Her Rocky Trail_Seeing Ranch series

by Florence Linnington

  “We need to find shelter,” Cyrus finally said, looking away from Kitty and addressing the others.

  It was not the statement she had expected, but the rain had begun to come down harder. The immediate need to find cover had usurped everything else. Lowering their heads against the wind and rain, they continued on. With every few yards, the weather’s ferocity seemed to increase. Though the rain began as large, sporadic drops, it soon cascaded down in sheets. Each droplet stung bare skin, striking as if the clouds were vengeful and looking to destroy the humans who traveled below them.

  The ground sloped upward, taking them closer along the mountain. As Kitty watched, the river became further and further away. Though she kept her shoulders hunched and her face down, rain pelted her cheeks, each drop more painful than the last.

  The river swirled with a new force, extra water from higher up the mountain pouring downstream. It mesmerized Kitty, making her compelled to stare down while also feeling afraid to do so.

  Ahead of her, Cyrus shouted something. Kitty squinted her eyes at him. What had he said? The wind was too loud; it had carried Cyrus’ words right past her.

  A tap made Kitty look over her shoulder. Mr. Walsh held his hat out to her. Kitty shook her head. If she were to take his hat, he’d have nothing but his tall collar to protect him from the weather. Ignoring her protests, Mr. Walsh planted the hat firmly on her head. Kitty gave him a grateful smile before dropping her face down again.

  The incline became even rockier and steeper. Kitty made the mistake of looking over the edge again. Finding herself higher than she had ever been, her stomach rolled. The scene below rapidly shrank and then grew larger. It was like when Kitty twirled around in circles as a child. Then she had wanted to become lightheaded. Now she wished for the dizziness to stop.

  Quickly, she sealed her eyes shut and leaned forward in the saddle, pressing her face into her horse’s neck. She could feel the animal trembling under her, and she wondered if he felt the same fear she did, or if the shaking was just his muscles working extra hard.

  More rain came, attacking the group in what felt like ceaseless warfare. How much longer would they be climbing the mountain for? Should they have not turned back and looked for shelter on flatter land?

  Kitty didn’t have the answers, and the wind drowned her voice out when she tried to call Cyrus’ name. The horses were struggling against the wind and the incline. At some point, Kitty had become slower than Cyrus, Jim, and Mr. Guthrie. They now rode yards ahead of her. Glancing behind, she saw that the other three men were equally as far behind her. Should they not be sticking closer together?

  Kitty pushed Mr. Walsh’s hat further down on her head and kicked her heels against the thoroughbred’s side. She needed to catch up with Cyrus. In the middle of that storm, in the middle of a life uncertain, he was the only thing that made sense anymore. They needed to be together.

  The thoroughbred had hardly begun a trot when something moved in the corner of Kitty’s vision. She blinked and shook her head, wondering if her eyes were weakening, for it seemed the ground itself moved.

  Squinting through the rain, Kitty realized too late that was exactly what was happening. The ground was moving, a thick swatch of mud, dirt, and bushes sliding down the mountain. A strangled shout filled the air, and she did not need to hear the words to know the call was one of warning.

  Faster, the mud came, barreling right toward Kitty. She froze. Did she stop the horse? Rush forward?

  The moment for decision had passed. The horse faltered as the ground underneath its legs began to churn. Kitty’s stomach somersaulted. She clung to the horse’s reins and neck with all her might, but they were both moving. Mud gushed underneath the horse, tossing the animal onto its side.

  Kitty braced herself, ready to make contact with the ground—but the earth was not there. She and the thoroughbred were falling, flying through thin air. Her insides exploded in terror and nausea as they descended. In her blurry vision, she just saw the figures above her—the men and horses becoming smaller and smaller as she and her horse plummeted down the mountainside.

  Mr. Walsh’s hat flew off her head, and the rain pummeled her face. Rushing sounded as air attacked her from all sides. There was no time to scream, no time to think. She was slipping from the horse, sliding off its back…

  Kitty leaned forward, desperately pressing herself into her horse’s neck. All she knew was that they had to stay together.

  With a smack that made her bones shake, Kitty and the horse hit the water. Cold like a thousand daggers pierced her whole body, and darkness surrounded her.

  Chapter Sixteen

  16. Cyrus

  Chapter sixteen

  The noise was like nothing Cyrus had ever heard, a rumbling, thunderous crunching sound. Though it was new to him, he knew what it was right away. Turning in his saddle, he saw the mud flooding across the thin trail they traversed, Kitty and the thoroughbred being swept along with it.

  “No!” he shouted, his cry being lost in the wind.

  Woman and horse flew over the side of the mountain, down into the river below. Cyrus’ heart exploded. Jumping from his horse, he raced to the ledge, skittering t a stop before he plunged over the side along with her. Dark mud swirled in the water, making ugly patterns.

  “Where is she? Do you see her?” Domino’s voice was right next to his ear. The other men were shouting as well, their voices too muffled by the storm to make out.

