Dude Ranch Bride

by Madeline Baker

  A blinding flash of lightning split the skies. There was the smell of ozone, then a loud crack as a tree off to her right burst into flame. Jilly reared and came down running. Cindy pulled back on the reins, but the mare had the bit in her teeth and took off in a dead run, streaking across a stretch of open prairie. Wind and rain stung Cindy’s eyes and whipped her hair into her face. Her hat went flying, blown away by a fierce gust.

  Her legs clamped to the mare’s sides, Cindy clutched the saddle horn in a death grip, praying that the horse wouldn’t slip on the wet grass or step in a hole.

  She pulled on the reins again, but to no avail. The horse had been royally spooked and wasn’t about to stop. Clinging to the pommel as though it was a lifeline, Cindy could only hang on and pray that the mare knew her way home, that they would get there in one piece.

  The prairie gave way to a wooded slope. As the mare lost her footing, Cindy screamed and toppled out of the saddle sideways, crying out as she hit her head against a fallen branch. The mare slid down the muddy slope on her haunches, gained her feet and took off running again.

  Cindy lay there for a moment, too stunned to move, her head throbbing. Gradually, she became aware of a sharp pain in her right ankle. Feeling sick to her stomach, she sat up. When she touched the side of her head, her fingers came away covered with blood.

  Ethan slept late and woke in a foul mood. He dressed in a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, pulled on his moccasins, settled his hat on his head. Going into his kitchen, he looked around, then decided to go up to the lodge for a cup of George’s coffee.

  He nodded at a handful of guests hurrying up to the lodge. There was a storm brewing. He could smell the rain in the air. The weather suited his mood perfectly, he thought. In the dining room, he found a table in the back near a window and sat down.

  Millie Brown sashayed up to his table. “We’ve got waffles or bacon and eggs for breakfast.” She poured him a cup of coffee. She was a pretty girl, with curly red hair, brown eyes and a ready smile. She had been working at the ranch about eight months, and made no secret of the fact that she wanted to go out with him. But so far he’d shied away from asking her out. Once burned, twice shy.

  After ordering, Ethan picked up his coffee cup and took a sip. Against his will, he found himself thinking of Cindy, wondering where she was, what she was doing. He glanced around the room, but there was no sign of her. Had she had breakfast yet? Glancing outside, he saw that the sky had turned dark. Lightning flashed in the distance. He’d have to cancel the afternoon trail ride.

  “You’re late,” Dorothea said, coming up behind him.

  “Yeah.” He jerked his chin at the chair across from his. “Join me?”

  She smiled as she sat down. “Something troubling you, Nephew?”

  He glowered at her. “No, why?” It was raining now, the first light drops spattering against the window.

  Dorothea shook her head. She was a tall, angular woman with brown hair and blue eyes. She had never been pretty, yet she had aged well. For all her years, there was no gray in her hair, and there was still a spring in her step. She’d been running the ranch by herself since her husband, Ethan’s uncle, had died two years before.

  “Don’t lie to me, young man. I’ve known you your whole life. Now, what’s stuck in your craw?” She studied him through narrowed eyes when he didn’t answer. “Can only be one of two things,” she mused. “Money or a woman. I’m guessing it’s the latter.”

  Ethan swore softly. His aunt saw too much by half.

  Millie set a plate in front of Ethan, then looked over at Dorothea. “Can I bring you anything, Mrs. Donovan?”

  “No, thanks, Millie.” Dorothea waited until the waitress left the table, then leaned forward. “It’s time you put the past behind you, Nephew. You need to go out once in a while. Why don’t you ask Millie out? It’s easy to see the girl’s crazy about you.”

  “Dorothea. . .”

  “You’re my kin,” she interjected. “That gives me the right to interfere. I don’t like seeing you keep to yourself so much. If you’re not interested in Millie, why don’t you cozy up to that pretty Miss Wagner?”

  At the mention of Cindy’s name, Ethan almost choked on his coffee.

  “I know she’s only here for a short time,” Dorothea added, “but what could it hurt to take her out to dinner and a movie?”

  “Speaking of Miss Wagner, have you seen her this morning?”

