Dorothy Garlock (10 page)

For the briefest of moments, it seemed to Hallie that Mary would accept her offer, but then another round of lightning and thunder exploded around them and all Hallie’s hope vanished. Mary’s mood changed. Stepping closer to the edge of the raging river, she said, “If I ain’t around, maybe the two of you’ll be safe.”

“Don’t do it, Mary! Please! For the love—”

Before Hallie could say another word or even take a step toward her friend, Mary walked into the dark water and was gone. The force of the swift current grabbed hold and pulled her in, tossing her about as if she were nothing more than a toy in a tornado.

Hallie screamed, “Mary!” She dashed along the riverbank, mindful of her footing, yet desperate to keep Mary in sight. She watched in horror as the woman’s head bobbed once or twice on the brackish surface before the river’s flow pulled her into the dark night and she was lost. Through it all, Hallie never heard her utter a single cry for help.

Mary was gone!

Chapter Nine

E
LI STOOD IN
the saddle, peering out into the depths of the storm. All around him, thick sheets of rain came down from the dark clouds churning above. Water poured off the brim of his hat, further blocking his vision. His mood was as miserable as the weather; he was soaked to the bone, and he grumbled with the same deep base as the thunder.

“Wallach should be out here with us,” he growled.

Hank chuckled beside his nephew. As another long tongue of lightning shot across the sky, he gave his buckskin horse a reassuring pat on its thick neck. “You know as well as I do that that boy couldn’t find his ass if he was usin’ both hands,” he said. “If he’d come out here with us, we’d have ended up searchin’ for him.”

“Then what the hell good is he?”

“Wallach ain’t too bright, but I ain’t never seen no one that could shoe a horse or handle a brandin’ iron any better than him,” Hank explained. “Replacin’ him wouldn’t be no simple matter—that’s the honest truth.”

“Too bad he hasn’t enough brains to keep the gate shut!”

“Yeah, it’s a mite too bad,” Hank echoed with a noncommittal shrug.

Eli grunted in anger. As the summer storm descended upon the Morgan family ranch, all the hands, himself included, went about latching the doors, buttoning down every window, and securing the animals. Strong weather was a common occurrence and their precautions had become routine. As he watched the dark clouds billow ever closer, he felt that they would ride the storm out with little damage.

With the coming of the crackling lightning and echoing thunder splitting the sky, several of the cattle became spooked and burst forth from an unlocked pen; three head were unaccounted for. By the time the loss was discovered, hours had passed, but the gale still raged on in all of its fury. It had been Tom Wallach’s responsibility to make sure that the gates were locked. Even though Eli had wanted nothing more than to punch the man squarely in the jaw, he and Hank grabbed a pair of mounts and sped off after their missing property. They’d been at it for over an hour but had yet to find a single head.

“They couldn’t have gotten this far from the ranch,” Eli observed. Their search had brought them to the north edge of their land, a gently sloping valley of elms and maples and abundant game, all of it laced by the Cummings River.

“If it weren’t for this storm, I’d agree with you,” Hank said, spitting a wad of tobacco onto the muddy ground. “But they’ll keep movin’ like all the thunder and lightning was on their tail!”

“Could they have gone farther down the valley?”

“Probably,” the old rancher mused, rubbing a hand over his stubble-covered chin. “My guess is they’ll keep right on runnin’ until somethin’ stops ’em, and the only thing in these parts that’ll do that is the river.”

“Then let’s go take a look. Maybe we’ll get lucky.” With a sharp snap of his horse’s reins, Eli sped off down the hill, with Hank right behind him, mud flying from their mounts’ hooves.

As much as he grumbled about being out in the storm, there was a part of Eli that wouldn’t have chosen to be anywhere else. In the two weeks since he’d returned, he found that life back on the ranch was as comfortable to slip back into as an old warm coat. Even though he and his mother were no closer to breaking the thick distrust between them, and he still hadn’t managed to get used to Abe’s transformation, he rediscovered his love for the hard work that had filled his younger years. Spending the days alongside Hank had its own reward; nearly every evening, after another day of sweaty work, they hunkered down on the long porch, shared a smoke and a drink, and talked long into the night.

