Clueless Cowboy

by Mary Connealy

  Stephie hadn’t told a soul about Jake. She loved having a secret.

  “It’s okay if you run over to Jake’s and give him his mail, but you come right home.”

  “Em-i-ly,” Stephie drew her name out into about six syllables. “Jake isn’t a stranger anymore.”

  Emily nodded. She didn’t know when to take the “stranger” label off the man. Emily didn’t know the rules.

  Stephie ran off to Jake’s.

  Emily headed to the barn to feed her steers.

  Ten

  “Emi-leeeee!” Stephie came tearing over the hill only minutes after she’d left.

  Emily dropped her scoop and ran. “Stephie, what?”

  “Jake’s hurt.” Stephie skidded, wheeled around, and took off.

  Emily sprinted to catch her. Stephie veered off the path and Emily followed, ducking branches Stephie sent slapping back.

  Stephie dashed down a slope.

  Emily lost her footing, sat down hard, and began sliding down the hill. Her jeans ripped. She clawed at the ground to stop, then scrambled to her feet and raced on after Stephie.

  Stephie ran around a huge, felled cottonwood and dropped out of sight as if she’d fallen into a hole.

  Emily rounded the tree and her heart twisted in terror. Jake was pinned under the massive trunk.

  “You found her. Thanks, sweetheart.” He was talking. His eyes were open. His face was sickly white. What kind of internal injuries might he have? “Emily, thank God you’re here.”

  Frantically praying as she tried to figure out what to do, she knew an ambulance could never get back in here, but the EMTs could carry a stretcher. But the tree? How could they move it? She looked up the hill. She could get her tractor in there but she didn’t have enough chain.

  “I don’t think I’m badly hurt. Just stuck.” Jake spoke with a scratchy whisper.

  “What happened?” She could see where he had attempted to dig with his left hand. He hadn’t made much progress, but it was a good idea. If he really wasn’t hurt, maybe she could dig him loose. She slid down beside him.

  “The tree rolled while I was chopping it. I found a dead one. To spare the American elm.” He attempted a weak laugh, but it ended in a moan of pain.

  The tree clung to the side of the hill, the top farther down than the roots. It had already moved once. If it started rolling, they’d be crushed.

  Stephie. She had to get Stephie out of here. Stephie held Jake’s left hand. Emily would have a fight on her hands if she tried to send Stephie away. She didn’t have time for a fight.

  Jake’s right arm was pinned between the tree and his stomach. He lay in a little crevasse washed out by spring runoff. That was the only reason he was still alive.

  “Jake, hang on. I’ll see if I can. . .” She shut up and started digging. She needed just a bit larger depression. With her hands it would take a long time. Stephie saw Emily and imitated her. The tree quivered.

  “Stop.” Emily used a voice that gained absolute and immediate obedience. She didn’t know where it came from.

  Stephie looked up, terrified. Emily had to get Stephie out of here. Maybe she could stabilize the tree somehow.

  “Stephie, I want you to go back to our house and get something for me.”

  Eager to help, Stephie jumped to her feet.

  “I need a. . .get. . .do you know where I keep the shovel? You know, the one with the blue handle in the toolshed?

  Stephie nodded. “I know where it is.”

  “Good girl. And a rope. There’s one in the barn, but you’ll have to—” The only one she could think of was knotted to an overhead door. Stephie couldn’t get it. She’d have to go herself.

  “How about the swing rope we took down and put in the basement last fall?”

  Perfect. “That’s exactly right. Get that and the shovel and bring them to me.”

  Stephie bent, gave Jake’s hand a last squeeze, and ran.

  Emily turned back to find Jake’s eyes on her. Something cracked in her heart to see him so vulnerable.

  “Tell me what happened.” She put all her fear into digging.

  “I was chopping firewood, planning to build a fire and cook some real food.” Jake took a ragged breath. He twisted his head to watch her. “I stood on the trunk, hacking at a limb. It slid. I lost my footing and fell, and it pinned me. I tried to dig.”