  Cyrus glanced back over his shoulder. The group had been split by the mudslide, half of the men in front of it and half behind it. Cyrus had thought the center of the line was the safest place—that’s why he ordered Kitty to ride there.

  Of all the dangers they faced, though, robbers and wild animals included, Cyrus had never expected the one thing that had taken Kitty. Nature was raw, unpredictable—but until that moment he’d never guessed it could be so cruel.

  His eyes jumped back to the river. Kitty and the horse still hadn’t surfaced. With the water moving fast as it was, they could already be a quarter mile down the river. Not wasting another second, Cyrus jumped on his horse and pushed the beast forward.

  The horse slipped against the incline, pebbles sliding under its hoofs. Cyrus kicked his heels against its sides, forcing it on. There was a chance they would tumble into the river and meet their own demise, but the risk was worth it.

  Kitty could still be alive, but he had to find her right away. Every moment she spent trapped in the raging river, her life came closer to ending. She had told him she could swim, but Cyrus didn’t know just how strong she would be in such a forceful current., He prayed to God she’d managed to hold onto the horse. With his strong legs against the current, maybe they could swim to shore that way.

  Abruptly, the incline leveled out before sloping back down. They’d been teetering on the edge of a mountain during the whole storm and were finally free of it. Cyrus spurred the horse into a run, throwing caution to the wind and barreling headfirst into the storm. He didn’t look back to see whether the others were behind him or not. He had to find Kitty. Nothing else mattered.

  Where the land was flatter, the river pushed wide logs against the bank, froth swirling around the wood. Cyrus searched the area, scanning the bank and the river as far as he could see.

  No horse. No Kitty.

  In a breath, the scene before Cyrus faded out. Half of his vision blacked, and he swayed in his saddle.

  Kitty.

  He had only known her a short time, but that did not matter. Cyrus had never had someone to love, someone he could take care of. Other than Kitty. And now she was gone.

  Spurring the horse on, he continued down the bank at a gallop, scanning each inch of the river as he went for any sign of her. Fallen trees. Muddied banks. But never, ever Kitty.

  At some point, Cyrus was aware of someone riding next to him. The storm was abating, and when Domino spoke his voice was clear. “Ross! Stop!”

  Cyrus immediately obeyed. “You foun
d her?”

  Sadness filled the other man’s face. The look did not fit on Domino. “No,” he answered.

  “Then we’re not stopping,” Cyrus harshly answered.

  Domino started to respond, but Cyrus rode on.

  Throughout the afternoon, he searched. The wind and rain cleared, leaving a dismally gray sky in its wake, and still Cyrus continued. The others joined him, half of them going back along the bank in case Kitty had struggled to shore there while Cyrus and the others rode down the bank.

  Cyrus’ stomach churned, bile constantly threatening to rise. The sky darkened in a way that had nothing to do with storms. Night was falling. They’d spent the whole afternoon looking for Kitty.

  “Ross,” Domino said harshly, pulling his horse in front of Cyrus to stop his progress. “You’ll run that horse to death.”

  “We have to find her,” he croaked, his throat sore from screaming her name.

  “We won’t in the dark. You know that. If she’s out of the river, she’ll know which way to walk.”

  Domino spoke of the situation in the best possible way, one in which Kitty was well enough to walk. She’d be lucky to make it out of the river not only without a lungful of water but with no broken bones as well.

  “If we’re going to find her, we need to rest.”

  Cyrus nodded, though he hated himself for giving in.

  The men silently collected, settling down on a grassy slope a safe distance from the river. The overly full river still pulsed, its pounding sounding much like the roaring of a train or a tornado. Cyrus had seen a few of those in Texas, but though he’d felt fear over the appearance of the twisting cyclones, that fear didn’t compare at all to the agony he felt now.

  Now it seemed that sound might be the song he heard for the rest of his life.

  “Here.” Brady settled next to Cyrus, a hunk of jerky in his hand.

  Cyrus shook his head, rejecting the food. Instead, he took a long drink from his canteen. His stomach wouldn’t be able to hold anything other than water.

  Eventually, Brady left him alone. Cyrus stayed motionless, sitting with his arms on his legs. Behind him, the men talked in whispers. As the minutes crept by, Cyrus’ limbs became heavy. The moonlight sparkled on the river, taunting Cyrus with its beauty. How could something so pretty take the most important thing away from him?

  For Kitty was the most important thing to him. He’d been too dumb to realize it until she was gone. He’d ordered a bride thinking he wouldn’t grow attached to her, thinking there would be no love there… but he’d been sorely mistaken. Kitty meant more to him than he had ever expected. Her passion, wild spirit, and devotion to her sister—all things that Cyrus had thought got in the way—he loved about her.

  And now he just might never see her again. He may never get the chance to tell her how he truly felt about her.

