The lightning, splitting the sky in jagged bolts, scared Emmy almost as badly as Wayne did. Close by, the cattle increased their uneasy lowing. Emmy understood their frightened bellows. She wouldn’t mind bellowing herself.
A few feet away, Cuddy had gone motionless. Emmy discreetly fought against her ropes, longing to be free so she could go to him, make sure he was all right, and huddle beside him until the storm passed.
“S’matter, little gal?”
Heart leaping, she jerked toward the voice in her ear. Wayne had slithered up to crouch at her side. She leaned away from his putrid breath and didn’t answer, so he ran his filthy finger down her cheek. Cringing, she turned her head until her neck muscles strained.
Angered, he gripped her jaw and pressed his mouth to her ear. Lifting the knife, he swiveled the blade in front of her face. “You be nice to me and you’ll come out of this in one piece. Keep thinking you’re better’n me, and I’ll make things very uncomfortable.” He gave her face a harsh shake, his fingers biting into her flesh. “Be a good girl now and give me a sign that you understand.”
She swallowed a cry of pain and tried to nod.
His cold laughter mocked her. “That’s more like it, darlin’.” He pressed against her, wrapping his arms around her waist to fumble with the ropes. A chill gripped her spine when his fetid breathing quickened. “I’m going to cut you loose for a little bit. How’s that?”
Emmy’s stomach lurched. “Why?”
“I thought you might like to take a little walk.”
“Señor, please.”
Wayne glanced back at the kind-faced man by the fire. “What do you want?” he growled.
“Don’t hurt the lady, señor.”
Wayne leaped up and struck with the speed of a striking rattler, his blow so brutal Emmy gasped and turned away. Concern quickly brought her eyes to the front again.
Bright red blood flowed from a gash on her defender’s cheek. She first thought Wayne had slashed the helpless man with his knife, until he cleaned the butt of the knife on his shirt. “Maybe next time you’ll mind your own business.”
He spun around to Emmy with an air of nonchalance. “Now then, little lady ... where were we?”
***
Diego crawled backward to the end of the wagon and dropped to the ground. “He has no fever, Mrs. Dane. That’s a good sign. But you’d best get him on to Carrizo Springs.”
The women huddled together, their skirts flapping wildly in the wind. Mrs. Dane latched onto his arm. “What do you mean? Aren’t you coming with us?”
“You’ll be fine. Just stay on this road. It’ll lead you straight into town.”
“Where are you going? To look for Emmy?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He nodded behind her. “Starting among your friends there.”
Mrs. Dane clung so tightly, her fingers pinched Diego’s flesh. “I’m going with you.”
¡Ay! Where had he heard that before? He released a heavy sigh. “You can’t, Mrs. Dane. I’ll be down on my belly, crawling through the grass.”
“I don’t care. I’m going.”
“Magda, don’t be silly,” Mrs. Bloom said, flapping her thin hands in Mrs. Dane’s face. “You ain’t laid flat of your belly in twenty years. Besides, there’s too much of you to hide.”
Mrs. Dane puffed like a porcupine and shook a stern finger at Mrs. Bloom. “You hush, Bertha. My baby might be back there.”
“If she is, this young feller is just the one to save her. You’ll only get in the way.”
Diego breathed a prayer of thanksgiving for Mrs. Bloom. “Your friend’s right, ma’am. Concentrate on getting your husband to a doctor.”
“But—”
“If she’s in that camp, which is highly unlikely, I’ll get her for you.” He flexed his jaw. “Don’t doubt it for a minute.”
The sound of hooves on the road behind them sent the women crowding against him in the darkness. He laughed softly. “I expect that’s Little Pete. If so, you need to leave with him right away.”
“No!” Mrs. Dane protested. “Not until I know about Emily.”
He slid his arm around her shoulders. “Let me tend to Emmy. I give you my word I’ll take care of her.”
Little Pete signaled from the murky road.
Diego whistled back. “It’s Pete.”
“Oh, Bertha,” Mrs. Dane moaned. She whirled into her friend’s waiting arms. “I feel so torn.”
