In the midst of such upheaval, something else—something unexpected—registered with Laurel. Somehow, Louemma had managed to wind her hands in Coal Fire’s long mane. Right now she was holding on for dear life. It meant Louemma had raised her arms.
If circumstances had been different, Laurel’s heart would be filled with joy. Instead, all she could do was pray that they, and her poor horses, got out of this ordeal alive.
ALAN REACHED A BEND in the river marked by twin poplars, now leaning at a forty-five degree angle in the wind. This out-crop was significant in that it was the first of the two places where he might ford the swollen creek.
Many shallows along the tumbling watercourse fell away into deep sinkholes where he remembered swimming as a kid with friends like Pete Madison. This particular spot and one other didn’t have a treacherous silt bottom. Rather, the bottom here sloped gently, boasting a mix of limestone and shale. Just for the hell of it, Alan, Pete and a group of friends used to drive ATVs across the stream on sultry hot summer days. A half mile down on the other side, the boys would strip and swim in one of the deepest holes around. They’d let the sun dry their damp shirts and pants, and then, refreshed, drive to the last point possible to cross back to this side.
Alan had hoped he could cross here now. With the trees marking the sandbar, even in the dark, this was the most easily identifiable crossing. Of course, during summer and in daylight, fording wasn’t risky. Tonight, the creek had more than jumped its banks.
Gritting his teeth, Alan eased the front tires of the Jeep into the rushing water. He hadn’t gone two feet when cold muddy water lapped over his door and swirled across the floorboards, soaking his feet. Shoving the vehicle into Reverse, he threw an arm over his seat back and hauled ass out of there as fast as he could.
Drenched with sweat, Alan thanked his lucky stars that the Jeep’s motor hadn’t died and left him stranded. On the other hand, he hadn’t even made it to midstream. Now he didn’t know whether to drive on down to the next shallow spot, hoping against hope that he’d have better luck. Or should he park and take his chances swimming? That plan continued to claw at the back of his mind. Suddenly, cut logs—a lot of them—bobbed past on frothy waves. Waves that were far from normal for a six-foot-wide, one-foot-deep creek.
A piece of equipment belonging to the construction crew rolled along in the wake of the logs. “Dammit,” Alan mumbled. What if he’d decided to swim and he’d encountered that debris? It would’ve killed him instantly.
His concern for the safety of his daughter and Laurel grew that much more intense.
Wasting no time, he jammed the Jeep’s transmission into first, then second, then third gear. Call him crazy, but he wanted to beat the next batch of rubble to the last shallows.
Arriving at what he guessed was the right spot, Alan lamented that he’d now have to travel a mile to Laurel’s cottage on foot.
He tested the bank with his front wheels and did his best to tear his eyes from the seething water lit only by his headlamps. Something big hit the back of his Jeep, throwing him sideways. He opened his door, fully prepared to leap out.
The engine coughed, sputtered, coughed again and caught. His tires found purchase on something hard beneath the roiling surface. Keeping slow and steady pressure on the gas pedal, he moved forward. It seemed an eternity, but at last he emerged unscathed on the opposite shore.
Preparing to drive up a trail that really wasn’t meant for cars, but which he felt confident his four-wheel-drive Jeep could navigate, he saw what looked like a head bobbing in the creek.
Leaving his Jeep, he climbed onto the hood and shone his industrial light down from above. His heart stilled as he recognized one of Laurel’s horses, apparently swimming, or trying to swim, but looking wild-eyed and tuckered out.
Alan didn’t think twice. He kicked off his boots, ripped off his jacket and made a low dive off the bank, aiming to head off the animal. He misjudged how fast the creek was moving, and came up directly in front of the horse. Already scared, the mare snapped her teeth shut on his left arm, in the fleshy part below his shoulder.
Alan flailed out with his good arm. Twice he missed the bridle. Because the pain in his left arm was so great, he was afraid he might lose consciousness and fail in his rescue attempt, after all. Through force of will his next lunge for the trailing reins was successful. His left arm hung nearly useless as he kicked hard with his legs. He was miraculously able to guide the animal to shore some hundred yards downstream from where he’d left his Jeep on a knoll.
