Riding the Storm

by Julie Miller

  Allowing the bull a moment to get used to his proximity, Nate clipped the three wires away from the nearest fence post. He positioned himself to avoid the dangerous barbs that snapped back like a rubber band once he’d eliminated the tension from the lines. “See? That’s a little better, isn’t it? Now be patient and I’ll get the other side.”

  Apparently the rapidly rising water had hidden a fence that dipped down into the arroyo and Rocky had either walked blindly into it or been swept against it. The rain had already loosened the sandy soil, and the bull had pulled a post from the bank, giving the lines just enough flexibility to entrap him.

  Nate sniffed the air as he tried to figure out the safest way to approach the animal. About the only advantage he could see was that the wire had wound around Rocky’s two left legs and caught on one horn, keeping the bull’s head turned back toward his distinctive Brahman hump. He might be trussed up enough to keep him from goring Nate while he worked.

  But Nate could still be crushed by the bull’s weight, struck by a flailing hoof. And without a rodeo clown to distract the bull, once those horns were free, Nate would have to get himself out of there pronto, in case Rocky chose vengeance over freedom.

  His decision made, Nate breathed in deeply, settling his nerves the way he used to do before dropping into the chute during his rodeo days. As quickly as he grounded himself, he knew he had to get things moving. The tang of salt in the wind stung his nose. It was the scent of the ocean—forty miles inland. It was Damon.

  “I need you to set a good example for Jolene.” Braced for the worst and still hoping for a miracle, Nate waded in. His knee throbbed like a bad omen as he made his way down the uneven slope to the bottom. His back and thighs were getting sore, compensating for the pain. “Show how you can be strong and still accept a little common sense help from a friend. Of course, you might not like me any better than she does. Called me Solomon like I’m some old fart. But I’m her friend. I’m your friend, too. And whether you like it or not, I’m going to do this for you.”

  The cold water buffeted Nate’s body from the chest down. His shoes were sinking into the muddy bottom. But he moved close enough to feel heat and smell the fear and panic emanating from Rocky’s body. Keeping one eye on his half-ton nemesis, Nate reached beneath the water, gripped a wire between its barbs and snipped it as he spoke. “I don’t expect you to thank me, I don’t expect you to owe me anything in return. But please,” he cut a second wire, “try not to hurt me any more than you have to. Surprisingly enough, I do feel pain.”

  Jolene’s muffled shout sounded like a whisper in his ear over the slap of the water, the snorts of the bull and the roar of the wind. “Are you talking him to death or setting him free? You’re using more words on him than you’ve said to me all day long.”

  Nate almost grinned. “See what I mean? So do me the favor?” He made another cut, freeing one leg. He dodged it as the bull kicked out. With room to maneuver now, Rocky hauled himself partway up the muddy bank. But…

  “Ah, hell.” Nate saw it coming. The current lifted him off his feet and pushed him forward just as Rocky slid back into the water. One taut strand of wire still curled around the bull’s horn, twisting his head back toward his shoulder.

  Toward Nate.

  Nate threw his arms back and kicked out, desperately trying to tread water and stop his forward momentum. He flipped over and tried to swim. But with a tool in his hand and a bum knee…

  “Nate?”

  Rocky bellowed. “Hell.” Nate whirled around. If he timed this right, he could free Rocky and the bull would climb instead of charge.

  Or Nate could wind up dead.

  “Move it!” he shouted, startling the bull just as his hand snagged the wire. Rocky yanked, jerking Nate right up out of the water. The bull came down. Nate cut.

  The wire snapped back as Rocky bolted free, the barbs tearing into Nate’s shoulder and snagging his jaw. “Son of a bitch.”

  “Nate!”

  Jolene screamed his name. It was the last thing he heard as the water surged around him and pulled him under.

  “NATE!”

  Before his coffee-dark hair disappeared under the water, Jolene had spurred her horse. With Checker in tow, she rode to the fence post closest to the arroyo, shouting at Rocky to keep him out of the water and away from Nate. Wherever he’d gone.

  Had Rocky crushed him when he’d come down off the bank?