Still, the matter of Caleb’s death dogged him, tugging at the back of his mind. It was hard for him to be back home among the familiar sights and sounds, all the memories of a youth shared with his two brothers. He kept expecting to see Caleb’s bright smile and hear his quick laugh. He felt the bitter sting of loss all over again. Soon, he knew he would have to go to town and start asking questions, to try to learn what had actually happened.

But not now . . . now I have to find those damn steers!

Strong gusts of wind tugged insistently at his coat, and Eli scanned the ground as his horse rode hard into the storm’s teeth. Even with the intermittent flashes of lightning, it was hard to see much of anything. Hope occasionally rose in his chest when he glimpsed a shadow here and there, but closer inspection revealed them to be nothing more than a large bush, a solitary rock, or simply a trick of the night.

“It they were struck by lightning, we could at least butcher them—if we could find their carcasses, that is,” he said over his shoulder.

“Let’s go on down the valley,” Hank said and led the way.

They rode the valley’s slope until the ground began to level. Tall clumps of trees were lit by the lightning flashes, their boughs bent and swaying in the wind and rain. Slowly, a roaring noise made itself heard over the wind, growing louder as they trotted along.

“That’ll be the Cummings,” Eli said.

“Probably as plump and overflowin’ as a fat lady’s bosom.” Hank whistled. “If’n any of them cattle made it this far, there’s as good a chance as any that that’ll be where we’ll find ’em.”

As they approached the river, the noise of the rushing water became deafening. Eli guided his horse to a small rise that had an unobstructed view of the Cummings River between two large clumps of oak trees and brought the animal to a halt, his uncle alongside.

“Would you look at that.” Hank nodded. “Angrier than a hornet’s nest.”

“I don’t know if I’ve ever seen hornets
that
angry.”

Normally a calm river laced with a bounty of fish, its cool, clear blue waters inviting and fresh, the Cummings was now as ominous as the storm that had riled it to a frenzy. Amid the whipping wind and heavy rain, Eli couldn’t see all the way across its swollen breadth, but he knew that the whole river was in turmoil; frothy peaks of brackish water were crashing together, pulling anything that they could reach into the river’s fatal grasp.

If anything were to fall in . . .

Eli frowned. “Let’s hope that none of those cattle managed to make it this far, ’cause if they did, they’re as good as dead. All it’d take was one bad step and they’d be miles downstream before they knew what happened.”

“Then let’s hope they ain’t as dumb as the fella that forgot to lock their pen,” Hank said. With a click of his tongue, he prodded his horse forward, talking over his shoulder. “It won’t hurt us to walk up and down this here shore for a bit to find out.”

For the next half hour, the two ranchers rode along the riverbank, ever mindful of where their horses stepped. For as far as the storm would allow him to see, Eli looked into every crevice; peered behind every upturned tree; and hoped for some sign, some movement, to reveal the missing cattle. He was just about to suggest that they give up when something up ahead caught his attention.

At first, he thought it was yet another trick of the lightning, showing a dark shape that became a boulder or a bush under closer inspection.
But this was different . . .
Near the waterline, far closer than he would have ventured, there appeared to be some
one
. As he stared through the inky darkness, waiting to see if he wasn’t just imagining things, he saw the person stumble and fall to the ground, then rise slowly on shaky legs. Eli’s heart pounded hard against his ribs as his heels dug into his horse’s flanks.

“Come on!” he shouted to his uncle before charging down to the figure.

Bringing the horse to a quick stop, he sprang out of the saddle, held steady in the muddy ground, and was beside the figure.
He could hardly believe his eyes.
It was a woman, her face and upper body caked dark with grime, her eyes wide as saucers in the scant light of the storm. Her clothes stuck to her tenaciously. When she took sight of him, her small body flinched, recoiling as if with shock.

“Miss?” he asked tentatively. “Miss? Are you all right? What are you doin’ out here in the storm?”

She seemed to take him in cautiously, her feet shuffling quickly backward in the sucking mud. Fear was apparent on her face as plainly as the words written in a book. Her mouth opened and closed; but if there were any sounds coming out, they were lost to Eli’s ears in the din of the pounding rain and the never ending roar of the river.

“Miss? What are you doin’ out here?” he repeated. “Are you hurt?”

“It—it—it’s . . .” she stammered, still skittering away from him. “It’s Mary . . .”