The mare managed to get her legs under her. She was able to scrabble out onto a slab of limestone, and both man and horse lunged as quickly as they could up the bank, where they stood stiff-legged, gulping in huge drafts of air. Alan made sure he kept a firm grip on the wet reins as he stumbled back along the shore, with water lapping at their feet. He had barely enough strength to secure the shaking horse to the bumper of his Jeep. Then he fell to his knees and retched until nothing was left of the muddy water in his lungs.
It was after he’d emptied his stomach that Alan realized the mare was saddled. His brain refused to contemplate the implication. Needing something to do, even with one arm hurting like hell and hanging limp, Alan uncinched the saddle. He dumped it, along with a loom and two heavy tapestry bags, straight into the back of his vehicle.
His teeth chattered from the wind striking his drenched clothing. Not knowing what to do next, he debated whether to attempt driving or to mount the horse and ride bareback up the trail. All the while, his eyes strained for any glimpse of other bobbing heads. If the mare was saddled and carrying things that belonged to Laurel, it could only mean she’d been forced to leave her cottage. Alan’s chest squeezed in pain.
And what about Louemma? She was scared out of her mind even glimpsing a horse. Had Laurel tried to get his daughter to ride, and she’d somehow fallen? No, Alan refused to consider it.
What eventually decided him, outside of an urgency to do something, was the fact that the muddy path in front of him narrowed as it entered a thick copse of beech trees. Alan’s love and concern won out over his doubts. And he had plenty of reason, for doubt, including a weary mare and an arm that had begun to bleed and throb.
Uttering a silent prayer that the pregnant horse wasn’t as spent as she seemed, he led her to a stump and managed in one try to haul himself aboard her wide back. Without delay, he urged her up the trail.
Deeper in the trees, the wind was less fierce. In places, the ground appeared less muddy. Still, the mare stumbled. Alan patted her steamy wet neck, bent low over her and coaxed her by whispering in her ear. “Help me find Laurel and Louemma, girl. Don’t fail me now and I guarantee you all the hay, oats and carrots you and your foal can eat from now through eternity.”
To himself, Alan vowed that if he found them safe, there would be no more accusations to do with land, no more worry about alienated affections, no stall tactics of any kind. Laurel Ashline belonged with him. She belonged with Louemma. If she truly couldn’t reconcile herself to his profession, then by God he’d dump his shares in Windridge. He’d sell his interests, down to the last red cent.
Perhaps the longest five minutes of his life passed as he sped over familiar land on an unfamiliar horse.
All at once the mare’s ears shot forward. She neighed excitedly, and next thing Alan knew, a dog barked somewhere up ahead in the blackness. He reined in abruptly, straining to hear a second bark, hoping against hope that he hadn’t imagined it.
Sure enough, a series of deep woofs drifted toward him from farther up the trail. “Dog…Dog!” Alan shouted hoarsely. “Laurel! Laurel, are you out there? It’s Alan! Oh, God, can you hear me?” he screamed, redoubling his efforts.
The German shepherd loped into view. Behind him came the sound of a heavier animal pounding along the trail. Branches cracked and broke, and Alan’s mount danced right, then left, neighing in confusion.
There was another duller, more ominous rumble that Alan could
n’t identify. All at once, a huge dark horse hove into sight, running at breakneck speed. Alan feared the animal would collide with his mare. About to slide off her, he checked himself and grabbed instead for the horse about to thunder past. It took all the strength in his good arm to hold the bigger, heavier gelding.
Laurel saw Alan as Coal Fire reared. She shouted his name. “Alan! I’m so happy to see you! But we have to get off this trail. We’re trying to outrun a mudslide,” she panted. “We’re only moments ahead of it.”
“Daddy, Daddy,” Louemma screeched. “Laurel promised to find you, and she did! She did.”
“Turn,” Alan yelled, more than alarmed. “Uphill to your right,” he commanded, as old habits clicked into place. Merely verifying that Laurel and Louemma were alive made him happier than he’d ever been.
Laurel didn’t question his orders as she might have under other circumstances. Her arms ached horribly from hanging on to Louemma and from gripping the reins on a horse that could falter at any moment.