  “Why, no, I haven’t,” Dorothea said, beaming at him. “She probably slept late. I’ll bet she’d love to take in a movie. You ask her now, hear?”

  Blowing out a sigh of exasperation, Ethan pushed away from the table. If there was one thing he didn’t need, it was a matchmaker. “I’ll see you later.”

  The rain was coming down harder now. Ethan hunched his shoulders and sprinted across the yard toward the cabins, wondering what possible excuse he could give Cindy for showing up at her bungalow. She had made it perfectly clear she wouldn’t welcome his company, and he for damn sure didn’t want to get tangled up with her again. So what was he doing standing here in the rain, knocking on her door?

  He waited a moment, then knocked again, louder. Surely she wasn’t still in bed at this hour? It was after eleven.

  Frowning, he put his hand on the knob and gave it a turn. The door opened and he poked his head through the doorway. “Cindy?”

  Even as he called her name, he knew the cabin was empty. He had always been able to sense when she was around, and she wasn’t here.

  Closing the door, he walked over to the game room. Due to the rain, the place was crowded. Kids were playing video and board games; a few were watching cartoons.

  The adults were reading, or playing cards, or just chatting. There was no sign of Cindy.

  He checked the laundry room, stopped by her cabin again and then headed for the barn.

  Rudy looked up from the horse he was grooming. “Hey, Ethan, don’t suppose we’ll be doing any riding today.”

  “No. Have you seen Miss Wagner?”

  “Not since yesterday. Hey, Alex, have you seen Miss Wagner?”

  The teenage boy Dorothea had hired for the summer poked his head out of the tack room in the back of the barn. “I don’t know her name, but some lady came in this morning and took one of the horses out.”

  “What did she look like?”

  Alex smiled. “She was real pretty, with long black hair and—”

  “You let her go out alone?” Ethan asked sharply.

  “Well, she said she was just gonna ride around the yard, so I . . . “

  Ethan glanced at his watch. “How long ago did she leave?”

  Alex shrugged. “A couple hours, I guess. Why?”

  Ethan swore under his breath. “What horse did she take?”

  “I put her up on Jilly.”

  Ethan glanced at Jilly’s stall. It was empty.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Stormwalker.”

  “You think she’s in trouble?” Rudy asked.

  “I don’t know. . . .” Ethan’s voice trailed off as he heard the muffled sound of hoofbeats. Glancing past Rudy, he swore under his breath as Jilly trotted into the barn.

  Ethan grabbed the mare’s reins. “Easy, girl.” His gaze moved quickly over her, checking for signs of injury.

  “She doesn’t look hurt,” Rudy said.

  “No. Rudy, go up to the lodge and tell Millie to pack me some grub. Enough for a day or two. Alex, you get me a couple of blankets and a first aid kit. And don’t say anything to Dorothea. No sense worrying her until we know there’s something to worry about.”

  Alex hurried out of the barn.

  “You think the woman’s hurt?” Rudy asked.

  “I don’t know.” Ethan thrust the mare’s reins into Rudy’s hand. “I’m going over to my place to grab a jacket and some gloves. If you get back here before I do, throw the grub in my saddlebags, will ya? Oh, and look after the buckskin till I get back.”

  “Sure.”

 
Ethan saddled Dakota, then rode over to his place. Inside, he donned a heavy sheepskin jacket, changed his moccasins for boots, grabbed a pair of fur-lined gloves, a flashlight, matches, a change of clothes and his rifle. He paused a moment, then, certain he had everything he needed, went outside. He slid the rifle into the saddle boot, then swung onto Dakota’s back. Wolf whined low in his throat.

  “Come on, boy,” Ethan said.

  Rudy and Alex were waiting for him when he got back to the barn. Rudy had packed his saddlebags. Dismounting, Ethan checked the contents, then secured them behind the cantle.

  Swinging into the saddle, he pulled on his gloves and rode out of the barn.

  He made one more stop before leaving the ranch. Going to Cindy’s cabin, he found one of her T-shirts and let Wolf sniff it.

  “Find her for me,” he said. Giving in to temptation, he buried his face in the soft cotton. “Please let her be all right,” he murmured, and tucking the shirt inside his jacket, he left the cabin.