“Mary? Is your name Mary?”

“Sh-sh-she’s—she’s gone—gone into the—the river—”

From behind him, Eli could hear Hank pulling up his mount and leaping to the ground. As another sharp crack of lightning lit the sky, sending a shiver of fear through the woman as she moved even further backward, his uncle moved up beside him.

“Sweet Christmas!” the older rancher exclaimed. “What in tarnation is that gal doin’ out here! I can understand why them cattle ain’t got enough brains to stay out of this weather, but why a person would choose to be here don’t make no goddamn sense!”

“Keep it quiet!” Eli chided his uncle. “She’s scared enough as it is without you going on with such nonsense.” Turning his attention back to the woman, he added, “I can’t tell if she’s been hurt or not, but from what she’s said, I think her name’s Mary.”

The woman began to shake her head vigorously. Eli couldn’t be certain, but he thought that there were tears running down her face. When she spoke, her voice was cracking with emotion. “It—it’s Hallie. My—my name . . . is Hallie,” she struggled. “Mary—Mary is my friend . . . and—and I don’t—I don’t know where—where she is . . .”

“What’re you doin’ out in this storm, little gal?” Hank asked.

Hallie remained silent. Eli could see the hesitation in her eyes as she took the two men in, weighing whether she wanted to tell them what they wished to know. She was skittish, uncertain of what to say or do. Something horrible had happened to her, something so bad that she wasn’t even willing to trust those who were willing to help.

Eli took a small step forward and held out his hand to her. “Tell us what happened, Hallie,” he said as soothingly as he could. “There’s nothing more for you to be afraid of now. You’re safe. We’ll do everything we can to help you find your friend.”

“You’ll help me?” Hallie asked uncertainly.

“I’m Eli Morgan and this is my uncle, Hank.”

“Eli,” she repeated slowly, as if she were looking over his name for some blemish or mark that would tell its true nature. In that moment, he knew that it wasn’t just the storm that had frightened her but something else. Still, he stood fast, never letting his offered hand waver. Finally, when she had found the answer to her unspoken question, she stepped forward, reached out, and placed her trembling hand in his, her trust given.

“Tell me what happened, Hallie,” he repeated as he held her hand gently; he was surprised by how warm and soft it was, even with all the rain and mud that caked her skin.

“We’d—we’d been traveling for days . . . when the storm started,” she began, her voice growing stronger and steadier with every word. “We made it to shelter, but then I realized that Mary was gone! I—I looked for her . . . but then when I found her, she kept running away from me. I ran and I ran but I couldn’t catch her! I followed her all the way to the river . . . but then . . . but then . . . Oh, I can’t believe this has happened!”

“It’s all right, Hallie,” Eli coaxed her. “Go on.”

“What happened at the river, girl?” Hank prodded.

“I tried to tell her . . . that he wouldn’t find us, but she wouldn’t listen!” Hallie cried. Her hand shivered in Eli’s palm. “She took a step . . . a step into the water and then she was gone!”

“Into the water?” Eli asked. “She went into the river?”

“That’s why I’m looking for her!” Hallie pleaded. “I’ve been running along the bank . . . trying to find any sign of where she might be! Please, help me! Please, help find Mary!”

“If she’s in this here river,” Hank began, his arm sweeping out over the expanse of raging water, “there ain’t gonna be nobody to find.”

“We’ll look,” Eli interjected, cutting the older cowboy off. He knew what his uncle was saying was the truth; it was impossible to believe that anyone who fell into the Cummings River during a storm could survive.
You’d have a better chance of surviving a lightning hit!
But as he looked into Hallie’s soft eyes, the way that they implored him to do something,
anything
, he knew that he would have to try.

“With the way this storm is goin’, she could be miles from here,” Hank said.

“We have to look.”

For a moment, it seemed as if Hank wanted to protest the point some more, but then a grin broke out across his wizened face and he gave Hallie a nod. “Reckon you’re right. Who knows, maybe we’ll even stumble across them wayward cattle we’re lookin’ for.”

Eli was about to turn to his horse to begin the search when an insistent tug on his hand made him stop. Hallie stared hard into his face, large tears welling in her eyes. He was struck by the realization that even now, her face streaked with mud and her hair disheveled from the storm, there was a true beauty about her.