  Emily’s stomach turned when she pictured Jake falling in front of this massive tree. If he had landed just inches up or down the hill or if the tree had buried him under the gnarled roots hovering by their heads, he would be dead. “How long have you been here?”

  “I’ve probably been here since two o’clock.”

  Two hours. She worked doggedly, ignoring the rocky soil scraping her hands, praying as she worked.

  “I don’t think anything is hurt. I can feel my legs. My toes wiggle.”

  “What happened to your voice?” She wiped a filthy hand across her brow as sweat stung her eyes.

  “I yelled for help for a long time, hoping you’d hear me.” Jake’s head sank back onto the ground and his eyes fell shut.

  Emily stopped pawing in the dirt and leaned over him. “Are you all right?” She rested a muddy hand on his forehead.

  His eyes flickered open under her cool touch. “I’m all right. It’s just. . . I’m resting.”

  Emily leaned close. “We’re going to get you out of here. Now don’t go fainting on me. I may need some help.”

  “What can I do?” He sounded hopeless.

  Emily couldn’t stand it. “You’ll do whatever I tell you to do, hotshot. Just because you’re useless as a lumberjack doesn’t mean you can’t help me haul your ragged backside out from under this tree.”

  Jake grabbed her wrist and pulled it off his forehead. “Ragged backside? Where’d a nice girl like you learn that kind of rough talk?” The little flash of spirit was encouraging.

  Emily smiled, pulled her wrist free, and turned back to digging.

  Stephie came dashing through the woods, yelling, “I found the shovel and rope!” Sticks hung from Stephie’s tousled hair. She had nearly as much dirt on her face as Jake.

  “Great, honey.” Emily jumped up, took the rope, wrapped it around the tree, and knotted it. She tied it to the nearest live tree. The rope couldn’t hold the weight of this tree for long, but it might give them the seconds they’d need.

  Stephie knelt by Jake, holding his hand. Emily wanted Stephie away, but her little sister needed to help.

  With the shovel, Emily moved dirt in earnest. Her arms ached from the hard work and tension.

  At last she threw down the shovel. Reaching under the tree, she scraped out a Jake-sized trench. She ran around the tree and dug until she met the opening she’d made. “Okay, Stephie. I’m ready to work where you are now. Can you let me in there?”

  Stephie backed away but hovered nearby.

  “I want you up the hill. Do you see that wild plum tree up there? The one with the white flowers?”

  “Yeah, but can’t I help? I want to—”

  Emily faced her little sister. “You can help Jake by doing as you’re told. I’m ready to pull him out now and I need space. Now go.” Emily didn’t issue many orders.

  Stephie went.

  Emily called after her, “You know how to call 911, right?”

  “Yeah, do you want me to go call?”

  “No, not now. But if—” Emily’s throat closed, she swallowed and finished, “If you need to, you call, and call the Murrays, too. They’ll come running.”

  “How will I know if I need to?” Stephie sounded so scared.

  Emily hated putting her though this. If this went badly, Stephie would see awful things. Emily quit thinking about it. “You’ll know. Just go on up the hill, darlin’.” Emily turned back to Jake.

  Jake grabbed her ankle. “We both know this thing is barely clinging to the hill. I don’t want you in the way if it rolls.”

  Emily glanced up to make sure Stephie c
ouldn’t hear. “We try my way, or I call for help.”

  “I’m not saying I know a better way. I’m looking at that trunk hanging over our heads and I’m telling you, if the moment comes and you have to make a choice, I want your word you’ll get out of the way.”

  “What do you want me to say? I won’t die for you?” She tried for sarcasm, but her voice trembled.

  “That’s right. It’s real noble, but what about Stephie? She’s had enough people die. If this tree starts to slide, get out. That rope will give you the time you need and no more.”

  “What are you guys doing?” Stephie took two steps toward them.

  “Stay by the tree.” Emily tried to keep the fear out of her voice. If she was killed, Stephie’s closest family was a retired uncle in Phoenix.

  She looked down at Jake. “We’re going to do this. It’s going to work. So stop talking about people dying.”