Mrs. Bloom clucked her tongue. “Listen to me, sugar. Willem may die if we don’t get help for him soon.” She patted her back. “Besides, you know what Emmy would want you to do.”
Pete drew alongside them. A long, jarring scratch produced a glow at the end of a match, with Pete’s curious face etched in shadow behind it.
Diego sprang into action, batting the hand Pete held cupped around the flame. The match flew out of Pete’s hand and Diego ground the embers into the sandy soil.
“¡Oye, Diego!” Pete yelled. “Are you loco?”
“Lower your voice, amigo. We’ve got company a little west of here, and I’m not ready to announce our presence.”
Pete stared toward the firelight and lowered his voice. “Who are they?”
“Nobody you’d ask to supper,” Mrs. Bloom hissed.
Placing his hand on the horse’s neck, Diego tilted his face to Little Pete. “Mr. Dane has been injured. I want you to get him and the ladies to the ranch right away then ride into town for a doctor.”
“Sí, Diego. Right away.” Pete’s voice softened with concern. “Very sorry, Señora Dane.”
Diego helped Mrs. Dane climb up beside her husband. Without waiting for assistance, Mrs. Bloom scrambled into the driver’s seat. “We’re ready,” she called.
Diego patted Little Pete’s boot. “Try to hurry, but take it easy, huh? Her husband’s badly hurt.”
“Sí, sí. I will take good care of him,” Pete said. He rode away a few feet and stopped. “Diego? Where is Mr. Rawson?”
A wind gust squalled behind Diego, billowing his shirt and raining sand on his back. “I’ll try to answer that question when I come, Pete. Get those women home.”
“Sí, señor.”
Before another thing could keep him from Emmy, Diego fumbled Faron’s leads free from a young mesquite tree and led him a little farther down the road. Obviously sensing the storm ahead, Faron resisted, bobbing his head and dragging his feet. Giving in, Diego left him secured behind a larger tree and hurried toward the campsite.
The lightning, now constant and intense, lit up the surroundings so often Diego wove among the scrub brush and cactus to prevent being spotted. He didn’t stop until he came alongside the camp on the left and slid into the high grass a few yards away.
Crawling closer, he spotted the two men Bertha Bloom had seen tied together in front of the fire. With no protection from the storm, they watched the erupting sky with terror on their faces.
Thunder crashed directly overhead with a noise like the heavens had split. Diego ducked from the resulting explosion of light, the brightest he’d ever seen in his life, but not before the flash illuminated Cuddy tied to a wagon wheel. Instinctively, Diego came up on his knees then dropped again when a young man scurried past Cuddy and bailed into the covered wagon.
As Diego tried to decide what to do, the rumbling started again, this time moving the earth beneath him. Realizing the sound was bearing down on him, he glanced up in time to roll out of the path of a madly dashing cow.
Two more sailed past, running right through the middle of the camp, dodging the fire so they missed the two wild-eyed men.
A scream rang out, coming from the direction of the charging herd. Diego flew to his feet and ran. He roared for Emmy, but she couldn’t have heard. The unending crash of thunder colliding with pounding hooves and frightened bellows was deafening.
The scene before him was the essence of a man’s nightmares. An endless sea of red cattle charged his direction, appearing then disappearing as jagged spikes of li
ght exploded around them. Bodies of downed cattle scattered the ground, tripping the others, creating a mad game of falling dominoes.
Emmy, her hair unpinned and her dress torn from one shoulder, darted in front of the driving wall of terror. Her mouth opened in another scream as she ran blindly into the path of certain death. Without a moment’s hesitation, Diego hurtled toward her.
CHAPTER 37
Magda placed Emmy in God’s keeping and let go of her fear. After all, she had enough on her plate for the moment. She groped for Willem’s warm hand and squeezed, thrilled that she felt the tiniest response.
She decided that while she was yielding her loved ones to the Lord, she’d poke Willem in His hands as well. It seemed only God could save him, and she prayed He would ... if the lightning prowling the sky behind them didn’t get him first.
Little Pete slowed his horse even with them. “I don’t believe we will outrun this storm, señoras, but we must try. It’s very dangerous.” He drew closer. “Forgive me, Mrs. Dane, but will it harm your husband to go faster?”
