Page 19 of The Wounded Warrior

He stepped out of the truck as soon as his heart stopped pounding, intending to get the bay out of the road and figure out which piece of LeBlanc’s fence was down so he could tell them.

The mare bobbed her head as if to sayGood plan, dude. At least she wore a halter.

“Hey, sweetheart. Aren’t you a pretty girl?”

She nodded again and stepped toward him, then another two horses came up out of the culvert. Well, hell.

He grabbed his phone out of his pocket. “Call LeBlanc.”

The call went right to voicemail. Fuckkity fuck. “Okay, guys, we have to get out of the road.” He waved his arms at the newcomers, hoping to turn then back the way they came.

“Call Lori,” he told his damned phone, which had to be good for something.

“Hey, boss! ’s’up?”

“I’m almost at the LeBlanc ranch, and they have a fence down. I got horses in the road, and Matt isn’t answering. Keep trying his number, will you, and see if you can get someone out here to help me.” He could cowboy up, but he was no horse whisperer.

“No problem.”

He hung up and headed for the truck. He had rope in there and he could…

Another half dozen horses, these guys yearlings, came over, dancing and worried, snorting and tossing their heads.

What the ever-loving fuck? These guys shouldn’t even be pastured up here. What was Matt thinking?

Okay. Plan B. He got into his toolbox and found his roadside kit, setting out cones so anyone coming their way would slow down. Then he went for his rope, hoping if he got that lead mare the rest might follow.

A dog trotted down the road, barking furiously.

“You’re not helping, pup. Be quiet. Why couldn’t you be a border collie? Something quiet and useful. Herd, boy. Herd!” Rory cackled maniacally at himself. God, he cracked himself up. “Okay, sweet girl. You and me, we’re gonna save the day.”

He hadn’t been a savior in years, so it was probably about time.

Rory drew up a loop, glad that the old girl seemed pretty placid. The yearlings would be another matter altogether. They were obviously scared. Horses liked to know where they belonged.

“Okay, girl. Whoa, now.” He remembered his dad had a trick of distracting a horse’s attention with one hand and roping with the other.

He saw a truck heading down the road, moving way toofast, and he started moving quicker.Come on, come on and let’s do this. “Off the road, everybody!”

Rory swung the rope in wide circles, herding now instead of trying to catch. Even if the damned fool animals went the wrong way it was better than being hit. He shouted unintelligible shit, just needing the herd to move.

The yearlings went first, kicking and snorting, but running back the way they’d come.

“Good babies. Good deal. Off the road.”

The truck just kept coming. Like really fast. Jesus. Rory went a little nuts, charging at the damned horses until they all scattered back into the culvert, except the frickin’ mare that had some kind of fucking road fetish or had fallen in love with him or something.

Jesus Christ. There was a gun. Someone had a gun.

He shook his head, slapping the mare’s flank with the rope. “Move it. I have to get the goddamned dog, too!”

Her head tossed and she whinnied, then she reared up, the rope that was around her neck jerking and tangling around his wrist.

“Fuck.” He tried to stay calm, but the truck was drifting into the wrong lane like it was fucking aiming for them. “Come on, you bitch.” He ignored the grinding pain in his arm and used the snarled rope as leverage to drag her sorry ass off the asphalt.

“What the hell? McConnell? What the fuck are you doing?”

“He’s got a gun!” Jesus Christ. Rory screamed at Matt LeBlanc, hoping the man understood. “He’s got a gun!”

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