Christmas at Blue Moon Ranch (22 page)

He didn’t
mention the plan to Willa, because she would want the sheriff’s department
involved or else veto the whole enterprise. Daniel planned to call the sheriff
when the system alerted him that the rustlers were operational. Otherwise,
Sutton would simply say he didn’t have the personnel to sit on their butts and
wait for an alarm.

The week of
Thanksgiving brought rain—hours of downpour every day. Daniel, Nate and the
hands kept watch in the pastures for cows in trouble—stuck in the mud, stranded
on the wrong side of a rushing creek, struck by branches from windblown trees. Daniel
came in every day wet and exhausted to fall asleep in the barn with the console
monitoring his fences, then started over again the next morning at dawn.

Though his crew
argued with him, he gave them all Thanksgiving Day off. He and Nate could
handle any emergency in the fields. Maybe the storms would break for the
holiday.

No such luck. He
woke on Thursday morning to the same old sound of rain pounding on the roof,
plus the ringing of the telephone.

“Boss…”

He barely
recognized the weak voice. “Nate?”

“Boss, I cain’t
get there this morning. I cain’t move three feet away from the john.”

“That’s bad.
Something you ate?”

“Maybe. Got a
couple of burritos on the way home last night. Woke up a few hours later with
my guts twisted like barb wire.” He made a choking sound. “Gotta go.”

Daniel hung up
the phone and lay back with a groan. No problem. He could take care of his
ranch by himself. He hoped.

His invitation
for dinner with Willa and her family was for five. If he started early and ate
in the saddle, he could check on all the pastures and be home with enough time
to clean up.

He began with
the herd farthest from the house, grateful that he didn’t have to check the
fence line as well as search out cows in danger. By the time he stopped for
lunch at noon, he felt pretty confident. All the cattle had been present and
accounted for, with no imminent threats he could see. Even the rain had backed
off to a sporadic sprinkle.

Then he reached
the field where he and Willa had picnicked by the creek. The wind picked up and
the sky darkened, with the rain beginning again in earnest. He counted thirty
cows, where there should have been thirty-five, thanks to the rustlers. After
two recounts, he was certain—more cattle were missing.

Daniel sat there
on his horse in the pouring rain, wondering what a seasoned, experienced
rancher would do. Of all the times for Nate to be sick…

Wiping his face
with a hand gloved in wet leather, he stared at the ground around him, hoping
for some indication of what course to follow. Four days of rain had turned the
soil to liquid mud in which hoofprints melted away after a few minutes. The
creek had risen several feet up the gentle slope of its banks, a churning brown
soup of foam, rocks and tree limbs. He thought about how pretty the place had
been just a couple of weeks ago, when he’d kissed Willa on the rock and told
her he loved her. That day, he’d begun to believe he could have his dream ranch
and
the woman he needed.

Something else
from that day jingled a bell in his mind. Chasing down the memory, he
remembered her explanation of how dangerous the little stream could be when the
rains came. Like now.

Following the
direction she’d indicated that day, he rode farther north along the path of the
creek, allowing Calypso to pick his way slowly across the slippery ground. Just
as Willa had said, the banks became steeper the farther he went, and the water
moved faster. What cow would be stupid enough to get caught up in this surging,
roaring flood?

Even as he asked
himself the question, he heard a pitiful call from somewhere up ahead. Calypso
pricked his ears and moved toward the sound without prompting. They came to a
cluster of willows and shrubs growing beside the creek, and Daniel discovered a
path he hadn’t seen before, a depression worn into the sides of the ravine that
took the cattle directly to the creek bed itself. The U-shaped tunnel was
already half-filled with muddy water.

And on the other
bank, where a similar chute led down to the creek, three of his missing cows
stood lined up as if to come back across.

Cursing the
stupidity of cattle and the lack of cell phone transmitters, Daniel rode
Calypso as fast as he dared across the five miles back to his barn.

In keeping with
today’s luck, however, Rob answered the phone at the Mercado house. “She’s…uh…not
here.”

