Page 1 of Blazing Hot Nights
One
Five years ago, the beauty of Bison Ridge Ranch on a warm summer day was everything I loved. The warm sunshine on the brown backs of the giant animals that grazed on the green grass in the pastures. There was joy in knowing I had done something with my ranch that few others in the country could.
That was then, this is now.
Now—five years since the day I lost everything—my life has been consumed by bitterness for what the harsh landscape had taken from me. More than anything, I resented my father for sending me to this cold, unforgiving place. The work, the animals, my life, and this state were nothing but hardships. I had given everything to Wisconsin, and all it gave me in return was heartache. Heartache that I couldn’t shake no matter how many miles of fence line I rode on the back of my old workhorse.
Trying to make a living on this torturous plain was difficult at best. The few months of the year that offered enough warmth to grow crops should have been easy, but they, too, were nothing but pain. In the twelve years I’d been working this ranch, there hadn’t been one year when we got the right amount of rain or sun or anything else. My father, Ash McAwley, insisted I stay and overcome the hardships I faced early on here. That was easy for him to say while sitting in the middle of central Texas. It was a hell of a lot harder to do as an eighteen-year-old kid in the middle of a Wisconsin winter.
He may have prepared me to run a ranch, but there was no way he could prepare me for the challenges of raising animals in a climate like this one. I’d faced blizzards, floods, tornados, and hail. If Mother Nature was trying to convince this Texas boy that she was the boss, it had worked. Even in the face of all that, I stayed and made the ranch what my father wanted it to be: successful.
I swung the reins around and nudged the horse under me. “Come on, Rapunzel, we’re not done with the fences yet.”
The old girl didn’t even lift her head from the grass she was munching. I patted her neck and gave her a moment to enjoy the sunshine and sweet grass. Rapunzel had been with me since the day I arrived in Wisconsin and had done more than her fair share of work to make the ranch successful. She was my constant companion, and for that I’d let the old girl have a few moments of joy in a place where I would never find any again.
Finally, Rapunzel lifted her head and moseyed up to the fence again, allowing my trained eye to check for any tears in the wire put there by the giant animals that roamed this land. Most people are surprised to find out a basic wire fence is all that’s needed to hold in a bison. I hadn’t believed it either until I saw it with my own eyes. The fence will stop them, but their strong horns can hook in the wire and tear a hole in it, which weakens the fence and could allow one of the giant animals to escape. It was my job to make sure that didn’t happen … again. Bison Ridge Ranch had eight pastures, and all of them were fenced to prevent my bison from helping themselves to my neighbor’s grass. That much fencing required a lot of time on the back of a horse to check the fences twice a day. It was the only way to keep my animals from escaping onto the neighbor’s property. It still happened from time to time, but when you’re working with wild animals, you can’t always predict what they’ll do, how they’ll do it, or when they’ll do it. I had learned the hard way that it happens when you least expect it.
I usually made one of my ranch hands ride the ridges to check the fences, but today wasn’t usual. Today, I knew it was wise for me to keep to myself, even if that meant being on the back of a horse miles from home.
Home.
Would Bison Ridge ever be home? I had once thought it could be, but now it was just a wasteland of hopes and dreams. The hopes and dreams of a naïve eighteen-year-old who thought he could break this land and these animals to impress his father. Instead, Bison Ridge broke that man when it took his wife from him. Still, faced with unrelenting grief, his father refused to let him accept defeat.
Truthfully, I’d considered walking away every morning for the last five years, but it wouldn’t matter. Wherever I was, the guilt and pain would follow me there. Running back to the Lone Star State with my tail between my legs would only serve to prove my father right. He would say I couldn’t hack it without him. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of uttering those words. I already relied on him enough, but that was about to change. I, Blaze McAwley, was going to own Bison Ridge Ranch by this time next year. All I had to do was convince one very stubborn woman to sell me some of her land.
Rapunzel swung her head and snorted, dragging a chuckle from me as I gave her neck a loving pat. “Exactly how I feel about the situation, old girl. Not likely going to happen.”
The ridge bucked to the east a little and Wellspring Creek opened up below us. The sound of screeching metal took me by surprise, and I instinctively turned Rapunzel toward the sound. “What in Sam Hill was that?”
I stared at the old bridge that crossed the creek for a moment. It was the only way in and out of Bison Ridge Ranch and our neighboring ranch, Heavenly Lane. With the massive amount of rain we’d had this month, the creek was still swollen and all but touched the bottom of the narrow, one-lane bridge. If the swirling water wiped it out, we’d be unable to get to town. No one could get to us either, and that could be deadly when working on a ranch.