Using what breath she had left, she whistled for Dog, and hoped he’d hear her and come back. If it hadn’t been for him—well, who knew what would’ve happened to them at the cottage.
The big dog streaked out of the trees and barked wildly at his mistress.
“Keep angling up and left,” Alan called insistently. He hated to let go of the gelding’s bridle, but with the rocky terrain he had to. They were all breathing hard. It wasn’t easy to speak, but he tried to explain anyway “There’s a series of caves along a narrow bluff. We’ll be safe there if we can find them. Pete, Joe and I used to play there as kids. If the opening hasn’t grown over, I think the outer chamber’s big enough for us to squeeze inside with the horses.”
“Will the mud cover the opening and seal us in?” Laurel shouted as Alan urged them ever higher up the dark, uneven slope.
The severe pain stabbing in his arm stole Alan’s ability to answer.
It was Dog who found the entrance. They would never know if he’d stumbled on it by accident, or if he was imbued with some survival instinct that led him to it. Either way, they would always and forever hail him as their hero.
Barking, the mud-spattered dog paced back and forth at the opening. He jumped aside as Laurel and then Alan rode into the dark slash in the hillside. Laurel, first in, startled a hundred or so bats that had probably returned home to wait out the storm.
Wings flapped so near their heads and near the ears of the horses as the bats flew out that the skittish mare bared her teeth and snapped ineffectually at one of the low-flying mammals.
“Ugh, Daddy, it stinks in here,” Louemma shrieked. She turned and hid her head in Laurel’s chest.
Fumbling for her flashlight, Laurel switched it on. She played the light over the ceiling and saw they’d apparently displaced all of the cave’s former occupants.
Alan slid off the mare. He rushed up to Coal Fire and tumbled Laurel and Louemma out of the saddle and into his arms. He made no apology for his tears. And he couldn’t seem to stop stroking first one wet head and then the other with his good hand. Nor could he stop raining kisses over their beloved faces. The arm Cinnabar had bitten hung loose at his side, so Alan could only hug them awkwardly.
It wasn’t until Laurel’s muffled voice drew his attention to the fact that Louemma had flung her arms around Alan’s waist that he realized his daughter was the one hugging him back so tightly.
All their excited talk was cut short as a rush of mud rumbled past the entrance, and they held their breath. It wasn’t long before they discovered Alan’s predictions had been correct. The roaring, hissing, vibrating river of mud didn’t quite rise to the level of the limestone caves.
“Alan, my God, your jacket sleeve is soaked with blood.” Laurel felt him wince as she turned away from the cave mouth, accidentally bumping his left arm with her flashlight as she did.
“Horse bite,” he muttered, bending to lay his cheek on Louemma’s head. And before Laurel got out another word about his injury, he pressed his lips to her soft mouth. Feeling her return his kiss was all Alan needed to revive his flagging spirits. Lifting his head, he scraped back her soaking, stringy hair and smiled into her upturned face. “I don’t even know where to begin. How did you get Louemma to ride with you? How come she’s able to hug me? Tell me this part’s real and not just a dream.”
“It’s no dream,” Laurel assured him, although she mopped at tears she couldn’t keep from shedding. “Louemma, sweetie, tell your father what you said back at the cottage when you didn’t want to get on Coal Fire. At first, I didn’t understand, but as we were trying to outrun the mudslide, I think my brain figured out what you’ve been holding inside, honey.” She propped the big flashlight on a ledge so that it illuminated the chamber.
Louemma’s fingers stroked the fur on Dog’s head, and she buried her face against her father’s waist.
Laurel went down on one knee. She pried the girl’s face away. “You need to tell him, okay? Please? You’re so brave, I know you can. Remember, we were on the porch?” Laurel knew a little about purging trauma, yet she couldn’t bring herself to meet Alan’s confused eyes. “Louemma, you mentioned your mom, and…a man. A man who had horses.”
“Doug,” Alan murmured, his lips thinned.
