line is strong enough to hold Dallas and withstand the wind and rain?”

“Yes, we played on it for several hours and it seemed sturdy.” Dallas’s mother seemed to wither a bit as his father glared at her.

“Just for the sake of argument, let’s say you do make it to the other side of the river. You still have at least a half-mile slog to the Villa through zero visibility. I was the Eagle Scout, remember?” Worth thumbed his chest. “You couldn’t use a compass if your life depended on it.” He paused for dramatic effect. “And it will depend on it.”

“He’s right.” Cinco stepped to Worth’s right. “Right now, we don’t know that Rosie is in danger, so going off half-cocked and putting yourself into real danger doesn’t make sense.”

“What if it were CanDee?” Dallas didn’t have time to argue his case. He needed to get to the zip line. He felt around in his pockets. Where had he put Worth’s keys? Were they still in the truck?

“If it were CanDee, I’d already be on that zip line.” Cinco reached around Lefty and picked up a backpack. “Justus and CanDee packed this just in case. There are a couple of flashlights and extra batteries. Justus knew you might go looking for Rosie at the Villa, so she packed some supplies for the two of you.”

Dallas grabbed the backpack and was in the truck before he had time to think about it.

“I’ll drive.” Worth practically threw him out of the way and slid behind the wheel.

Everyone else ran out to their respective vehicles.

Dallas died a thousand times in the five minutes it took to get to the zip line. The water lapped at the cypress tree with the metal cable wrapped around it. It was pitch black outside, and the wind howled like a banshee. Worth backed his truck up to the cypress.

Dallas was out of the truck and climbing into the bed so he could climb up to the zip line. By feeling around, he located the rickety wooden platform. A flashlight beam hit the platform, lighting it up. Other flashlight beams lit up the tree. His family was lighting the way.

He shrugged on the backpack, felt around for the wooden seat they’d used for the beer, and climbed onto it. It creaked under his weight, but it held.

“Once you’re on the other side, grab a flashlight and wave the beam up in the air so we know you’re safe. Then get to the highest ground possible and stay to the left. The icehouse is about halfway to the Villa.” Worth touched Dallas’s shoulder. “If you die, I’m going to be so pissed.”

“I’d hate to piss you off.” Dallas took a deep breath, reached over his head, and released the clamp.

As he flew through the air, the wind stabbed at him and rain sharper than shards of broken glass tore at his skin. A huge gust of wind nearly knocked him off the seat, but he righted himself at the last moment and managed to stay seated. The cable jangled back and forth, slowing his progress. He got halfway over the river and stopped. He couldn’t see a thing, so he got his legs under him and knelt on the seat. He felt around. Tree leaves were caught in the trolley mechanism. He pulled a handful out and swung his body weight back and then forward, trying to gain some momentum. The seat didn’t move. He was stuck.

With no other option, he reached up with both hands, curled one leg around the cable and then the other. He inched his way across the river, battling the fierce wind shaking the cable. About five feet from the shore, he felt the cable give way, and he hung on for all he was worth. The cable ripped in half, and he took a nosedive into the water.

Cold water rushed at him from all sides, but he held on tight. He wheezed in gulps of air as the backpack pulled him down. He couldn’t shrug out of it because then he’d have to let go of the line. Water sucked him down, so he kicked his booted feet like his life depended on it.

Inch by inch, he pulled himself to the bank and crawled out of the water. He threw off the backpack, pulled out a zip-top plastic bag, and grabbed a dry flashlight. Whoever’d had the presence of mind to wrap everything in watertight bags had just moved up to the top of his Christmas list.

He flicked on the flashlight and waved it back and forth. The beam of light barely broke through the cutting rain. He hoped they could see it on the other side of the river.

He closed the pack and stuffed his arms through the straps. He rolled onto his knees and used a nearby tree to stand. White-hot pain shot up from his left ankle. He doubled over, but quickly righted himself. He had a half-mile trek through a watery hell, his ankle be damned.

Rain slashed at Dallas’s face as he limped to higher ground. The flashlight beam only cut through a foot of the path in front of him. The wind howled like a commercial plane taking off as it did its best to knock him over. His left ankle was sprained, or maybe even broken, and every step sent a bolt of pain up his leg, but he’d made it this far and he wasn’t about to give up.

Rosie Posy, I’m coming for you.