Daniel forced
himself to stay calm. “I’ll try the barn.”

“Not there,
either. She went into town.”

“Right. On
Thanksgiving Day, when all the stores are closed, your mother drove into town
in the pouring rain. Give me a break. Just put her on the phone, please.”

“I told you,
she’s not here.”

“Look, son—”

“I’m not your
son.”

“And right now
you should be thanking God for that fact.” He pulled in a deep breath. “Look,
Rob, I’ve got animals in trouble and nobody to ask for help but your mother. If
I have to ride down to your house, I will, but the more time I waste, the more
likely it is those stupid cows will die. Do you want that to happen?”

He held his
breath through a silence that seemed to last forever.

Finally, Rob
said, “Mom? Phone.” Then came a crash that sounded like the phone itself
landing on a tile floor, followed by a long silence. Was there still a
connection?

And then Willa
said, “Hello?”

Daniel closed
his eyes in relief. “Thank God. I need your help, Willa. Can you come?”

She arrived at
his barn fifteen minutes after he’d finished his explanation, carrying an
insulated container of coffee. “Lili and Rosa insisted I make you drink a cup
before we leave. If you’ve been out all day, you need to warm up.” A glance
over his shoulder took in the equipment he’d installed. “This is pretty fancy.
What’s going on?”

“I’ll explain
later. I rubbed Calypso down and gave him some water. Do you think he can go
out again?”

She surveyed the
horse as he stood munching hay in one of the stalls. “He’s good and strong.
He’ll be fine.” Her gaze came back to Daniel. “I’m more worried about you.
You’re worn to the bone.”

“I’m okay. Let’s
just get out there and do something about those cows.”

On the trip back
across the range, Daniel realized he was riding on instinct, his body numbed by
exhaustion and beyond his conscious control. He’d be depending on Willa’s
strength for whatever rescue his animals required.

Back at the
creek, Daniel reined in Calypso with a groan of dismay. Only two cows now stood
on the opposite bank.

He shouted to
Willa above the wind and rain. “Do you think one of them could have climbed
back out?”

She gave him a
long look that expressed her doubts. “Let’s see about getting these two back to
the herd.”

Expecting her to
use the ropes she’d brought along to pull the cows across, he was surprised
when Willa headed Monty downstream, toward the shallower part of the creek. Calypso
followed without encouragement or direction from his rider, and Daniel began to
realize how useless he’d become in this situation.

They found the
first carcass about a quarter of a mile along, lodged against the trunk of a
willow tree standing in the path of the flood. A second cow lay a few yards
further. Both had been pregnant. Daniel used every ounce of will he possessed
to swallow down the gorge that rose in his throat.

When Willa
reached the relatively shallow section of the creek, she turned her horse and
waited for Daniel to catch up. “The horses can ford here. We’ll go get those
cows—drag them up the bank backward, if we have to—and drive them back to where
they can cross and join the herd.” She put a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry about
those two back there.”

“If I’d known
what to do…”

“The outcome
wouldn’t have changed. You lose cattle, Daniel, no matter how long you’ve been
ranching. Don’t blame yourself.”

“Sure.” He
straightened up. “So, let’s do what we can.”

Willa headed
Monty into the fast-moving creek, which rose quickly to hit her above the knee.
The current pushed the horse sideways, and Monty snorted as foam and spray hit
his face, but Willa kept him moving forward, across the flow. This time,
Calypso balked at following until Daniel finally flicked the ends of the reins
over Cal’s hip to make his point. Snorting, Cal stepped gingerly off the muddy
bank.

The force of the
cold water was terrifying. The sensation of sinking, with a horse under him,
threatened to paralyze Daniel. He couldn’t think, couldn’t move. If he got
across safely, Calypso could claim all the credit.

Slowly—too
slowly—they made their way across the twenty feet of water now comprising the
creek. Willa waited on the other side. “You’ve got it made,” she yelled. “Just
a few more steps.”

