Page 103 of The Promise
Holding on for dear life, she forced herself to look down and immediately wished she hadn't. Her feet dangled high above the narrow gorge. The rocks looked even more sinister from up here than they had from the platform. She bit her lip, willing all her strength into her arms. Surely all those pull-ups in sixth grade were good for something.
The bucket's forward momentum died, and it swung back and forth, almost as if it was trying to shake her off. She gritted her teeth and tightened her grip. She'd be damned if she'd let an overgrown tin pail be the death of her.
From her dangling vantage point, she could still see the two men struggling. Amos had managed to draw the Colt and she watched with mounting terror as he turned the gun toward Michael's head.
She closed her eyes just as the sharp report came from the gun.
"Michael." She screamed his name, fighting to hang onto the undulating tram car.
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Cara forced herself to open her eyes, her fear for Michael momentarily distracting her from the searing pain in her arms. Michael was down, unmoving, and Striker teetered on the edge of the platform, arms windmilling wildly. Against the cacophony of the rushing water below, he lost his battle, his body tumbling down to smash against the river rocks.
Cara shuddered, reflexively tightening her grip, her eyes locked now on Michael. Willing him to move. Willing him to live. Slowly he struggled to his feet, and she exhaled slowly, relief flooding through her.
But it was short lived. A movement to her left caught her attention, a shadow cautiously detaching itself from the wall. A man carrying a rifle stepped into the light. She opened her mouth to call out a warning just as Michael spotted the man.
They stood for a second looking at each other, then Michael embraced him. Cara blew out a breath. A friend. The man was a friend. A minute later, shadow man was pointing at the oar car with his rifle and Michael was rushing to the edge of the platform, his face tight with worry. "Hang on, sweetheart," he yelled.
She bit back the desire to laugh. What exactly did he think she was going to do, free fall into a swan dive?
The bucket rocked and bucked as Michael swung out onto the cable. Hand over hand, he made his way toward her. The little tram car was rocking furiously now and she closed her eyes, swallowing back nausea. Her arms were beginning to weaken and she realized she couldn't feel the fingers of her left hand.
"I'm almost there. Just a few more feet."
She opened her eyes and her gaze met Michael's. She attempted a smile, but knew she'd failed miserably when the little muscle in his jaw started to jump as he worked to try and keep his face calm. He reached the edge of the bucket, but she was at the far end. Almost three feet away. In this position it seemed more like a million miles.
"Cara, sweetheart, you're going to have to inch your way around to this side of the bucket. Do you think you can do that?"
She gritted her teeth, and with a nod, forced the fingers of her left hand to move. For an agonizing second her entire weight was supported by her right arm, and then she felt her left hand close again around the lip of the ore car. Inch by agonizing inch, she moved along the bucket, stopping only when the swinging got too wild. Her eyes remained locked on Michael's as she tried to ignore the searing pain in her arms.
Finally, after what seemed an eternity, she reached Michael's side of the ore car. He was close enough to touch—not that she dared give in to the desire.
"Good girl."
She felt absurdly pleased with the compliment. No one could say she wasn't a trooper. Feeling light-headed and a little giddy, she wondered briefly if she was going to lose consciousness. She felt her eyes closing, darkness creeping around the edge of her vision.
"Cara, don't give up. We're almost there."
She forced her eyes back open, her gaze again locking with his. "What do I do now?" Her voice came out a cracked whisper and she wasn't sure he could hear her over the roar of the water below.
"I want you to swing up and grab me around the neck. Do you think you can do that?"
She looked down at the rushing water below and thought briefly about an act she'd seen once in a circus. They'd had a net.
"I'll catch you, don't worry."
Taking a deep breath, she rocked the car, swinging back and forth, getting used to the motion, then when the bucket arched upward and she was more or less level with Michael, she let go with her left hand, reaching for him as she let go with her right.
Alley oop…
She was flying. For one glorious second she was free, the horrible pressure on her arms relieved. Then, with a satisfying thunk, she collided with Michael, his arm circling her waist. They hung for a moment like that, suspended over the canyon. Then she twisted, locking first one arm and then the other around his neck, gripping her left wrist with her right hand.
"You all right?" he grunted, both hands back on the cable.
Again, she felt the urge to laugh. What a ridiculous question. But she didn't have any further time to worry about it. Michael started to move back across the wire, muscles straining with their combined weight.
Again their progress seemed agonizingly slow. She saw the worried face of shadow man. He was standing at the opening, hands out ready to help. About damn time somebody came to help them.