  Had Nate’s knee given out?

  Was he drowning? Dead?

  Her fear was a powerful stimulant, erasing cold and fatigue in a single heartbeat.

  “Ee-yah!” She charged Sonny straight at the bull, turning him away from the arroyo. Nate’s cap flew off her head and was lost. She pursued Rocky just long enough to ensure he’d lost interest in the man who’d saved his ornery hide. Once she was certain he’d keep trotting north along the fence line, Jolene spun around and galloped back to the water.

  She’d dismounted and tied off both horses at the nearest fence post before she saw Nate surface again.

  “Nate!”

  “Damn wire.” He cursed again, then dove back under. Or was he pulled?

  Jolene shed her poncho and scrambled down into the ditch. Waist-deep, she grabbed her belly and shivered at the shock of cold water. “I’m sorry, baby. Be strong. Mommy has to help.”

  Nate spluttered to the surface again. His stern eyes locked on hers. “Get the hell out of here!”

  Not gonna happen. “What’s wrong?”

  He sank before he could answer.

  Jolene took a deep breath and dove into the rushing current.

  A pair of strong arms latched on to her and dragged her to the surface. “Jolene.”

  Blood. On his face and neck.

  “You’re hurt.”

  Nate gasped for breath. “Get out.”

  The current hit them, splashed over their heads and swept them under. Jolene kicked to the surface, pulling Nate with her.

  “The wire-cutters.” He spit water from his mouth, gulped down a quick breath. “I’m caught. Can’t reach them.”

  He grabbed her arm and shook his head when she tried to dive down to retrieve them. The water was too murky, too fast. The bottom was washing away beneath their feet. She’d never find them.

  But Jolene didn’t know how to quit. She turned and half jogged, half swam toward shore. “There’s another pair with the horses.”

  “Angel!” Whether it was a plea or a reprimand, she didn’t stop to listen.

  Jolene’s legs felt like lead weights by the time she’d climbed onto solid land. The rain and wind were coming so hard at her, it was impossible to tell the difference between swimming and running. Her fingers worked like stiff, robotic appendages, but she finally got the saddlebag open, pulled out the wire snips and hauled ass back to the water.

  “Nate?” She didn’t see him. Couldn’t hear him. “Nate?” She followed the path of the fence and stumbled into the water. A twinge of pain stabbed at the small of her back, but she ignored it. “Damn it, California, where are you?”

  He was not going to leave her.

  Just as quickly as her temper had flared and tears stung her eyes, Jolene rubbed her tummy. “Don’t listen to me, sweetie. We’re going to find him.”

  It was just enough comfort to keep her fighting.

  “Nate?”

  He popped to the surface, his bloody cheek the only thing visible as he spit and gurgled and got dragged back under. “Jo—”

  Running on sheer determination, Jolene dove beneath the water. She swam into the wall of his chest. After a startling blind grab at her breast, he cinched an arm around her waist, snugging the baby between them. He anchored her to him while she ran her palm across his neck and torso, searching for the wire. He wrapped his free hand around her fist and guided the snips toward his shoulder.

  His body jerked as she found the barbs embedded in his shoulder and chest. Her lungs burned for a breath of air. The muddy water chilled her to
the bone. But time was running out. He held her; she worked. The screams inside Jolene’s head were fading into a veil of fatigue and terror by the time she finally cut him loose.

  She felt the sudden give as the trap released him. Opening her mouth in shock, she swallowed water. Nate’s legs twisted with hers. Both arms came down around her and clutched her tight as he pushed off the bottom and thrust them both to the surface.

  Jolene gasped for breath and coughed against the collar of his shirt. His chest heaved, crushing against her own as they fought to draw in oxygen from the water-soaked air.

  “Oh, God, angel.” His lips brushed against her temple, and his labored breaths rushed past her ear. “Oh, God…Are you with me?…The baby?…Talk to me…Are you all right?”

  She was moving. But she wasn’t aware of walking. Nate was carrying her, tripping with her, dragging her out of the river and up the bank—crawling on his one good knee and pulling her along with him.