  Jake gripped her ankle with surprising strength. “Promise me. I won’t let go until you do.”

  Something warm turned over in her. She would die for him.

  He must have read her expression. “Say it, Emily. Promise.”

  Instead, she said, “ ‘Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends.’ ”

  “That sounds perfect. So let me give up my life for you.”

  “I didn’t mean that.”

  “Why does your saying apply to you but not me?”

  “It’s not a saying. It’s in the Bible.”

  “I’ve seen so many people die.” His painful grip on her ankle eased. “I’ve seen the pain it leaves behind. If something happened to me, it wouldn’t even create a ripple in this world, but Stephie needs you.”

  “I’m not going to argue about whose life is more valuable.”

  “Promise. Please. If I came out of this alive and you didn’t, it would kill me anyway.”

  She had to put his mind at ease. “I promise. I won’t die for you, and you won’t die. For me.”

  She held his gaze until he released her leg. “Let’s do it.”

  Emily turned to the uphill side of the tree. “If I can get your arm loose. . .” She concentrated on pulling dirt from under Jake’s back.

  “It’s pretty numb. It won’t be much use to us.”

  She quit digging and braced both hands on his chest. “This might hurt.”

  “It’s been that kind of day.”

  She pushed down. His arm slipped free. The tree inched sideways.

  “Get out of here.” Jake’s voice was a barely human growl.

  “Get out yourself, hotshot.” She jumped over him and tugged him into the hollow she’d dug. The tree quivered and slid another inch.

  Emily grabbed his shoulders and pulled. The moist forest soil helped Jake slide. The tree pivoted on the rope. Jake’s knees came out. He got his feet loose.

  Jake’s prison vanished under the roots. The roots swung toward them. The tree paused, straining against the rope.

  Then with a loud snap, the rope broke and the log rolled straight at them.

  Eleven

  Emily grabbed Jake and dragged him to his feet.

  The thick, uprooted tree trunk bore down on them.

  She shouted, “Jump!”

  Jake found the strength to obey.

  Emily dived after him. Something slapped her face.

  Jake and Emily landed in the dirt, side by side, and turned to watch the tree crush everything in its path. Then Jake pulled Emily close with his left arm. A small tornado hit.

  Stephie.

  “You did it,” Stephie squealed.

  Jake grabbed Stephie, pulled her onto his lap, and tickled her.

  Emily sat up. Things started to go black, and she dropped back on the cool dirt so she wouldn’t pass out.

  She rolled her head sideways at Stephie’s giggles, studying Jake. He favored his right arm, but it seemed to be working. Stephie jumped away from Jake, yelling in excitement, and Jake got to his feet slowly, but he made it.

  When the black receded and Emily’s vision cleared, she stood, leaned against a less malevolent tree, and watched as Jake and Stephie celebrated.

  “Jake, I want to look at your arm. You may need a doctor.”

  “Boy, you start crying doctor every time there’s the least little trouble.”

  Emily looked up sharply.

  “Gotcha.” Jake laughed, came over, and touched her neck. The humor faded from his eyes. “You’re bleeding.”

  “I am?” She looked into the warmest expression she’d ever seen on his face. And that included the first time she’d fed him meat loaf.

  “You saved my life, pure and simple. I am your slave for life. Thank you. And I’m so, so very sorry you are hurt.” He pulled his hand away from her neck and there was blood on his muddy fingertips. With a shudder, he pulled her into his arms.

  Stephie threw her arms around both of them, nearly knocking them down the hill.

  Emily’s panicky reaction eased in Jake’s strong arms. When she felt steady, she pulled away. “Let’s get on down to the house.”

  She pushed out of their little circle and stood for a minute to make sure her wobbly legs would support her before she headed down the hill.

  Stephie’s childish chatter and Jake’s smooth, deep voice followed her. They walked past the dead tree, rolled halfway to the house, and she couldn’t stop the tears that spilled down her face. She kept ahead of them so Stephie wouldn’t see. Emily wiped the tears with her muddy hands as she shooed Jake toward the kitchen chair.

