Page 131 of Marry Me, Maybe?
I tightened my grip on Junebug’s reins until the leather bit deep. “I can’t leave him,” I whispered. “I won’t.”
Not used to riding Junebug alone, I approached her cautiously, but she didn’t budge or fuss the way she usually did when I’d attempted in the past. As soon as my weight hit leather, she broke into a ground-eating lope, arrowing back down the lane the way she’d come.
The first fat drops of rain hit like thrown pebbles. Wind slapped my shirt flat against my chest, then tugged it sideways, and thunder rolled hard enough to rattle my teeth.
“Find him, girl,” I said low into her mane. She flattened her ears and lengthened her stride. I had no experience controlling her, but I didn’t need it. She kept her pace, moving fast and with purpose.
I let Junebug pick her line, trusting that instinct of hers to lead us to the man we both loved. We cut through the gate and along the inside of the fence. On the far side of the draw, a loose bunch of yearlings bunched and flowed like black water, spooked but contained.
We crested a rise and dropped into the lee of a shallow dip. Junebug pulled left toward the far fence.
The hat came first, lying in the grass. Then the churned mud, the tangle of hoof prints, and the fence bent at a wrong angle. And Matty caught half-hanging in it.
He was upright, sort of, one boot jammed in muck, one knee down, his left sleeve raked to threads and snagged in barbed wire. His forearm was caught where the shirt had wound and tightened, barbs sunk shallow into his flesh. He was breathing hard, face pale, jaw clenched.
“Matt! I’m here!”
Relief shot through me so fast it burned. I slid off the horse, tied Junebug to a fence post so she didn’t try to get to Matty, then squelched through the mud to him.
“Look at you. You rode Junebug,” he said.
“Yeah. Don’t move,” I said, even though he wasn’t going anywhere. I had to force my voice level. “You’re good. I’ve got you. How the hell did this happen?”
“Rescued a calf, and the goddamn idiot rammed me into the fence.” He hissed when the wind lifted and the wire bit into his skin. “The more I tried to untangle myself, the more damage it did. Fucking hooks are buried into my skin.”
“Let me take a look. Your dad’s behind me in his truck.”
Matty tried to move his arm and flinched, teeth gritted. Blood had soaked through the shredded sleeve, slick and ugly against the wire. It wasn’t just his shirt. The barbs had chewed into his flesh, hooked like fishhooks in tender skin. My stomach turned.
“Don’t move,” I said sharply, hovering my hand over his wrist. “You’ll make it worse.”
His laugh came low and ragged. “Kinda figured that out the hard way already, babe.”
Gray’s truck slid to a stop, gravel and mud spitting from under the tires. He was out before the engine coughed down, toolbox clanging against his knee.
“Good God, son,” Gray muttered, skidding to a halt beside us. “You’re not satisfied until all my hair is gray, are you?”
“I think I got a few today too,” I muttered.
Gray set the box down and snapped it open. “Wire’s in deep. We’ll have to cut close to the skin.”
Matty’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t say a word. Hisbreath came shallow, steady like he was wrestling it under control.
“Hold him still,” Gray said. He had pliers in hand, jaw already set.
“I’ve got him.” I bracketed Matty’s shoulders with my arms and pressed his face into my neck, wishing I could spare him the pain. He sagged a little against me and groaned. “I’ve got you, Matt. Just stay with me.”
The first snip came with a metallic twang, the barbed strand jerking loose. Matty bit my shoulder hard, his knees nearly buckling. My throat closed tight at the sound he made, but I kept my grip firm, whispering into his ear, “Almost there. Almost there, my love.”
Gray worked fast as we tried to beat the worst of the storm. Fat drops already pelted us and the earth. Each barb had to be cut, then backed out, the skin dragging with it like Velcro tearing.
“Shit!” Matty hissed as one barb came free from the crook of his elbow, leaving a welted, bloody gash. His head dropped forward, rain plastering his hair across his face.
“Easy. Easy.” I wiped at his forehead with my sleeve. His skin was clammy, slick with sweat despite the cold.
Another snap, another barb freed. Gray’s hands were steady, precise. Mine shook against Matty’s chest as I held him. I hated seeing him in pain.
“Last one,” Gray said grimly.