  He was hurting. She was spent. His breath was little more than a hiss in her ear. But he kept going.

  “Nate.” She tried to find her feet, but they wouldn’t function. They’d hit flat ground and he was still pulling her along with him. “Nate. Stop. Stop.”

  She bent her fingers into the shredded sleeve of his shirt and tugged. Or tripped him. She couldn’t tell which.

  All she knew was that she was sinking to the ground, shivering, exhausted, frightened for her baby and grateful to be alive.

  Grateful Nate was alive.

  Maybe not in one piece. But alive.

  Nate collapsed behind her. His arms stayed around her and he cuddled her close. They lay in the mud, her bottom nestled in the curve of his groin. With one broad hand he cupped her belly, placing his fingers over hers, shielding the tiny life she carried inside her. With the other arm he provided a pillow for her head, and he rested his cheek against hers.

  “Please tell me you and the baby are all right.” Jolene only had enough energy to nod, but she moved her hand, sandwiching his larger one between both of hers. His chest expanded in a deep breath and his body relaxed against hers. His lips tickled her ear. Was he smiling? Did Nate Kellison really smile? “I thought I told you to stay with the horses.”

  Jolene’s diaphragm shook with a silent laugh. “You’re welcome.”

  “I owe you one.”

  He wrapped himself around her, offering her warmth and strength and thanks as the rain pelted down and the wind swept the world right past them.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “LILY?” Jolene had to practically shout into her cell phone to be heard through the staticky connection. “Can you still hear me?”

  “Rocky’s really okay?” her friend asked again.

  Jolene picked up one of the towels she’d pulled from the linen closet and stuffed it into the windowsill beside her front door. Rain was already seeping in through every chink and hairline crack. Yesterday’s sunshine and clear blue skies seemed like a figment of her imagination.

  But she couldn’t really stop to think about the gloom or the damp or the endless whistles and roars of the wind or else she’d drop from exhaustion. Her back ached and her bare feet were swollen like wrinkled prunes after being stuck inside her wet boots for so long.

  She’d already started the water in the tub and pulled out all the pots and pitchers she could find so they’d have fresh water on hand in case the electricity went out and they lost the pumps, or rising floodwater contaminated the well.

  While she prepped the house, Nate was taking care of the livestock and the outbuildings. That had been the deal, the only way she’d convinced him he didn’t have to carry her into the house and tie her down to keep her from overextending herself again and possibly endangering little Joaquin.

  Jolene’s hand automatically went to her stomach, where Nate had shielded her and her baby from the elements. She’d mistakenly thought Nate was the strong, silent type. Of his strength, she had no question. He’d wrestled a bull, her, and the storm—and still had the temerity to boss her about.

  But Nate had also made her laugh. He’d saved her life more than once today. He’d saved her friends. He’d held her in his arms and shared his heat and whispered soothing comforts in her ear.

  And he’d kissed her like…like she was a woman.

  Not Mitch Kannon’s tomboyish daughter. Not Joaquin Angel’s brave widow. Not April Kannon’s plain, skinny little girl.

  A desirable woman.

  “Jolene?” Lily interrupted her thoughts. “Are you there?”

  Jolene was hugging the towels so tightly, trying to hold on to the memory, that her arms ached. She quickly shook herself and stuffed another towel around the windows. “Rocky’s fine. The horses, too.”

  If she’d had the energy to spare, Jolene might have grinned as she looked outside to the steel pen between the tall white barn and the tractor shed. The brown and white Santa Gertrudis bull, who’d nearly gotten them killed back at the arroyo, chomped on a mouthful of processed feed as Nate limped across the yard, leading Sonny and Checker into the barn for a quick, well-de-served rubdown. Her two dogs, Broody and Shasta, tagged along behind them, barking all the way.

  That arrogant son-of-a-cow stood there and watched the parade, as lazy and content as if they’d chased him the last half mile across the prairie to visit a spa instead of saving his life and steering him to shelter from the hurricane.

  “Don’t worry, Lily. We’ll keep him here at the Double J until after the storm. You’re sure everyone’s all right where you are? Did you hear from Gabe?”