At that moment,
Cal stumbled, pitching forward. His head went under the water. Daniel felt the
horse roll to the right…toward his bad leg, the one he couldn’t slip out of the
stirrup in a hurry. He knew he was going under and grabbed a breath of air.

The water closed
over his head, filling ears and eyes and nose with silt. Beside him, Calypso
thrashed, trying to find his feet. Daniel wondered if he’d get kicked before he
could free his right foot. Or would the horse drag him out of the water
foot-first?

With a mighty
surge, Cal leapt through the water, and Daniel fell free. He hit bottom, rolled
along the gravel-crusted creek bed and then came to rest sitting up, with the
surface of the water just above his head. Using arms and legs that felt like
logs, he pushed himself up…up…into the air. And the steadily falling rain.

“Damn rain,” he
muttered, trying to wipe the mud out of his eyes so he could see. “I hate the
damn rain.”

“Are you okay?”
Willa’s voice came from somewhere nearby. When he could finally open his eyes,
she was just above him on the bank, with the reins of both horses in one hand
and the other held out to him. “Get out of the water, cowboy.”

“Yeah, right.”
He wasn’t sure he could move. His leg and his back had gone from cold and numb
to searing pain. Waving her hand away, he bent his good knee and struggled to
his feet on his own. “I’ve got it. I’m okay.”

The first step
he took made him realize that somewhere in the process of nearly drowning he’d
lost his right boot.

“Still in the
stirrup,” Willa told him, when she saw him stop mid-stride. “Cal saved it for
you.”

Daniel was
beyond comment. Weary and aching, he floundered out of the creek, pulled his
boot out of the stirrup and shoved his foot inside. Then, using their lunch
table rock to mount, he struggled back into the saddle. “Let’s get the cows.
I’m ready to quit for the day.” Or maybe longer.

The prodigal
cows had, of their own accord, moved away from the water and back onto solid
ground, so the process of getting them back to the herd became relatively
simple. Even crossing back across the creek posed few problems this time, and
the two animals trotted back to join the herd with bovine nonchalance. Of the
fifth animal there was no sign, alive or dead.

“I’ll send a
couple of hands out to look tomorrow,” Daniel said. “Maybe she was smarter than
the rest.” Which was more than could be said for the man who ran the ranch.

It was after
four o’clock by the time he and Willa made it back to his barn. “Don’t stop
here,” he told her. “Go straight to your place, take care of the horse and get
yourself warm and dry. I’ll take a shower and be there for dinner at five, as
invited.” He tried out a grin for her benefit.

Judging by her
worried gaze, his effort wasn’t much of a success. “You’re not taking this
well.”

He made his
usual clumsy exit from the saddle, avoiding Willa’s eyes by working on loosening
the wet girth around Cal’s belly. “I’ll be fine once I get dry. Go on, now. See
you in a little while.” Not waiting for her to leave, he turned and led his
horse into the barn, to food and water and a rubdown with several dry towels.

When he walked into
the kitchen of his house half an hour later, Trouble commenced his standard
greeting routine—yips and yaps, excessive panting and tongue lolling, circles
run clockwise and counter-clockwise around Daniel’s feet and, finally, a
running leap that plowed his front paws square into the belly. When he regained
his breath, Daniel clipped a leash onto the dog’s collar and went back out into
the rain to take care of canine business. He’d been thinking about putting up a
fence at the back of the house so Trouble could have room to run and wouldn’t
have to be on a leash, for his own protection and that of the cattle. Maybe it
was a good thing he hadn’t yet gotten around to spending that particular chunk
of cash.

In the house
once more, he gave the dog his dinner and finally took off his soaked duster
and soggy boots, hanging them to drip in a sheltered corner of the carport. In
the bathroom, he peeled away layers of drenched clothing to find his skin
puckered and pale…where it wasn’t purple and red with scars, of course. His
whole body shook, with exhaustion, probably, coupled with reaction and maybe a
touch of hypothermia. He turned the hot water on as far as it would go, adding
just enough cold to keep from burning himself. Propping his hands on the tiles,
Daniel stood under the shower spray and gave himself permission to stop
thinking.