“And I was too blind to see,” Summer lamented wearily.
“Nope. You were too busy, Summer. You did all the work while Frank strutted around like a peacock. Until you two split the sheets, we all figured it was your own business.”
“Jesse, thanks for being honest. Rory,” she called. “Tell Cee Cee goodbye. You’ll see her tomorrow when the school bus picks up her sisters.”
“No, I won’t. Remember?” Rory chided his mother.
“That’s right. Next week, then. Lord willing and the snow don’t fall, you’ll be back in school next Monday.”
She left Jesse and his daughter chuckling over her statement.
At the ranch, she found things pretty much as she’d left them. “Virgil, did Coltrane and Tracey get under way without a hitch this morning?”
Virgil, who preceded Summer into the house, carrying her supplies, paused. “Trace rode out at seven. Colt had a package to mail. I’m not sure when he got back. His horses are gone and his pickup’s parked in its usual place. Why?”
“No reason. Phil said he saw Colt in town. Isn’t that odd?”
“Huh. Didn’t seem to me as if he made any secret of going. I like that boy. Like him more every day. And Audrey and I’ve seen how you two look at each other. In case you’re wondering, we’ve got no objections if your heart’s leaning that way.”
Shocked by the old man’s perceptiveness, Summer stopped cold in her tracks. The screen door slammed in her face.
“Oops, sorry,” Virgil said, shoving it open with the toe of his scuffed boot. “As I was saying, Audrey and I would rest easier if Coltrane Quinn stuck around and parked his boots under your bed.”
“Virgil!” Summer opened her mouth to set him straight. Then figuring there was no need to worry him, she changed the subject. “Did you hear Two Bears advanced his snow warning to sometime this week?”
“Lois Gettleman told Audrey as much last night. I hate to say the old geezer’s past it, but I don’t smell nothing but autumn in the air.”
“All the same, I’m taking Rory with me this afternoon to start bringing our stock out of the gorge. If Colt or Trace calls in to see why I haven’t met them, please tell them my plans changed. Also, have them move their herd to the rail yard. Same process they carried out yesterday. I’ll look for them in the gorge day after tomorrow.”
“Wouldn’t it be easier to help them clear the north range today, and then all of you do the gorge?”
“What’s wrong with my method?”
“Nothing,” the old man muttered. “I know when you get that look in your eye, there’s no sense arguing. At least you’ll have Lancelot. Tracey went off without him and he’s moping out in the barn.”
“Great. I’m just as happy to have him. I’ll feel better knowing he’s sticking close to Rory. Not that Rory wasn’t a trooper this weekend—he was. But I usually managed to keep him in sight. Roundup’s not as simple in the gorge.”
Virgil helped pack her mule, and Audrey fixed thick ham sandwiches for their first night on the trail.
“Oh, Summer, I almost forgot. Mama Eagle flapped her bad wing this morning. And the babies are getting feathers. I’ll be surprised if we can hold them till spring. Should I tether the little ones while you’re gone, give them a chance to test their wings?”
“I guess. Put some fish in the tank. We can’t let them go without teaching them to hunt. Darn, I’m sorry I’ll miss watching their progress.”
“You’ve got more important things to do. The ranch needs all your attention right now.”
The light went out of her eyes as she turned in the saddle to slowly inspect her land. “Why am I bothering, Virgil? In the end I’m going to lose the Forked Lightning.”
“Hush. You are this land. By Jove, if it takes a miracle to keep you here, then I predict one will come your way.”
“Thanks, Virgil. I hope so for all our sakes.” Nevertheless, her heart was leaden as she whistled to Lancelot, collected Rory and rode out. She didn’t like to think she’d pinned so many hopes on Coltrane Quinn. Truth was, when Phil Eubanks killed her faith in him, her belief that she could beat Frank was tarnished a little, too. Who was she kidding? Completely rusted out was more like it.
She and Rory ran across a few dozen steers and two heifers with calves before dark. They secured them in the pen, then made camp for the night.
“This is all I ever want to do, Mama. Why do I have to go to school?” Rory asked as he ate his sandwich and toasted his toes by the fire Summer had built.