  Cyrus pinched the bridge of his nose and sealed his eyes shut. His temples pounded, and the sight of Kitty falling into the river replayed over and over in his head. He should have made her go back sooner. What had he been thinking? He’d let her influence him, and now they’d paid a sorry price.

  First one Byrum sister… then the other.

  Cyrus could nearly feel the blood on his hands. He’d done this to Kitty.

  His mind raced on, reminding him that he was no good. He hadn’t been assertive enough, and now a young woman — his bride — was likely dead.

  At some point, the voices softened and Cyrus fell into a fitful sleep. The world of dreams was just as bad as the one of living, though. Visions of Kitty waited for him everywhere.

  By the time early morning came, Cyrus woke with a jerk. He’d fallen asleep on the bank and now found himself covered in a light dew. Shivering, he shook the dampness from his jacket best he could and lugged himself to his feet.

  The others were still asleep, the horses quiet. Fetching the one he’d been riding the entire journey, Cyrus galloped along the river, following the same path he had the day before.

  More debris cluttered the waterway: sticks, branches, and whole trees bobbed in the waters. The storm had been a short but powerful one. Cyrus rode a few miles, having to get off the horse and walk on foot in several places in order to inspect the banks.

  How many miles had he gone since Kitty fell into the river? He couldn’t tell. And how many more could the rushing waters have carried her?

  Stopping so the horse could have a rest, Cyrus crouched on the bank and dipped his hands in the river. Muddy, ugly water rushed through his fingers. Just the day before, the waters had run crystal clear.

  This couldn’t go on forever. The river had taken Kitty in the same direction they hoped the outlaws were in. Eventually, he’d either find Kitty or Helen. Or both.

  Hopefully.

  Squeezing his fingers into a tight fist, Cyrus let the curses fly. None of this made a lick of sense. Hadn’t he already been through enough? And Kitty and Helen as well? Wyoming was supposed to have been their new beginning, a fresh start—but it had turned into nothing but a nightmare.

  What had they done to deserve this? Cyrus yearned to shake his fist at the sky and curse God, but he figured he’d found the truth: there could be no great power up there. Not unless it got a thrill from playing games and making people suffer.

  The sound of hoof beats made him straighten up. The posse was coming his way, all of them leading their horses on foot. Cyrus looked at the ground, afraid that they would see the emotion on his face.

  “Anything?” Jim asked.

  “No,” Cyrus muttered.

  That awful, heavy silence that had been following them as of late reappeared.

  “This was a bad idea,” someone said.

  Cyrus looked up from under his hat brim to see Nelson shaking his head.

  “If she wanted to help save her sister, she should have done like all women should and stayed at home,” Nelson continued.

  Cyrus felt his jaw tighten. The words were a shock coming from Nelson. So far, he’d either kept to himself or said agreeable things. Now he looked put off like his general store had inconvenienced him by running out of sugar. Did it even matter to him that Kitty might be dead?

  “Shut your mouth,” Jim snapped.

  Nelson gave him an angry look. “I ain’t going to. You know as well as I do that she shouldn’t have been here. Since when have you heard of women riding in posses?”

  “That’s enough,” Cyrus hissed through tight teeth.

  Nelson scowled. “All I’m saying is what everyone else is thinking.”

  Fury swept through Cyrus. His hands turned into fists again, and he rushed forward. All rational thought escaped him, he just knew he had to get his hands on Nelson. He had to make the man take back what he’d said.

  Cyrus hadn’t taken more than two steps, though, when a fist connected with the underside of Nelson’s jaw. The man’s head snapped back, and he crumpled to the ground.

  “That should shut him up for a little while,” Domino said, rubbing the knuckles of his fist. “Course, he’ll be awake in ten or so minutes, but hopefully his jaw will be too sore to run.”

  The others all stared at Domino. Appreciation swelled in Cyrus’ chest, and he blinked back the wetness in his eyes. Good grief, he was turning into a mess. Yet, he couldn’t help it. To know that someone stood by his side in all this… it meant more than Cyrus could put words to.

  “Well,” Domino said. “Someone help me lay him across his saddle. We need to keep going.”

  Cyrus nodded in agreement, his throat too thick for any talking.

  Chapter Seventeen

  17. Kitty

  Chapter seventeen

  Kitty held onto the thoroughbred’s reins like they were the one thing keeping her tethered to life. In a way, they were. Surrounded by a strange land, with every crack of a branch making her jump, the horse was the only familiar thing she had left.

  By the grace of God, they had both made it out of the river alive. Kitty had not stopped thanki
ng the lord since she crawled onto the pebbly banks sputtering and gasping for air.

  Her whole body ached, her left leg holding most of the pain. In stopping to inspect herself, she had discovered a purple and yellow bruise forming up the length of her entire thigh. The horse had a cut down his right flank, and though it looked painful, it was not a deep one. It appeared only his flesh had been sliced.

  When she’d slipped beneath the waves, she thought her life was coming to an end. She’d fallen completely off the horse.