“We’ve taken him on bumpier rides,” Bertha piped up. “Ain’t we, Magda?”
“That doesn’t mean it was good for him, Bertha,” she called back. Pete cleared his throat. “There’s a cut-off up ahead that leads to my good friend’s jacal. We can take shelter there.”
Magda’s throat tightened. “I suppose we have to risk it.”
Pete spurred his horse. “Follow me. Don’t worry, it’s not far.”
“Hang on to Willem,” Bertha cried, her voice nearly lost in the wind.
Magda held Willem’s head the way she had before, braced between her two hands. The rig took off so fast she felt it might rumble from beneath her, especially since she couldn’t hold on. Her bottom, already sore, took a pounding on the rough boards of the wagon bed. “I’ll be black and blue,” she shouted. If Bertha answered, she didn’t hear.
The ride jostled her to the side, and she bumped her head hard on the rail. With no hands free to right herself, she lay draped behind Willem, helpless. Her head took another sharp rap every time they hit a bump, and there were too many to count.
A sob tore from her throat, carried away by strong gusts and crashing thunder. She felt alone in her suffering. While seeking God’s protection for Willem and Emmy, she’d forgotten to lay herself on the altar as well.
“Are You even there?” she cried in anguish.
She craned to see the heavens past the surrey top. A bolt of lightning, so close she felt the hair rise on her head, was her only answer—until Willem’s searching fingers found her face and patted her cheek.
***
An inferno surged within Diego. He shot forward, tackling Emmy and knocking her clear seconds before the stampeding beasts would have trampled her. She screeched his name and clung to his neck. Scrambling to his feet, he pulled her ahead of the next set of hooves and rolled her beneath the wagon.
Emmy heaved with sobs. Something told Diego it had nothing to do with their narrow escape. Struggling to catch her breath, she twisted beneath him to stare over her shoulder. Her eyes were bulging pools of fear.
He smoothed her hair. “You’re safe now, mi querida.” The endearment slipped from his heart to his lips. “It’s over now.”
She fiercely shook her head. “He’s still out there.”
He pressed his finger to her lips and pointed above them, posing the question in his eyes.
She shook her head no.
“Who, Emmy?”
She shuddered. “Please be careful. He has a knife.”
Diego’s spine tingled. He hurriedly assessed the situation. One man above him in the wagon. One more skulking in the darkness with a blade. Cuddy, groggy and tied to a wheel beside him. Two unarmed men trussed up beside the fire.
He had a knife, too, but he needed to even the odds. Bending his knee, he slid the pistol from his boot and showed it to her.
She nodded.
He surveyed the area around them. The worst of the storm had blown over, leaving hardly a drop of rain behind. The wind was still up, but only weak gusts rustled the wagon cover. The campfire had died to embers and one of the two lanterns had gone out.
Diego remembered Little Pete and the women, directly in the path of the rushing cattle and perilous lightning. Wincing, he pushed the thought away. He could only manage one crisis at a time.
He patted Emmy’s shoulder. “Don’t move,” he whispered. “I’ll be back.”
Careful to not bump or jostle the rig, he eased himself out on the unlighted side and crawled around to Cuddy.
Cuddy lifted dazed eyes that cleared when he saw Diego. “Real nice to see you, amigo.”
Shushing him, Diego took his knife from the scabbard and cut him free. “Stay put unless I need you.”
Cuddy started to argue, but Diego wiggled his finger in his face. “Stay put.” He pointed under the wagon. “Keep an eye on Emmy.”
Diego darted into the darkness again. He circled the camp on the other side and slipped up on the weary-looking captives. Startled, the eldest started to cry out, but Diego covered his mouth. The man nodded and Diego removed his hand.
Severing the ropes that held them, Diego handed the knife to the younger man, who stood slowly, likely stiff from sitting so long. Smiling, Diego lifted his pistol and nodded at the knife in the man’s hand. Together they moved to stand behind the opening of the wagon.
“Come out,” Diego shouted. “We have a surprise for you.”