I dug my heels into Rapunzel’s sides and ran her wide open into the valley as soon as I realized I was seeing the spinning rear wheels of a truck. A cattle trailer was still attached to the back of the truck and was hanging on the edge of the bridge precariously.
The truck dangled in the water, bobbing back and forth over the edge of the bridge from the force of the current. The driver, who I could see through the passenger-side window, wasn’t making any attempt to get out of the truck. I noticed that person had long, brown hair. I knew that hair, that truck, and that woman.
“Dammit!” I pulled the horse to a stop and jumped down onto the edge of the creek bed. “Dammit, Heaven!”
The cab was filling with water from the open driver-side window. I didn’t have much time to get her out before she drowned. She was unconscious, which complicated matters, but I didn’t have many options. I had to get her out before the bridge gave way and plunged the truck all the way into the raging water.
After the spring thaw, and days of rain, the normally lazy creek had become rapids. It would love nothing more than to suck me under and carry me downstream, but there was no other way to get to Heaven. I grabbed my rope off the saddlebag and tied off one end to the bridge pylon that was left standing after she crashed through the railing. I lashed the other end of the rope to my waist and assessed the situation one last time. Heaven had been at the cattle auction this morning, which meant the cattle trailer was empty, but hopefully still had enough weight to hold the truck long enough for me to get her out. The trailer was hooked on the railing, but it bobbed up and down with the roiling of the water, which told me it was anyone’s guess how long it would hold.
I tugged at the rope to test it, praying I wasn’t too late. I couldn’t lose this woman. Not onthisday! Why today of all days did this have to happen? It was an omen I didn’t want to concentrate on while I screamed her name.
“Heaven!” I yelled, but the rushing water drowned out my voice. “Heaven!”
The water was still breath-stealing cold when I jumped in, but I didn’t have time to think about it. I had to get to Heaven before the truck shifted. It looked to be braced against a rock, but with the violent water rushing past it, that could change at any second. The water was at my waist, which made getting from the shore to the truck treacherous, but I used the rope and the bridge to pull myself along—half walking, half swimming—until I reached the cab. The body draped over the wheel still hadn’t moved, and the water swirled and rushed across the windshield. I finally grabbed the door handle and stared right into the unconscious face of Heaven Marie Lane.
I shook my head. It was a ridiculous name for a ridiculous woman, but I wouldn’t let her die out here. I yanked on the handle of the door, struggling against the force of the rushing water. Opening it would fill the cab even faster, but she was unconscious and couldn’t get herself out of the window. As it was, if I couldn’t get her to wake up, I was going to have to unhook her seatbelt, drag her out of the truck, and carry her to shore through the raging water. That worried me the most. Her left shoulder and arm were paralyzed from a childhood accident, and I had to be careful to not twist or hurt them worse. The truck shifted again. I had to get her out of there now!
With a heave, I wrenched the door open, and the water whooshed inside. My back braced against the open door, I had to fight with all I had not to get pulled under by the cascading creek water. Knowing I had only seconds to get Heaven out before the cab was fully submerged, I fought the button on the seatbelt until it finally released, then shifted her weight into my arms. Her long, brown hair fell against my shoulder the same way it had that night years ago when I found the courage to kiss her beautiful lips.
I shifted her fully across my shoulder, grateful she was no bigger than a fairy, and shoved off the door, being careful so it didn’t slam into us before we were clear. I don’t remember how I got us both through the raging water without falling. All I could think about was getting the woman in my arms to the shore so I could get her help. Heaven had suffered as much in this place as I had. No. She had suffered more than anyone here and she deserved better. I fell to my knees on the bank and crawled up it until I could ease the beautiful, tiny, and still unconscious woman onto the grass.
With one slash of my knife, I cut the rope around my waist and climbed up the bank ahead of her, pulling her with me until I could lay her out and check her over. She was breathing and had a pulse, but she was still out cold. I checked her neck for fractures or dislocations and—content that she hadn’t broken any bones there or elsewhere—I hoisted her over Rapunzel as carefully as I could. Once I was in the saddle, I cradled her to me and flicked the reins.
“Ride,” I called to Rapunzel, holding the reins awkwardly while the old workhorse—sensing the urgency—covered the distance between the bridge and my place at a trot without too much jostling of our extra passenger. “Hang on, Heaven, we’re almost there,” I promised, my ranch coming into view.
“Beau! Beau!” I yelled as we approached the yard.