“There’s more to operating a successful ranch than letting cows out to run and rounding them up for market. You have to balance accounts, figure profit and loss, buy feed, cut grain. You have to learn about the principles of agriculture and you need basic veterinary skills and so much else.” She reached out and drew a hand through his hair. “What if we had to leave the Forked Lightning, Rory?”
“You mean go live with Daddy? He said he’s gonna build a big house, and I’ll have a room there. But I don’t wanna live anywhere except here.” The boy dived into Summer’s side and held on for dear life.
She hugged him, not letting him see the tears squeezing under her eyelids. When at last she regained control, she loosened her grip. “We don’t have to talk about any of this just yet, Rory. Time to roll out our sleeping bags. Ah, that’s what Lancelot’s been waiting for. He loves burrowing into the foot of a sleeping bag.”
“Good, he can keep me warm. It’s cold, Mama, even with the fire.”
Summer realized the cattle were huddled in a tight knot. “The stars are still bright. We could get frost,” she mused. “I’ll keep the fire burning. That way you won’t freeze in the morning when you get out of your warm bag.”
IN THE MORNING, CLOUDS HUNG low. The temperature had dropped considerably. Rory’s teeth chattered in spite of the fact that Summer had given him gloves and a fleece-lined wool jacket. “My ears are c-c-cold,” he said through chattering teeth.
“We may get a dusting of snow. Rory, I want you to stick close to me. We’ll let Lancelot ferret out any steers in hiding.”
“Okay. Why’d you put out the fire? Won’t we stop here each time we bring in a bunch of steers?”
“Honey, we can’t chance a spark flying and setting a tree on fire.”
Rory nodded, but clearly he wasn’t having fun today.
He stuck it out past lunch with only minimal complaints. By midafternoon the clouds plummeted, obstructing the treetops. Before long, they were spitting sharp crystals of snow. “Mama, I wanna go home. My jeans are wet, and my feet are f-freezing.”
Summer rode up beside Rory. Lancelot had become little more than a blur in the blowing whorls of snow. Biting her top lip, Summer did a fast count of the animals milling in the pen. Less than half the number she’d expected to find.
“Mo-om?” This time Rory’s cry was plaintive.
“Okay, honey. I know you’re freezing. We’ll drive what we have back to the ranch. Maybe tomorrow the snow will slack off. By then Coltrane and Tracey will be free to help me. You can spend the day with Audrey.”
“’Kay.” Rory hunched miserably in his jacket. The freckles across his nose stood out in his pale face.
They moved slowly forward for approximately an hour. One of the calves, a scrawny little mite, stumbled and fell. Summer sprang from her saddle. “Rory, wait up. Whistle Lancelot back. This little guy won’t make it home without help.”
“Aw, Mom. We’re almost there. I know my way from here. Can you help him and let me ride on? I’ll tell Audrey you’re coming. I bet she made soup.”
The very thought of hot homemade soup gave Summer impetus to muscle the calf across the saddle blanket she draped over her saddle horn. Mounting again proved more difficult. Her mare disliked the blowing snow.
Summer finally succeeded in climbing on. She took note of surroundings she’d been too oblivious to see before. Indeed, they were less than a mile from home. Although she could use an extra hand to keep th
e herd from straying in the flying snow, she took pity on her son. “Yeah, go on, Rory. Take Lancelot. Don’t let him out of your sight, okay? Promise?”
“I promise. C’mon, Lance. Audrey’ll have a fire burning in the fireplace.”
“Take care, you hear? Ask Virgil to open the gate to the side corral. With luck, I’ll be there within the hour.”
She watched them disappear in a sheet of snow. “I’ll never doubt Two Bears again,” she told the bawling calf dangling awkwardly across her saddle. She covered him as best she could with a corner of the blanket. “Hi yi!” Removing her hat briefly, she fanned it through the furry white flakes, hoping to speed the herd along.
By Summer’s best estimate they’d traveled a quarter mile when the wind shifted and drove snow straight into their faces. The flakes were larger, but also wetter and heavier. The cattle plodded more slowly as snow on the ground piled up. This was going to take longer than she’d thought.
COLT AND TRACEY GALLOPED into the ranch, both looking like snowmen perched atop equally white horses. Virgil met them at the barn. “Been worried about you two. I looked for you to roll in ’bout noon.”
