Page 46 of Conveniently Wed
He wanted the girls as far away from the animals as they could be—just in case.
He was as nervous as the cattle, but he projected a calm he didn’t really feel for both the animal under him and the other cowboys who were looking to him for direction.
If the cattle got spooked by either the lights or the loud, rolling thunder, they could stampede, and that was something that no one out there wanted.
He thought he’d better check on Fran and her sister before the storm really got rolling. He’d shouted his intention to the nearest man and turned his horse to head that way, when he spotted one of them running toward the cattle, waving her arms and shouting, though he couldn’t make out her words.
From this distance, it would be impossible to tell them apart in the same drab dresses they wore. He suspected it was Fran, and spurred his mount into a gallop. Had something happened? Unease tightened his throat.
Her hair flew out behind her like a banner. She clutched her dress above her knees so she could run at full speed. They met in the middle of the open prairie. He reined in, not wanting to run her over with her horse.
She stopped at his knee, clawing at him, panic evident. “Emma’s gone,” she gasped. “We stopped and I tried to secure the wagon and she’s just gone.”
“Wait a minute—she ran off?” He shifted in the saddle, looking to the wagon but seeing nothing out of place. No girl waiting there, either.
“I don’t know. What if Underhill’s men took her?”
Unless whoever had been following them had circled around in front and specifically hidden in that stand of trees, they wouldn’t have had time to grab Emma. More likely she’dwandered away from the wagon. It was still a dangerous proposition, with this storm coming on.
“Did she say anything? Did you see her walk off?”
Fran shook her head in the negative. She couldn’t catch her breath to answer and he didn’t want to waste any more time. He reached down and swept Fran up into the saddle behind him, ignoring the blast of pain from his injured hand.
“Hold on,” he commanded.
Her arms came around him, clasping in front of his midsection. He could feel her breaths heaving, from panic or exertion or both.
He kicked his mount and the horse took off. He made a beeline for the wagon, and when they got there, he urged the horse around the wagon quickly. He couldn’t find any evidence that another horseman had come through there.
“She didn’t say anything?” he demanded. “Anything about running away?”
“No!” Fran replied, voice urgent. “Why would she? There’s nowhere to go.”
A bright bolt of lightning split the sky and immediately a loud clap of thunder shook the ground.
If the rain came fast, like it looked like it would, a flash flood was a real possibility.
His horse reared unexpectedly, and it was all he could do to hold on with his thighs and grip the saddle horn with his good hand.
Fran slid away behind him, but with his injury he couldn’t reach for her. He barely kept his saddle.
Her arms squeezed his midsection tightly, but he still felt her slipping.
“Whoa, boy, whoa,” he managed.
The horse settled, all four feet back on the ground. Fran adjusted herself behind him, breathing hard.
“You okay?” he asked.
She said something, but he couldn’t tell if it was in the affirmative.
His own thudding heart made him mistake the first sounds of rain against the hard-packed earth, but the wetness quickly pounded his shoulders, disabusing him of the notion he was getting out of this dry.
He hadn’t even had time to put on his slicker.
The immediate pounding rain brought with it the frightening reality of the situation. If Emma was caught out in this in the wrong lay of land, she could be in real danger. And both she and Fran were city girls. Would she even know to find higher ground?
He kicked his horse again, pushing into the brushy trees, squinting in the low light to make out if she hid in any of the shadows. It was slightly darker here, the noise of the raindrops dampened by the foliage around them.
