Chasing the Sun (28 page)

Jack pushed her hands aside. “I’ll do that. Put a jacket on Kate. We need to be across the bridge before the water rises.”

Daisy looked up at the sky, which seemed to have grown darker within the last few moments. “Why would it rise? It’s not even raining.”

“It is up there.” Jack nodded toward the slope rising behind them. “And it’ll be running downhill fast. Hurry.”

Daisy had just finished fastening Kate’s coat when cold, heavy drops slapped the ground around them, driven almost horizontal by the gusting wind.

Jack picked up Kate and Kitty, tucking them tight against his chest. “Leave the pouch,” he called, the wind snatching his words away. “Come on. Now.”

Fully alarmed, Daisy slipped and slid after him down the rain-slicked trail. Already the footing was treacherous, and Daisy’s wet skirts clung to her legs, making it hard to balance in the howling wind. Before they’d gone a hundred yards, water was running down the path between their feet, cutting deep grooves in the sandy soil.

The suddenness and ferocity of the storm appalled Daisy. Had it been only five minutes ago that the sun was shining? Lightning flashed, almost blinding her. Then a deafening boom of thunder. Out of reflex she ducked, half expecting one of the trees whipping back and forth overhead to explode in flames, or a limb to come crashing down on her head.

“Maybe we should stop until it blows over,” she yelled at Jack’s retreating back.

“Can’t,” Jack shouted back. “If we don’t cross now, we could be stranded on this side without food or shelter for days.”

Daisy stumbled doggedly on, trying to ignore the cold rain stinging her face and seeping under her collar. It was coming down so hard and fast now she could scarcely see Jack’s hunched form only a few yards ahead. Water rushed over the laces of her walking boots, and all around them limbs snapped and trees groaned against the onslaught of wind. Above the thunderous deluge she heard Kate crying.

Then the icy rain turned to hard pellets of hail.

Sixteen

IT WAS LATE AFTERNOON AND HANK WAS WORKING ON HIS calculations of how many square feet of sail it would take to move a five-hundred-pound railcar along a track at ten miles per hour when Brady threw open the door to his office.

“Where are Jack and Daisy?”

Hank continued to scribble. “Haven’t seen them. Why?”

When there was no response, he looked up to find his brother still standing in the doorway of his office, his gaze fixed on the window.

Curious, Hank turned. His jaw dropped in astonishment.

Dark thunderheads boiled out of the west, racing down the valley ahead of a hard, driving rain. Lightning bounced between the clouds. Thunder rumbled. A sudden gust drove grit pinging against the windows and sent the branches of the mesquite tree on the hilltop behind the house into a thrashing frenzy. As Hank watched, a limb snapped off and crashed against a grave marker so hard the stone toppled over. Another flash, then a blast of thunder so loud it made him flinch. An instant later the skies opened, dumping hailstones the size of elk droppings that clattered across the porch floor to bounce against the panes of the French door like crazed white bees.

“Sweet Jesus,” Hank muttered, rising to his feet. “Where’d that come from?” And why hadn’t he been aware of it?

“Did they go for a hike?” Brady demanded. “Are they still out there?”

“I don’t know.”

“Christ.” His brother ducked into the hall.

Hank went after him.

“Check the barn,” Brady ordered as he took the stairs three treads at a time. “I’ll see if Jessica knows where they are.”

A few minutes later, soaking wet, his black hair plastered to his head, Brady rushed into the barn. “Did you find them?” he asked, dumping an armful of slickers and dusters into the straw.

Hank shook his head and turned back to the horse he’d been readying, just in case. In other stalls, other men were doing the same.

“Damnit to hell!” Freeing a duster from the heap, Brady struggled to pull the oiled canvas over his wet jacket. “They’re out there somewhere. I know it.”

Lightning bolted from the sky. Thin bars of light flashed through the gaps between the planks of the exterior walls, then thunder boomed, making the horse lunge and snort, white showing in its eyes. The air crackled and buzzed.

