Behind him, Jackson heard the Irishman trying to move. “Stay here. We don’t have enough hands to save your sorry hide again.”
“But—”
“Stay.” With one hand on the horn, Jackson heaved himself into the saddle, but he didn’t get high enough. Back on the ground, he slammed his forehead into the hard leather. The gelding sidestepped away from him.
Once again, he put his foot back in the stirrup, hopping to follow the now nervous animal.
His body felt as if molasses surrounded him. He lifted his eyes and looked to the daybreak.
A blurry form wavered on the horizon. Squinting his eyes, he stopped breathing. It was a small human. A tiny form limped toward him. Hope surged his heavy limbs.
Dropping the reins, he took a step toward the emerging figure. Wary to believe what he was seeing. Another step toward the small muddy figure and adrenaline surged through his limbs. New energy woke up every tired defeated cell in his body.
Without the hat, the walking figure stumbled. Jackson let it all go and ran to her. Each breath heaved from his lungs. It was her. She was here. Not only alive, but on her feet. Before he could reach her, she fell.
Without thought of who was watching, he dropped next to her, sliding in the wet ground. She lay curled on her side, her black hair plastered to her head. The soft skin was livid with cuts and bruises.
Rips shredded parts of her pants. Her left arm supported her, and her right was wrapped tight around her middle as she tried to push herself back up.
“Easy. I have you.” He tried to lift her, but his legs gave out. He went back down with her cradled in his arms. Sitting in the mud, he held her close. His head bent over her.
She coughed.
Thank You, God. Thank You. Pressing his forehead against hers, he wept.
He waited for her to make another sound, leaning closer just to hear her breathing. One of the sweetest sounds he’d heard in a long time.
Kneeling with her in his arms, he battled the urge to lay his head against her chest to hear the proof of the life-giving beat of her heart. She was alive. God had answered his prayers.
He threaded his big fingers through her smaller ones and gently squeezed. Tiago shifted and tightened her own hand against his.
One of his tears fell on their linked knuckles, washing dirt and grit from her delicate skin. He needed to get hold of his emotions. His crying like a newborn wouldn’t help any of them.
Her face was half hidden by clumps of dark hair. With his free hand, he smoothed back the muddy, matted hair. He needed to see the life in her eyes. With a quick scan, he ran his hand down her arm and checked her legs. “Are you harmed?”
Her inky black eyelashes fluttered against her abused skin. Shaking her head, she raised her chin, large brown eyes searing him to the core. She was alive and well.
He pulled her against his heart. A heart that had become too big for the small place in his chest.
One hand in her hair, the other pressed her against him. He leaned into her until his lips touched the edge of her ear. “Tell me your name.”
She shook her head.
“Please. I thought you were dead.”
“Rory? Will?” She pushed against him, trying to sit up on her own. He glanced behind him. Rory was the only one who could see them, and he was gone.
Reality dumped cold water over him. He needed to remember Tiago was supposed to be a boy. The others could return at any time.
One hop, he was standing and putting her feet on the ground. He didn’t want to let go. “Can you stand? How bad are your injuries?”
“I’m good. Cold and sore, but...what about Rory and Will?” Her voice, low and ragged, tore at him.
She had risked her life for theirs. He clenched his jaw, stopping the angry words from spewing all over her. “Rory was shot, but he’s well.”
Her eyes closed, and she almost fell as her knees gave. He pulled her next to him with one arm around her waist.
“Thanks to your foolishness, he didn’t fall into the stampede.”
She sagged against him. “I saw his horse going down, and I knew he was a goner if I didn’t do something.” She closed her eyes and smiled. “Will?”
He shook his head. “We found him. Red dug his grave this morning.”
Tears filled her eyes and slipped over her lashes. Trails formed in the mud on her face.
Turning from her, he scanned the area. “Don’t waste your sorrow on him. He risked your life and Rory’s with his senselessness.”
He knew he sounded cold, but Will’s stupidity put the others in danger. The thought of what could have happened ate at his gut. He’d have to get his emotions under control and quick.
It would be dangerous for everyone if he couldn’t keep his thoughts on the job. He also needed to keep his hands in his pockets. Touching her was dangerous. For so many reasons.
But right now, she needed him. When they got to the wagon, he’d make sure to keep at least two steps between them and keep his hands off. In this moment, he couldn’t keep his distance. “We need to get you to the wagon.”
Head down, she bit her bottom lip and pulled away from him. “I don’t need your help.” She straightened her back and started walking. At least she tried. She stumbled, and he gathered her in his left arm again.
“What happened after you fell from the horse? Where’d you go?”
She took a deep breath before answering him. “When I pulled Rory over to my horse, the weight threw my mare off her stride, so I thought if I threw my body to the opposite side we’d all stay up. I misjudged and went too far. I rolled away from the herd.”
The pit of his stomach heaved. The image of her going under the ocean of hooves and horns branded his brain. “But where were you? I rode all along the ridge and area.”