  The old Barrett place, despite its new roof, looked the same inside as she remembered. She’d been in and out too fast the day she’d found Jake hurt to notice much. Dark oak cupboards, half of them with doors missing, lined the kitchen walls over a row of floor cabinets. A cracked porcelain sink, stained with rust, was the only fixture. No stove, no refrigerator. The floor was covered with ancient linoleum, swirled light tan under a coating of dirt.

  There were a few cans and boxes in the cupboard, a loaf of bread lying on the countertop, and a half-empty case of Spam on the kitchen floor. She shuddered. “I suppose you don’t have any first aid stuff yet?”

  Jake studied her face, then shook his head.

  Emily was too upset to scold. “You’re going to have to shed that shirt, hotshot.”

  “Since you saved my life, I’ll let you get away with that name. I’m starting to kind of like it.” He tried to pull off his battered T-shirt, but his right hand wasn’t cooperating. Finally he reached behind his neck with the left and pulled the whole thing over his head. He looked at the decimated piece of clothing, then tossed it at a cardboard box full of trash. “Country life is hard on clothes.”

  “Oh, Jake.” A scrape dark with dried blood covered his right arm from shoulder to elbow, the skin raw. His chest was covered in abrasions. She struggled to control her tears.

  “It looks worse than it is.” Jake cradled his right arm.

  Emily started scrubbing her hands in the ice cold water from the kitchen tap. “Steph, I’m going to need some things from our house. Run and get. . .get. . .” Emily stopped. There was so much. “Jake, can you make it over to our place?”

  “I think I can.” He didn’t sound all that sure.

  “Do you have any way to heat water?”

  Jake tightened his lips and shook his head.

  Determined not to nag, Emily said, “Stephie, fetch the thermos from under the sink, fill it with the hottest water. . .” As the mental list lengthened, she paused. “You know what? Why don’t you stay here and mind Jake?”

  Emily hoped it was all right to leave him. She flashed on him lying under that tree, afraid that image was going to haunt her for a long time. “While I’m gone, you get him a drink of water.”

  “Uh, maybe Stephie should go with you.” Jake was trying too hard to support Emily.

  “I think stranger-danger time is over. The only person you’re dangerous to is yourself, Jake. When’s the last time
you ate?”

  “I had a little breakfast.”

  “Nothing at dinner?” Emily clamped her mouth shut on the scolding.

  “The tree fell about the time I’d have quit for lunch.”

  “I’ll scrabble something together.”

  He smiled apologetically and shrugged his shoulders.

  She saw him wince, then she headed home at a run. She came back, packed like a mule. A cooler full of food and ice in one hand, in her other she pulled Stephie’s old little red wagon bearing a thermos of hot water, a first aid kit, a tiny camping stove, and the kerosene lantern they kept around in case of power outages.

  She cleaned and bandaged his arm, then quickly put together a hamburger and bean concoction and set it on the stove her parents had used for camping trips. While supper bubbled on the little stove setting just outside the back door, she and Stephie cleaned the kitchen. Then she spooned up food for Jake and Stephie. Her own churning stomach wouldn’t settle enough for her to eat.

  “I’m feeling almost human again.” Jake finished wolfing down his supper. “That was delicious.”

  “I think you’d better go to bed now.”

  “What kind of host goes to bed while he still has company?”

  Emily was relieved at his flash of spirit. “We’re going now. I have chores to do at home.” She thought of the two hours of hard work awaiting her just to do the bare minimum. “We’ll clear up the supper dishes. But you look done in. You need help getting upstairs?”

  “I sleep downstairs. I tossed a mattress on the floor.”

  “No sheets?”

  Jake snorted. “Women invented sheets. What are they for except to get dirty and feel guilty about because they aren’t washed?”

  If he had been at full strength she might have braced Jake about his rude attitude toward women. His exhaustion saved him. “So instead, your mattress gets dirty and it can’t be washed.”

  “When it gets too dirty, maybe I’ll put a sheet on it.”

  “Yuck. Fine, get into your grubby bed. You look done in, except for your mouth. That’s still at full strength.”