Murmuring softly, Hank calmed the frightened sorrel then tossed the saddle onto its back. With brisk movements, he slipped the girth strap through the D-ring, pulled it tight, and secured the dangling end. After tugging on his own duster, he rolled the remaining jackets in a slicker and tied it across the back of the saddle.

As he worked, the part of his mind not churning with worry stayed alert to his surroundings—the distant sounds of men saddling up, the clink of bits and stomp of restless horses, the frightened mewl of a barn cat. He checked the air for smoke in case the lightning had set something ablaze, but smelled none.

Overhead, the loft door crashed open, then banged on its hinges until finally it slammed shut so hard the timbers shuddered. In the near darkness, the air grew still and thick with the smell of alfalfa and manure and wet horses. But outside, the storm raged and hail hammered the roof and the wind howled like a wounded cougar.

It’s just a spring storm
, Hank told himself.
It’ll pass soon
.
They’ll be fine.

“Jessica said they went on a picnic,” Brady shouted as he fumbled with a strip of rawhide he’d looped over the crown of his Stetson and under his chin to keep his hat from blowing off. “Why would they go on a picnic? Didn’t he see there was a storm coming?”

Hank didn’t argue with him, knowing his brother’s bluster was a cover for his fear. Anyone familiar with this country knew these mountains could spawn thunderstorms in a moment’s notice. Jack wasn’t a fool. He might not see a storm coming, but he wouldn’t go into the mountains unprepared in case one arose. Especially with his daughter.

He handed the reins of the sorrel to Brady then untied the bay gelding he’d saddled first and left hitched to a stall door. “Kate with them?” he asked as he stepped into the stirrup and threw a leg over.

“Hell, yes. How could he go wandering off like that?”

“He’s not stupid, Brady. He’ll know what to do.”

Brady spun toward him. “No, he’ll try to outrun it, goddamnit. He’ll take chances like he always does.” His face grim with worry, Brady swung into the saddle. Turning to the other men leading saddled horses from the stalls, he shouted orders above the rattle and roar of the storm buffeting the walls.

“Go in twos. Check along the creek first. If there’s lightning, dismount and find low ground. Fire two rounds if you find him, three if you’re in trouble or need us to come. Be back by dark.”

At his signal, two boys ran forward to wrestle open the barn doors. Wind roared into their faces as they rode out into a lashing torrent of rain and hail under a sky that had turned twilight dark.

DAISY WAS GROWING FRANTIC. THEN AS QUICKLY AS IT had begun, the deluge ended. An eerie stillness descended, magnified by the sudden absence of howling wind and clattering hail. Lightning still flashed and thunder rumbled, but growing more distant as the storm moved down the valley toward the eastern peaks. Above the wind-battered trees, the clouds thinned then broke apart here and there, showing patches of blue sky tinted pink by the setting sun.

She sagged in relief, not realizing how frightened she had been until the crisis was over. “Is it past then?” she called ahead to Jack, who hadn’t slowed his pace down the trail.

“The first squall is. But more’s coming.”

She looked up and quailed to see another dark band of thunderheads racing toward them out of the west, bursts of light streaking between the clouds.

“Hurry, Daisy. We’re still a long way from the bridge.”

Skirting fallen twigs and branches, she worked her way down the slippery trail and over deepening ruts as water continued to pour down the steep slopes. She started to shiver, her wet jacket and skirts cold against her skin, her waterlogged boots rubbing raw spots on her chilled feet. Thankfully, Kate had stopped crying, so Jack must have been able to keep her dry.

It began to rain again, but with less wind this time and the lightning stayed far down the valley. But the runoff continued to cut into the ground beneath their feet.

It seemed an eternity before they reached the bridge. Daisy almost wept in gratitude to see it still standing, even though the creek had risen to the cross struts and was now a swirling, foamy cauldron of debris and broken tree limbs. She had no doubt that within minutes it would be lapping at their feet.

“Hurry,” Jack called, waving her on. “It’s coming up fast.”