“There was a backup at the rail yard. This snow’s making everyone bring in smaller herds more frequently. It’s a mess out there. Good thing Summer decided not to join us,” Colt said, stepping down to shake snow from his parka.
Virgil grabbed Moon Shadow’s reins and led him into the warm barn. “Summer and Rory went into the gorge yesterday. I tried to talk her out of it, but when she gets a notion in her head, there ain’t no swaying that woman.”
“What?” Colt stopped in the middle of hauling the saddle off his horse.
“There goes our dream of sipping coffee by the fire,” Trace grumbled.
“Right. Virg, will you bring us Gambler and Spirit? Trace and I’ll trouble Audrey for a thermos. We’ll drink our coffee as we ride.” He blew on weather-reddened hands, and stamped caked, wet snow from his boots.
Virgil brought the horses. He took a minute to explain where they’d find the holding pen Summer would use. “If they’re not camped nearby, about a mile left as the crow flies, there’s an old cabin up in the trees. Hasn’t been used in a while, but if the snow’s too bad, Summer might hole up there till it slacks off.”
Nodding, the men saddled up and then remounted. Virgil opened the door wide. “I’ll cut across to the house. Meet you at the back porch with the coffee.”
“Gotcha,” Colt replied, ducking his head to ride out of the barn. “Whoa! What’s this?” A riderless horse trotted toward them, reins dragging.
“That’s Rory’s gelding.” Virgil snagged the bridle. “Lord-a-mercy, there’s Lancelot! He looks hurt.” The dog’s fur was snow-matted, and he limped badly.
Virgil picked him up gingerly. Whining, the dog fought to get down. He succeeded in leaping out of the old man’s arms.
“I think he wants us to follow him,” Colt said as he watched the dog’s antics. Straining to see through the thick flakes, he expected Summer to gallop in any minute. But she didn’t. And the snow fell faster, blocking the outer corral from view.
“Lancelot’s not in any shape to be walking,” Virgil said. “He’s got a bloody patch on his hip and back leg. Musta been kicked by a steer.”
“Hand him to me,” Colt said gruffly. “I’ll carry him, and we’ll try and follow his tracks. But we’d better get at it fast, before they’re totally covered.”
“You have your phone?” the old man asked. When Colt nodded, the old man added grimly, “Call if I need to rustle up a search party.”
Colt and Tracey’s only answer to that was to dig their heels into the flanks of their fresh horses.
CHAPTER TWELVE
THE WIND SEEMED TO BLOW snow at them from all directions. Colt hunched over his saddle to shelter the wet, shivering dog. Lancelot whined and lapped a warm tongue across Colt’s icy cheek. “We’ll find him, boy,” Colt murmured determinedly. “We’ll find Rory.”
“What?” Tracey lifted his head from where he’d buried it deep in his collar.
“I’m trying to calm the dog. But I’m plenty worried, Trace. The horse’s tracks are almost gone. I only see faint indentations where he broke through the crust.”
“Yeah. Is it my imagination, or is it colder now than when we left the ranch?”
“It hurts to breathe, if that’s what you mean.”
“And look at you. Your eyebrows, eyelashes and two-day stubble are frosted white. You look like a ghost.”
Spirit faltered, and Colt choked up on the reins. “Damn, I’ve lost the tracks completely.”
“Don’t panic. The snow is lighter again. It’s blowing around on top of the heavier stuff.” Tracey kicked out of his stirrups. He wore so many layers, he had trouble dismounting.
Lancelot stiffened in Colt’s arms. Then he barked and began struggling to jump down.
“Turn him loose, Coltrane,” Tracey urged.
“He’s only just warmed up. I hate to put him down in this muck. But maybe he can point us in the right direction.”
“Here,” Trace called. He’d worked laboriously to sweep away an icy blanket overlying an earlier snowfall. “You need to look at this, Colt. I’m having a hard time clearing a spot fast enough. From the angle, I’d say the tracks lead in from the northeast. Looks to me like a mix of hoofprints and boot tracks. And a larger hollow spot where somebody maybe sat or lay down.”
Colt clambered awkwardly down from his horse, still holding the wriggling dog. A scattering of snow fell off the brim of his hat. “Damn this weather. I don’t know, Trace. The only thing we’re sure of is that Lancelot hurt his leg. Maybe it happened up the trail a ways. Could that flat spot be where he flopped down? Rory might have dismounted to help.”