Louemma nodded. “I ’member. Mama said we hadda go live with that man. He rode horses at the racetrack. We saw Doug lots, and I didn’t like him ’cause he kept kissing Mama. That day—the day I got hurt—she made me go. She said I wasn’t ever going to see you again, Daddy.” Louemma sucked in trembling lips, and tears streamed from her eyes. “I cried and cried. I couldn’t stop. Mama turned around and said for me to hush. I know she was mad. Then the car went sideways, and backward, and spinned around and around. And—and she went to heaven to live with Grandpapa Jason. I did it, Daddy. I made her wreck the car. I’m sorry, but I didn’t want to leave you forever. I didn’t.” She threw both arms around Alan and hugged him twice as hard as before.
“Oh, Louemma.” Alan sank down next to Laurel, all the while clutching his daughter with his good arm. “You didn’t make Mama wreck her car. Her tires hit ice on the road. And there was fog. It was a true accident. Louemma, it wasn’t your fault. And…I’d never, never have let her take you away from me for good. I’m the one she was trying to hurt by saying that. Not you. But I promise your mother and I always loved you very much. You were the best thing in our lives, honeybee.”
“Are you sure, Daddy?”
“Positive. Absolutely.” Alan’s eyes lifted to connect with Laurel’s. He steeled himself against her pity; after all, his wife had been leaving him for another man. What he saw reflected in her gaze was love and admiration. It gave him hope. Allowed him to say what he hadn’t been able to until now.
“Laurel, today I learned there are only two things important to me in this whole world. Louemma and you. Well, and Grandmother, of course. I want—I’d like… Uh, will you—?” He fumbled for the words. His attempt to express his feelings was halted by Dog, who set up a commotion at the cave entrance.
Alan grabbed his flashlight and they all rushed to look. What they saw was Laurel’s horse shed sliding by. Horrified, they stared down on the shingled roof. That worrisome sight was followed closely by Laurel’s front porch, ripped from its concrete mooring.
Alan slipped an arm around her waist. Cradling her and Louemma tight against him, he said in a gruff voice, “I’m trying—not very successfully—to ask you to be my wife, Laurel. You and Louemma are all that’s important to me. Everything—and I mean everything—is replaceable. Spinning wheels, looms, cottages, antiques—or my occupation.”
Laurel clung to Alan, loving his solidness. Loving his strength. “You can’t mean you’d give up Windridge for me,” she said. “It’s your heritage, and Louemma’s.”
“Oh, but I do mean it, sweetheart. You have only to say the word and we’ll start our lives anew. Provided you can get past my bullheadedness. God, how I’ve missed you. You tried
to get me to go and see what the construction crew had done. If we’re assigning blame, then it’s mine that you’ve lost your family treasures.”
She leaned her head on his good shoulder. “Treasures are nice, Alan. But all I’ve ever wanted—ever really wanted—is a family to love me. One I could love in return. I feel bad about losing Hazel’s scrapbooks of historical patterns, but it’s nothing compared to my fear that I might fail you. If I’d let something terrible happen to Louemma… I love her so much, Alan. And I love you.”
“When the storm blows out, maybe we can still salvage something from your cottage, Laurel. We’ve only seen your shed and the porch. Those cottages were built on strong foundations.”
“It’s okay,” she said, placing her fingers over his lips. “Either way, the patterns are lost. I tried to save them by tying them to Cinnabar’s saddle. Her saddle’s gone. I didn’t cinch it very tight because of her pregnancy. I’m just so thankful she made it out alive. I want her to have her foal. Babies equal new beginnings, don’t you think?”
“You tied Hazel’s scrapbooks to Cinnabar’s saddle?” Alan smiled for the first time. “Sweetheart, maybe the patterns are safe. I removed Cinnabar’s saddle and tossed it in the back of my Jeep. I noticed a loom and two knitting bags. I never took time to look inside. If my Jeep survives the mudslide, and it might because I parked on a knoll, we might salvage those things.” He hugged her, his smile giving way to earnestness. “When we were talking before…were you, uh, saying yes to my question? I mean—”
Laurel grasped his face between her hands. She kissed him hard, smiling through her tears. “Yes, yes, yes to everything. Well, almost everything. I won’t ask you to give up Windridge. I was such a stubborn fool. I knew I loved you the day I thought I’d lost you. The day you said Louemma couldn’t stay at my house anymore.”
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