Eyeing the water churning around the rocks at the base of the abutment that supported the huge spanner logs, Daisy skidded down the last few feet and onto the bridge. It shuddered under her, buffeted by rushing water, the planks slick with wet pine needles. A broken limb slammed into a support, almost knocking her off balance, but she managed to stay upright and keep moving after Jack.

They were halfway across when she heard a crack as loud as a pistol report. Clinging to the railing, she looked back to see one of the spanner logs separating from the abutment. The downstream side of the bridge began to sag.

She cried out, grappling for a handhold as her feet slipped across the planks toward the icy water.

Jack’s hand clamped over her arm and jerked her back. “Take Kate!” Thrusting the terrified child into her arms, he shoved them both past him toward the far side of the creek. “Run!”

“Titty!” Kate shrieked, straining to reach the waterlogged toy that had fallen to the planks.

“I’ll get it!” Jack shouted behind her. “Just go!”

On the bank they had just left, a rope gave way and a shattered timber shot into the air like a broken twig. More ropes snapped and twanged, slapping the water like angry snakes.

“Run!”

Daisy tried, but the bridge bucked and contorted beneath her feet like a wild thing, making her stagger and reel for balance. Over Kate’s wails, she heard Jack pounding behind her, urging her to go faster.

The embankment loomed ahead. She was almost there. Battling to keep her footing, she lurched toward it, Kate thrashing in her arms. She heard Jack curse and looked back. He was several yards behind her, tugging at his leg, trying to free his foot where it had crashed through and gotten caught on a splintered plank.

“Jack!” she yelled.

When he saw her starting back toward him, he frantically waved both hands. “No! Keep going! There’s no time!” He pointed upstream.

Daisy looked, saw a huge uprooted tree bearing down on them, its twisted limbs flailing like a demon’s arms. “Jack—”

“No!” His face suddenly white with fear beneath his rain-plastered hair, he waved her on. “No, Daisy! Go on! RUN!”

Holding her daughter tight against her thundering heart, Daisy ran.

With a deafening roar, the tree slammed into the supports, the impact almost lifting her off her feet. Timbers groaned and twisted. Metal spikes shrieked as they sheared off. She scrambled on, the planks sinking lower with every step. Water washed over her boots and pinned her wet skirts around her ankles.

The ropes tying the logs to the abutment in front of her began to unravel with a high-pitched whine. A huge chunk of the embankment broke off, leaving a crumbling wall of wet earth and exposed roots. With a loud crack, the last rope gave way and the huge spanner logs began to roll off the side of the abutment.

In blind terror, Daisy pinned Kate tight against her chest and jumped.

She seemed to hang in the air forever. Then her feet slammed onto the steep wall of the bank. Earth rained down. She started to slide backward.

Clawing for a handhold with her free hand, she found an exposed tree root and clung to it until she regained her footing. Shielding Kate as best she could, she clambered up the muddy bank, grasping at rocks and roots to pull them up.

Once clear, she fell to her knees, gasping for air. With shaking hands she checked to see if Kate was all right.

Mud-spattered and terrified. But safe.

Fighting tears and laughter, Daisy rocked her wailing daughter in her trembling arms, chanting her name over and over and thanking God that they had made it.

When that short rush of terror and relief had passed, she gathered what courage she had left and made herself look back toward the water.

The uprooted tree was gone. The bridge was gone.

Jack was nowhere in sight.

HANK RODE HUNCHED AGAINST THE RAIN, FOLLOWING A muddy trail that ran parallel to the flooded creek. Brady searched farther up in the trees in case Jack and Daisy had made it to higher ground and were hunkered down out of the wind.

It was slow going over ground littered with toppled trees and broken branches. The trail was six inches of sucking mud that pulled at the horse’s hooves with every labored step, and the light was starting to fade.

Hank seethed with impatience.

They had started the search at the bridge, which was now no more than a few pieces of splintered timbers spinning in a foamy backwash. Only the half-submerged log and rock abutments remained to mark the place where the structure had been, and they would probably wash away soon too. That was two hours ago.