The flap flew back and the lanky boy made a run for it. The toe of the last boot to clear the canvas caught on the brake and he landed on his belly on the ground. He grunted as the air rushed out of him. Gasping like a landed trout, he rolled in the dirt at their feet.
Diego looked up and winked. “Well, that was easy.”
His companion held out his hand. “Benito Guerra. Over there is my uncle, Juan. We are much indebted to you, señor.”
Tipping his hat, Diego grinned. “It was nothing.” Tapping the sprawling young man with his foot, he winked at Benito. “Nothing at all.”
Catching his breath, the boy pushed to his feet.
Diego grasped him around the neck with his arm and held him steady. He began to wail like a branded calf. “Wayne! They got me!” He struggled against Diego. “Help me, Wayne!”
Cuddy limped up beside them. “I guess old Wayne ain’t coming, partner. Looks like he bailed out on you.” Cuddy’s face was a mass of cuts and purple bruises, but at least he was talking.
Diego thrust out his chin. “They thrashed you good. Are you all right?”
Cuddy rubbed his jaw. “Maybe not as pretty, but I’m awake now.”
“Señores!” Benito cried behind them. He stared at something outside the camp, his eyes glowing with terror. He pointed just as the acrid smell of smoke on the wind tickled Diego’s nostrils. “Fire, señores!”
Diego jerked around to look. Sparked by lightning, a wall of flames spread across the distant plain. Driven by the wind, it whipped closer every second. He gripped the back of Cuddy’s shirt. “We’ve got to get out of here.”
He handed Cuddy the gun and trotted to where he’d left Emmy huddled. Reeling away, he whirled in a tight circle, his eyes searching every corner of the campsite. “Emmy!” he shouted, so loudly his throat hurt.
Cuddy ran up beside him. “What’s wrong, brother?”
“It’s Emmy.” Molten fear layered the walls of Diego’s gut. “She’s gone.”
***
Little Pete’s prediction had proven true. They hadn’t outrun the storm. The wind blew so hard it felt as if the furious gusts racing along the plain lifted the wagon and hurtled it forward.
Magda cuddled on Willem’s shoulder, delighting in the feel of his arm around her. He didn’t have enough strength to tighten his hold, but he gave her frequent little pats, and each time her heart soared. She held his head steady with one hand on his cheek as they barreled along the road—she hoped to safety. She had just gotten her
husband back and couldn’t lose him now.
Fickle about its choice of targets, the lightning struck on every side without warning, splitting the air with sharp cracks. Anxious, Magda sat up to see how Bertha fared. Sitting on the driver’s seat made her the highest point on the wagon and the most likely target, so Magda feared for her safety.
Small brush fires followed every strike, but the heavy sheet of rain coming behind them quenched the flames before they spread. Staring toward the approaching downpour, a ghastly sight caught Magda’s eye. A quivering dark wall surged toward them, not unlike a bank of floodwater or a wave on Galveston Beach. She rubbed her eyes in disbelief, but the apparition remained, still rolling right for them.
Magda pulled up on the backboard and screamed for Bertha, but the whistling of the wind was too shrill. Terror weakening her limbs, she managed to push to her feet and crawl over.
On the other side, she promptly slid off the seat, scrambling and clutching at anything to stop her from sailing off onto the ground. Catching her balance at the last second, she hurled herself toward the front, screaming for Bertha.
Bertha turned her head halfway, her eyes wide with surprise.
Magda fell to her knees, still clinging to Bertha’s seat. “Something’s behind us!” she shouted.
“What did you say?”
“Something’s chasing us. Something big!”
Bertha twisted to look. “I don’t see anything.”
“Keep looking.”
The sky lit up briefly, long enough for them both to get a good look.
“The cattle!” Bertha cried.
Up ahead, Little Pete held up his arm before hurtling down a lane to the left.
Magda nudged Bertha’s attention around to the front. “Go that way!”
A nervous glance to the rear revealed that the herd had just about caught up to them. Would they go around or blindly plow into the back, upsetting the speeding wagon? Cringing, she pictured them rolling, being crushed beneath the seat, Willem’s helpless body flying out.
Dear Jesus, help us!
Emmy's Equal Page 30