“Beats me. The imprint appears bigger than a dog. Snow’s coming down too fast for me to get the whole picture. Seems to be a lot of commotion in these tracks.”
“Like a scuffle, you mean? How? Why?” Colt’s exasperation showed.
“Maybe the kid tried to drag or lift the dog, and lost the reins to his horse.”
“Conceivable. Where in hell do you think Summer is?” Colt had all he could do to maintain a grip on Lancelot, who still squirmed to get down.
Trace squinted into the wind-driven snow. “She could pass by us twenty feet away and we wouldn’t know it.”
“I doubt that. She’ll be bringing in a herd.”
“Unless she got hurt up there and sent Rory for help.”
Colt recalled Summer’s daring exploits during the rescue of the eagles. The shiver that snaked up his spine was one he couldn’t blame on the weather. “Mount up. We’ll strike out across the plateau. If we don’t run across her in ten or fifteen minutes, I’ll phone Virgil and have him sound an alarm. God Almighty, the way this storm’s shaping up, maybe I ought to phone him now.”
“You decide. Rory and his mom could be together, struggling with the cattle.”
A tense silence held both men as they remounted. Colt continued a close watch on the time. At the end of twelve minutes, they reached a grove of towering pines. Old trees. Thick branches offered a canopy that gave some respite from the stinging particles of snow. Particles that froze the cheeks and nose.
Colt pulled off a glove and shifted the dog, who’d grown increasingly more restless. With great difficulty, he managed to wrest the phone out of his jacket pocket.
“Hold up a minute.” Trace pointed in the direction they’d been headed. “Follow my finger. You’ve gotta snatch a quick peek as the wind shifts. Isn’t that a point steer, with several fanned out behind?”
Colt’s heart slammed against the left side of his chest. “Hot damn! You’re right. What are we waiting for? Lead out.”
Not even bothering to put his phone away, Colt juggled it, Lancelot and his reins. The men had ten minutes more of plowing through three-foot drifts before they reached the wandering herd. A faint figure on horseback trailed at the rear of some five hund
red head of slow-moving cattle. A lone figure.
“She’s by herself,” Trace said. “At least I’m assuming it’s Summer from the way she sits a horse.”
“We should split up and flank the herd so we don’t spook them,” Colt suggested.
Touching the brim of his hat, Tracey rode out from the covering of trees, into the storm. He chose to circle around the right side.
Having the shorter distance to travel, Colt reached Summer first.
She was so glad to see another human being that, for the moment, she forgot her vow to treat Coltrane Quinn coolly. “Isn’t this weather something?” she cried when he came within shouting distance. “It’s the last time I’ll ever try and outguess Two Bears.”
Spirit’s hoofbeats were muffled by the snow as Colt cantered closer.
“Well, look at you, Lancelot. Traveling first class, I see.” She laughed because she’d been alternately concerned for Rory and downright panicky the longer the day wore on with no word from anyone.
Colt rode so close to her, his hat brim scraped hers. “Summer, I don’t know a better way to say this. Rory’s horse returned to the barn riderless.”
Her cold face crumpled into a mask of pain. If Colt hadn’t been near enough to grab her arm, she might have tumbled from her saddle.
She jerked out of his hands. “This is some kind of sick joke, right? Lancelot would never leave Rory. Never!”
Trace rode up and heard her remark. “It’s no joke, ma’am. Colt’s telling the truth. We were delayed at the rail yard. A lot of herds were stacked up, waiting to be tallied. We’d just got back to the barn when Virgil said you and Rory had gone into the gorge. Colt said we’d come and give you a hand. We switched to fresh horses and left the barn, and that’s when Rory’s horse trailed in. Lancelot was behind him. That little squirt was half frozen and limping bad. He has a hurt leg.”
“Oh, my God! So…you’re telling me, Rory… is…wandering around out here in this?” She flung her arms wide, startling her mare. The horse skipped skittishly, calming only after Colt grasped the bridle and pulled the mare close. The calf slung over Summer’s saddle bawled.
Wide Open Spaces (Harlequin Super Romance) Page 20