  Outside, he swung into the saddle and took up the reins. Dakota shook his head against the rising wind, then broke into an easy trot. Wolf loped alongside.

  Ethan swore under his breath as lightning ripped the skies. He hoped to hell he would find Cindy on the trail, walking back to the ranch, but that hope gradually died as more and more miles went by. Something was wrong. He knew it. Felt it deep in his gut. What the devil had possessed her to take off on her own? He would have bet money she had more sense than to go riding so far from the ranch with a storm brewing. With every passing mile, his sense of dread increased. Damn, anything could happen to a woman riding out here alone. She could have been thrown, could have fallen over a cliff and broke her neck. Could have been bit by a snake, mauled by a bear. . . .

  He felt a sudden coldness in the pit of his stomach when he found her hat lying on the prairie, flattened by the rain. It was an omen, he thought. A bad one.

  Cindy sank down on a log, her hands lightly massaging her ankle. She was wet clear through and chilled to the bone. She had tried walking for a little while, but she hadn’t made much progress, and the prospect of slipping in the mud and injuring her ankle even more was all too real. Besides, she had no way of knowing if she was even going in the right direction. She seemed to remember reading somewhere that if you got lost in the woods, you should just sit down and wait for someone to find you. And right now, with her head pounding and her ankle throbbing like Lakota war drums, that seemed like good advice.

  If only it would stop raining. She hunched over, shivering uncontrollably while the storm raged all around her. She had never been so cold and miserable in her whole life. Or so scared. What if no one came looking for her? She dismissed the thought as soon as it was born. Of course someone would come looking for her. . . . Ethan would come. She knew it as surely as she knew she was hopelessly lost.

  She wondered how long she had been gone and how long it would take before someone missed her. An hour? Two? Three? She looked up at the sky. Years ago, Ethan had taught her to tell time by the sun, but that was impossible now. What time was it? What if no one came? The thought of spending the night in the open, in the dark, sent a chill down her spine. For all that this was the twenty-first century, there were still wild animals in this part of the country. Wolves. Coyotes. Bears. Snakes.

  She shook off her fanciful thoughts. Jilly would go back to the ranch and someone would come looking for her.

  Her head jerked up as she heard what sounded like a wolf howling. And then she had the strangest feeling that Ethan was nearby. Eyes narrowed, she peered into the pouring rain and suddenly he was there, riding toward her on horseback, his big dog beside him.

  “Cindy!” He was on the ground and running toward her before his horse had stopped moving.

  She had never been so happy to see anyone in her whole life.

  He knelt in front of her. “Are you all right?”

  She nodded, tears of relief pouring down her cheeks.

  “Come on.” He took her by the arm and lifted her to her feet. “Let’s get out of here.”

  She cried out as she put weight on her right foot.

  “What is it?” he asked, his brow lined with concern.

  “My ankle. I guess I sprained it when Jilly threw me.”

  “You were thrown?” His gaze moved over her. “Do you hurt anywhere else?”

  “My head. Here.”

  His fingers gently probed the egg-size lump on the back of her skull, and then he swung her into his arms, lifted her onto the back of his horse and climbed up behind her.

  Taking up the reins, he clucked to the gelding.

  Cindy leaned back against Ethan, her head resting on his shoulder. He had come for her and there was nothing more to fear. Even the pain in her head seemed less severe, now that he was here, her knight in shining armor.

  She was half-asleep when he reined the horse to a halt. Opening her eyes, she looked around. “Where are we?”

  He slid over Dakota’s rump. Removing the saddlebags from behind the cantle, along with two blankets rolled in plastic, he slung them over his shoulder, then came around and lifted her into his arms. “We’re going to stay here until the storm passes.”

  “Here? Here where?” she asked, and then she saw it, a small square building neatly camouflaged by towering trees and brush.

  He climbed the two steps to the covered porch. The door creaked loudly when he opened it. “Wolf, stay.”

  The dog whined softly, then dropped down on its belly.

  Carrying Cindy inside, Ethan closed the door.

  “Will your dog be all right out there?” she asked.

  “He’s used to it.”