“I knew the hooves were deadly. When I realized I was on the ground, there was no sense of direction. I kept rolling, hoping to stay out of the herd’s way. Suddenly ground disappeared. A tangle of roots slowed my fall, and from there I went into the water. The current carried me a while before I could—”
For the first time, she heaved and started crying. Pulling her into his arms, he surrounded her. “It’s okay. You’re here. I have you.”
She sobbed, burying her face into his vest. All he could do was hold her and stroke her back. Every once in a while, he smoothed her hair until her breathing was normal.
“That’s how my mom and brother died. They...” A giant sob shuddered her tiny body. “They were swept away in a flash flood and never...”
“I’ve got you.” For a moment, he pulled her closer, her heartbeat reassuring him she was in good health. Leaning back, he put his finger under her chin and lifted her face.
He leaned in until his lips were a whispered width of a dream from her full rose-colored mouth.
The desire to touch her, to kiss her soft skin overwhelmed him. He took his gaze from her mouth to her eyes. The morning sun kissed the valley and highlighted the curves of Tiago’s battered face.
No. He closed his eyes. He couldn’t do this again, not after Lilly. He needed the anger back. It protected them both.
The subdued rumbling of the calmed longhorns carried across the valley on a soft breeze, and the early sun gently caressed the green valley.
It was as if the events of the last night never happened. Other than the hole in the ground. The final stop for one of his cowboys.
One, two, three. The distance between them left him cold, but he needed that.
He couldn’t afford to touch her again. Not only would it give her identity away to the others, it threatened his stability.
She started walking. A limp made her gait uneven. He thought about picking her up and carrying her the rest of the way. But one, it would put her back in his arms, and
two, she wanted to be a cowhand.
Cowhands didn’t get carried back to camp. She’d earned the right to walk back on her own two feet.
He growled and followed close.
“Tiago!” Estevan ran his horse straight at them. “God be praised!” He swung off the still-moving horse. He came up to her other side and put his arm under hers.
Not a good idea to let the cowboys get too close. Jackson got on her other side. “You get your horse. I’ll make sure Tiago gets to Cook.”
Estevan nodded, a big grin on his face. “I’ll tell the others. This turned into a good day.”
By the time Jackson got her to the wagon, she was breathing heavily. What if there were internal injuries they couldn’t see?
Rory had reappeared. Clean from a dip in the river. He let out a shout and rushed them.
Cook came running from the back side of the wagon, a long meat cleaver raised over his head. His round body moved faster than Jackson thought possible. “Mija, you live.” His dark eyes glistened.
One flick of his wrist and the blade was buried into the side board before he took the petite girl from Jackson’s arms and took over the care of Tiago. Cook looked up at him, seeming to remember others were there. “I’ve got our boy. I’ll make sure he is all clean and healthy.”
And in a blink, Jackson’s arms were empty. Cook vanished with Tiago.
Rory rested his back against the side of the wagon and cut a harsh frown. Displeasure stamped across his face. “If you don’t want the others to know Tiago’s secret, you might want to watch the way you’re looking at him.” He adjusted the sling holding his arm in place. “I take it Cook knows.”
Jackson glared at the wounded cowboy. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Rory snorted. “Yeah, okay. I’m going to see if I can help the others.
“You sure you won’t be in the way?”
“My good arm is still working. I’ll take it easy, but I can’t just sit here. Maybe I’ll check on Tiago instead. We’re going to need every cowboy riding the herd.”
“Leave Tiago alone. He is not leaving the wagon for the rest of the trip.”
“Boss, the kid’s strong. Sh...” He grinned. “He saved my worthless hide last night, and managed to get back to the camp without help from any of us.” Rory stared at him for a silent minute. “Tiago might be the best cowboy you’ve got. Don’t punish him based on a social standard.” Without waiting for a reply, he turned and left.
Jackson sighed. Did the Irishman have an interest in Tiago?
His fists clenched at his sides as he fought the urge to hit something or someone. He hated the way it overwhelmed him. He had never been a violent man, not until losing his family.
That time in his life was a fiery blur. He had gone on a blind rampage, tracking down the men who had taken everything from him. Watching as the law took care of them.
Nothing changed. His family was still dead. Everything was still lost, at times even his desire to live.
It was easier to stay numb. To keep his plan on a day-by-day journey.
On the edge of the river, Cook helped Tiago take off the outer shirt. The small figure was beaten and covered in mud.
Jackson’s emotions came too close to the surface with her. His skin tightened over his bones, like he didn’t fit in his own body. Not good.
He spun away from the sight and marched to his gear. He needed distance.
Tiago brought out the worst in him. Pausing, he tilted his head back and looked to the sky. It felt ridiculous calling her Tiago. She never did answer his question. She still didn’t trust him with her real name. Then again, he didn’t trust himself.
He shook his head. They would put Will to rest, then gather the last of the cattle that had gotten lost last night. He didn’t even have a bible to say some verses over Will’s grave.
Pushing his hat up, he rubbed the top of his forehead. Tiago read from a bible every night. Retracing his steps, he stopped next to the mules. “Tiago! When you’re clean and ready, bring your bible over to Will’s grave site. We’ll be burying him at the base of the hill.”
