Page 76 of Inventions of the Heart

How far was it to Benteen’s ranch? The horse was breathing heavily, carrying a double load and being driven hard.

Benteen growled and cursed as he kicked the poor horse mercilessly. If he got her to his home, he’d have ... what had the sheriff said? Michelle, who rarely forgot anything, couldn’t remember. But Irving hadn’t wanted to go out there alone. Men, Jarvis would have a crowd of men to fight for him.

The saddle horn gouged her with particular sharpness, and she twisted to escape Jarvis’s grip.

Wanting to stop this however she could, she thought of the knife she kept in her boot. No way to reach it. She could only think of one weapon. She turned so she was facing his leg and saw his pants had been ripped from knee to ankle by the glass. His bare leg was right there. She sank her teeth in hard right below his knee.

He roared and jerked, but she hung on as if her life depended on it. It very possibly did.

He slammed a fist into her face. She refused to let go, just dug her teeth in deeper, wanting to tear him apart.

Another blow knocked her hard enough that her grip was torn loose.

Dazed, dizzy, in agony from Jarvis’s battering fists. The thundering hooves, the dust, the smell of a terrified, furious, brutal man, the pain from his blows to her head. The gouging of her stomach. It all overwhelmed her, and she felt every muscle go limp and saw the world go black.

ZANE URGED EVERY OUNCE OFSPEEDout of Michelle’s little bay mare. The mare was no match for Zane’s stallion. His teeth gritted with rage as he saw Michelle fighting, hitting at Jarvis, kicking, trying to break his hold.

Then he saw Jarvis draw back to strike Michelle with his fist.

Michelle, Zane’s wife. Zane’s to protect.

Yes, the buckskin was a bigger, faster horse, but Jarvis had his hands full subduing Michelle and wasn’t getting top speed out of Zane’s stallion.

Zane closed the distance, but it was taking too long. He didn’t dare draw a gun. He couldn’t risk hitting Michelle. On a galloping horse his bullet could go anywhere, including into Michelle. Her brilliance, her beauty, her flood of ideas, silenced forever.

It was an unthinkable risk.

He bent lower over the mare’s neck. Pressed her with his thighs. They inched closer, closer. Benteen’s ranch was a long way off, but Zane knew the stallion’s endurance, andhe knew this little mare’s. This chase couldn’t go on much longer without Zane falling hopelessly behind.

Then it came to Zane: the one thing a cowboy could do to get into a fight when he couldn’t risk a deadly weapon. He reached back and, with a lifetime of experience, untied the leather thongs that held a lariat on the back of the saddle.

He had it in his hands as he closed the distance. He widened the loop, and knowing his own horse, he blew a shrill whistle and yelled, “Whoa, Buck!”

The buckskin, in full gallop, skidded, nearly sitting down. Jarvis twisted in the saddle just as Zane dropped a loop over his shoulders and yanked it tight. Buck reared up as Jarvis fought the rope and tried to get to his gun. All the jostling shook Michelle free of the hold Jarvis had on her, and she fell headfirst to the ground.

With a shout of fear, Zane tore Jarvis free of the saddle on the side away from Michelle. Zane saw the fall carry her, rolling away from the hooves of the prancing buckskin. Then the trembling stallion turned and came to Zane.

Zane leapt to the ground, leaving his nerve-rattled horses as he dashed to Jarvis’s side and hog-tied him like a spring calf. Only with Jarvis, Zane wasn’t nearly as gentle.

Jarvis roared and struggled.

Zane had no time for him and didn’t like the noise. He dragged Jarvis’s neckerchief up and used it to gag him, then Zane rushed to Michelle’s side just as Irving and Stockwood caught up to them.

Dropping to his knees, Zane rolled Michelle to her back. Her face was bleeding. Her lip split.

Her head lolled to the side as he lifted her into his arms.She needed his attention, or he’d have fallen on Jarvis and torn him to shreds with his bare hands.

He quickly pressed a hand to her chest and felt her heartbeat. Felt her chest rise and fall. But she was out cold. Her face an ashen white under the ugly swelling bruise left by Jarvis’s fist.

Irving was there, kneeling across from Zane.

At a glance, Zane saw the sheriff replacing the rope Zane had tied with shackles on Jarvis’s arms and legs.

Trusting Stockwood to handle Jarvis, Zane went back to tending Michelle. Irving jumped up and was back in seconds with a canteen. He dampened his own kerchief and pressed the cool cloth to Michelle’s battered face.

Zane ran his hands over her, carefully checking for broken bones. Her feet flexed as he felt her ankles above her half boots. It gave him hope that her back and neck weren’t broken.

“I think she’s just knocked cold.” Irving had a look in his eyes, like a man with experience in this kind of thing. It helped Zane steady himself. He’d been praying like a devout monk the whole ride out here. Now he started again. Asking for God’s care, God’s healing hand.

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