  “What is this place?”

  “It belongs to the ranch. We use it during hunting season.”

  “Oh.”

  Ethan lowered her to the cot in the corner and in no time at all had a cheery fire going in the hearth.

  “Let’s get you out of those wet clothes,” he said.

  As cold and wet as she was, she had no desire to undress in front of him.

  “Here.” He reached into his jacket and withdrew her T-shirt, then pulled a warm flannel shirt out of his saddlebags, along with a pair of thick wool socks. “You can wear these.” He removed the plastic from the blankets. “And wrap up in one of these.”

  She stared up at him, unmoving.

  “Don’t worry, you can change while I look after my horse.” And so saying, he went outside.

  Dakota stood with his head down, his back to the wind. Taking up the reins, Ethan led the gelding to the lean-to in the back. Wolf trailed at his heels. He tied the gelding to a post with a rope he found hanging on a nail, then stripped the rigging from the horse and set it aside. Using a piece of old toweling, he dried the gelding as best he could, then took up the saddle, bridle and blanket and carried them into the shack.

  Silent as a shadow, Wolf followed his master back to the cabin, then stretched out beside the door.

  Taking a deep breath, Ethan entered the shack. Cindy had changed clothes. She was sitting on the bed with her back against the wall, the blanket draped around her shoulders. She looked mighty appealing sitting there, with her bare legs peeking from under the hem of his shirt. He noticed she had spread her wet clothes over the back of a chair in front of the fire.

  Ethan removed his hat and hung it on a peg beside the door, then shrugged out of his jacket and draped it over one of the other chairs.

  She was watching him, waiting, he thought, to see if he was going to take off his T-shirt and jeans. He pulled off his boots and socks and T-shirt, but kept his pants on.

  Glancing at her from the corner of his eye, he almost laughed aloud at the look of relief on her face.

  Opening one of the saddlebags, he pulled out a thermos of hot coffee, poured a cup and handed it to her. After one sip, she looked as if she had died and gone to heaven.

  “I’d better check your ankle,” he said.

  “Don’t tell me you’re
a doctor, too?”

  “Heap big medicine man,” he replied, grinning faintly.

  She bit down on her lower lip as he examined her foot and ankle.

  “I’m no expert, but I don’t think it’s broken,” he remarked. “Still, you’ve got a bad sprain there.”

  She winced when he ran his fingers over the bump on her head.

  He grunted softly. “You might have a concussion.”

  “It hurts like the devil.”

  “I’m not surprised.” Reaching into his saddlebag again, he withdrew the first aid kit. Rummaging inside, he found a bottle of aspirin. He opened the bottle and shook two tablets into her hand. Reaching into his saddlebag yet again, he pulled out a bottle of water and offered it to her.

  “Thanks.”

  After she swallowed the aspirin, he took an elastic bandage from the kit and wrapped it around her ankle. “Are you hungry?”

  When she nodded, he pulled a couple of sandwiches out of his saddlebags. “We’ve got ham and cheese or roast beef,” he said, holding them up.

  “Ham, please.”

  He handed her one of the sandwiches, then went to stand in front of the fireplace in hopes of drying out his jeans. They ate in silence, passing the coffee cup back and forth between them.

  Cindy glanced around. There wasn’t much to see. Aside from the bed, there was the chair Ethan sat in, a small square table that looked like it had come from the bargain basement at the Goodwill, the two chairs holding their clothes, a stove, a cupboard and a dusty elk head over the fireplace.

  By the time she finished eating, she could scarcely keep her eyes open.

  “I don’t think you should go to sleep,” Ethan said, frowning.

  “I have to. I’m so tired.” She stretched out on the cot. “Just for a little while. . .”

  A moment later, she was asleep.

  Ethan covered her with the other blanket, then pulled the chair closer to the cot and sat down. Maybe she was just tired, he thought, but maybe that bump on her head was worse than he thought.

  He was more worried about her than he wanted to admit. Going to the window, he stared out into the gathering darkness. For a moment, he debated the wisdom of trying to get back to the ranch, but then dismissed the idea. It was still raining. The trail would be treacherous now, especially at the first river crossing, which was most likely flooded.