“Okay!”
Turn. Go to the cowboys. Instead, he stood there. “Are you healthy?” He’d heard of cowboys taking a fall, getting up, acting just fine, then dropping dead. “You need to be careful.” His voice sounded gruff to his own ears.
“You—” she pointed at his chest “—need to stop worrying about me. We’ll be there in just a bit.”
He couldn’t think of another reason to stay. Turning, he focused his gaze on the horizon ahead of him. The boys needed his help. Standing around like an idiot, waiting for Tiago, was not helping anyone.
What they all needed was a day of rest, but there was no such thing on the trail. They deserved to take it a bit slow today. Tomorrow would be time enough to move out again. He was determined to keep Tiago in the wagon. He’d take Will’s place on the drive.
What he needed to do most was keep his distance from the cook’s little hardheaded assistant.
Chapter Ten
Sofia joined the cowboys around Will’s resting place. He’d be forever on the drive. Still a bit wobbly on her feet, she handed Jackson her leather bible. The need to stand close to him was denied when he took her offering, then hightailed it to the opposite side of Will’s grave. If she wanted to stand next to him, she’d have to push Red and Sam out of the way.
With a sigh, she closed her eyes and reminded herself this was not about her. Looking down into the hole, she could see the outline of Will’s body. No coffin, just his blanket. That could have been her and Rory.
She glanced up at the men standing around her. It could have been any of them.
No one knew what the day would hold, and who would make it to another. When her mother and brother were washed away, she was at home tucked in bed. She had been relieved when her mother didn’t make her go to town with them that morning. She was under thick warm quilts while they were washed away and died. She should have been with them on their way to church.
Jackson cleared his throat and spoke of the darkest valley and the shadow of death.
The shadow of death. God, why am I still here? Is Your will leading me on this path, or am I being stubborn? Is this a rebellion against You, or against people blocking me from being true to Your will?
Wrapping her arms around her still damp middle, she settled in next to Rory. His hat in his hand, he put his good arm around her shoulder. She appreciated the warmth of another human being, but she longed for Jackson’s comfort.
The men all mumbled an amen. Clint pulled a harmonica from his shirt pocket and started playing “Amazing Grace.” Each man joined, with every voice becoming one. Sofia wiped her eyes, biting her lip. Head down, Jackson didn’t sing. Once the last verse was sung, he stepped back a few feet.
With a small shovel, Red started filling the hole he had dug early that morning. The other cowboys joined in and covered Will’s body with the loose dirt. He would remain young and on the trail, forever. Did he have family who would miss him? A mother or father?
She looked at Jackson, hoping to make eye contact, but he turned on his heel and left the grave site when the first shovel full of dirt hit the blanket.
In silence, the others started covering Will’s body. Even Rory planted his hat low and used his boot to shove the dirt over the edge.
Her gaze darted from the six men to the retreating back of her boss. She wanted to chase after him, but staying with the men seemed like the right thing to do.
She filled her hands with earth and threw it into the grave. The soft thud of hard dirt echoed in her heart. Life was over so fast.
Cook laid his hand on her arm. “Go check on jefe. Your body also needs rest, or you’ll not be able to move tomorrow.”
S
he glanced at the others, who all nodded, with the exception of Rory. His nostrils flared, each heavy breath moving his chest. He looked angry. Was it her?
Cook nudged her. “Go.”
Looking toward Rory one last time, she found him stiff and staring into the grave. Jackson had made her a promise that he would not have to bury her. He took the burial of his people seriously. She ran to catch up to him. The bruises and injuries made movement difficult, but the last thing she wanted was for her boss to think she couldn’t handle the hardships.
Reaching out to him, she touched his back. Hard muscles tensed, and he turned. A fire burned in his eyes, causing her to take a step back.
“What’s wrong?” She tried not to stumble over the words, but he looked fierce. All traces of his easygoing nature gone.
“We buried someone I was responsible for. We could have easily had two other graves. What do you think is wrong?”
“You can’t protect people from their own foolishness.”
“We almost lost you.” He closed his eyes and rubbed the center of his chest. “And Rory. I should have told y’all to stay back. Every decision I make has consequences.”
“You wouldn’t have been able to mill the herd by yourself. You needed us there.”
He pinned her with a hard stare. She took another step back. His intensity scared her a bit. Swallowing the thickness in her throat, she tried to come up with words. All of them were blocked. Not a single word formed.
“I would rather lose every stinking cow than one man...or woman.” After a moment of silence, his eyes soften.
His hand came up and stopped mere inches from her face. Callused fingers of a working man, so close she leaned forward wanting his warmth. What took her by surprise was the impulse to curl up against him and nip at the work tough skin with her teeth. She wasn’t sure where that thought came from, heat climbing up her neck.
Waiting, her heart rate accelerated as his hand hovered. Her eyes went from his hand to his face. She watched as his gaze shifted from her to over her shoulder.
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