  “Yes. He’s fine. He’s so excited about having a little girl. He’ll be staying at Mother’s until there’s an all-clear.” Jolene barely listened to Lily’s animated report. She was more focused on the dark-haired man whose knee was obviously giving him grief. The man who time and time again had put her needs and comforts before his own.

  Jolene ached for his pain—the physical as well as the demons he tried to keep such a tight rein on. Someone needed to take care of Nate for a change. Tend his wounds inside and out.

  Taking care of things was what Jolene did.

  That stray puppy longing locked up her heart and made her yearn to fix his pain.

  But that man? She cupped her tummy and felt something flutter, lower, beneath the baby. What could she really do for a man like Nate? A sexy, wounded, wise beyond his years man who stirred things inside her she’d never felt so intensely before?

  She’d never been in love, not even with Joaquin. They’d been best friends and she cared deeply for him. But she’d never known this funny tightness around her heart before. She’d never felt flushed or excited just looking at a man—wondering what he’d say next, wondering when he’d touch her again. She’d never tasted passion before Nate Kellison had kissed her.

  But she couldn’t be falling in love with him. Uh-uh. No way. She’d known him for less than a day.

  When he disappeared inside the barn, she was reminded that he’d be leaving once Hurricane Damon was said and done. Gone. Not a part of her life.

  Jolene nodded, agreeing with the little voice inside her head that had guided her for so many years. Nate’s just here to do his job. He has no reason to stay. Doctor his cuts and bruises if you want. Fill his stomach with good food. But send him on his way before he hurts you. Before you hurt yourself by caring for someone else who’s only going to leave.

  “Send him on his way,” she whispered out loud. It would be the smart thing to do.

  “What’s that?” Lily yawned, or maybe it was a post-partum sigh. But the sound matched Jolene’s somber mood. “Anyway, Amber is just so beautiful. So perfect. I wish I could reach Gabe again. I don’t want him to miss a moment with his little girl.”

  “The phone lines must be down all over the place. I’m sure he’ll call in as soon as he can.”

  “I hope so. What about you and Nate? Do you have the supplies you need to ride this one out?”

  Jolene and Nate.

 
Don’t even go there.

  “We’ll be just fine.” Static clogged the line again. The winds must be going after the cell towers now, interrupting relays and cutting service. “Listen, Lily. I have to hang up. I need to call Dad while I still can.”

  “Thanks for everything, Jolene. I mean it. Everything.”

  Jolene disconnected the call, punched in her father’s number and headed for the next window. Her home on the Double J was a true ranch house—a single-level, sprawling L-shaped stucco with four bedrooms and too many empty corners for one person to bang around in by herself.

  Joaquin had been the only child of older parents who’d spent their lives building this place. He’d grown up working the ample spread and had inherited the rich cattle land upon his parents’ death. But as the cancer made Joaquin sick and the bills mounted up, he’d sold off his herd and leased a portion of the land. Cattle still roamed the place, but they were someone else’s responsibility. Jolene lived alone, with only her horse, Jericho, the dogs, and a collection of barn cats for company. She tended her garden, painted her baby’s nursery, spoiled her father and wished she had more to do with her life.

  Like take care of Nate Kellison.

  “Damn it.” Oh, Lordy, she was going to get hurt again if she didn’t watch herself.

  “Jolene? Criminy, honey, are you all right?” Mitch Kannon’s gruff voice answered as soon as she’d cursed.

  “I’m fine, Dad. Soaked to the bone and tired. But I’m okay.”

  “Where are you? I didn’t think it’d take this long to hear from you. Is Kellison still with you?”

  Jolene quickly gave him the details of their situation, along with the condition of the washed-out roads, broken fence lines and flooding. She mentioned Nate’s injuries, their ride through the storm, and Rocky’s rescue—though she left out the part about going into the river to cut Nate free. She reckoned there were some things an already worried father didn’t need to know.

  “How long do you think it’ll be before it hits us, Dad?” she asked.

  “It’s only about a couple hours away now. The winds here are really picking up. We may have to evacuate to the school ourselves.”