The Rancher's Lullaby. Leigh Duncan

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СКАЧАТЬ Mr. Garrett? I’m the one what messed up.”

      “You just head on back to the barn with all the others. But Josh?” Thinking of his recent conversation with Ty, Garrett softened the harsh look he aimed at the young cowhand. “Next time, mind that you finish the job before you go off birdwatchin’.”

      Josh tipped the brim of his hat with one hand. “Yessir.” He slapped his reins against his mount’s neck and moved off in the opposite direction.

      “Wanna fly, boy?” Garrett whispered to the horse who was born to run. The instant his heels touched Gold’s flanks, the stallion broke into a brisk lope that sent a sweat-drying breeze straight into Garrett’s face. He anchored his Stetson and kept moving, not slowing until they arrived at the solar panels, where several quick turns with his wrench tightened the critical tie-downs.

      Mounting up again, Garrett eyed the storm clouds scuttling across the sky. A shortcut across the fields might get them to the barn before the rain if he hurried. He loosened the reins and let Gold have his head. The horse surged forward.

      Powerful muscles churned beneath Garrett. He shushed the voice that said he should slow down. That all it would take to send him flying was for Gold to stick one hoof in a snake den. If they fell at this speed, he’d be lucky if he didn’t break his neck. Or Gold’s. Still, exhilarated by the speed and, yes, by the danger, Garrett didn’t try to slow the horse when they reached the first fence. Instead, he goaded the buckskin into taking the leap over the three strands of barbed wire. Wire that, given half a chance, would cut man and horse to ribbons.

      Gold’s hooves cleared the top line by a good two feet.

      Encouraged, Garrett leaned down until his chest nearly pressed against the horse’s neck. At the signal for more speed, Gold moved faster, his mane flying back, hooves pounding the dense grass. The horse grunted, his breath thunderous. Lather foamed along his neck. Wind plastered Garrett’s shirt against his arms.

      They were skirting around a stand of trees when Garrett spotted the next fence. He cursed, aware that he’d been watching for downed limbs and exposed roots when he should have been on the lookout for wire and posts. They were coming up on this one too fast for a jump, and he tugged the reins to the side, turning. Relief sent prickles down his arms when the horse’s path shifted parallel to the barbed wire.

      And damn, if he hadn’t ridden Gold straight into trouble. A corner post stood dead ahead, wicked barbed wire strands stretching in either direction as far as he could see.

      “Whoa, boy, whoa!” He hauled back on the reins, his heart sinking.

      Fence lines raced toward them even as the stallion’s muscles bunched and his powerful front legs locked. Time slowed until seconds lasted hours, though Garrett knew everything was happening very quickly. His butt lifted out of the saddle. His feet cleared the stirrups. The horse’s hind legs came up. Gold kicked and, still moving at a good clip, slid into the fence. Wire bit into the buckskin’s chest. The horse screamed. Garrett tucked himself into a ball and prayed for a soft landing. The ground rushed at him. He hit and hit hard. His breath whooshed out of him.

      He couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t summon enough strength to roll out of the way before a thousand pounds of bleeding horseflesh either sailed over the fence on top of him or tore straight through it, trailing wire.

      He could listen, though. Listen to Gold straining to free himself. Listen to the horse’s screams. Hear his own heart thudding against his chest.

      With the horse pressed against it, wire stretched. Posts creaked ominously. A sharp ping sounded as a nail straightened. It sailed past Garrett’s left ear. Hooves scrambled to find purchase in the thick grass. Dirt clods flew.

       This is it. Any second now, the fence will give way. Gold’ll come thundering down on top of me, and that’ll be the end.

      Fear sent his thoughts skittering. Faces of the people he loved blinked in and out like neon signs. He saw LJ and felt the sharp pang of regret. He’d never cradle his young son in his arms again. Never teach the boy how to muck a stall or ride a horse. He wouldn’t be there to walk his child to school, see him in a cap and gown, stand beside him in a church while a woman dressed in white slowly walked up the aisle. He’d never be able to tell his son how much he was loved. Unable to lift a finger, Garrett clung to the image of his baby boy.

      “Please, God,” he whispered. “Please.”

      Another nail let loose. Gold stumbled forward a step. The fence posts on either side bent precariously.

      Breathless, Garrett heaved himself onto one side and rolled. And rolled. He kept tumbling, side over side, until his chest unlocked. Sucking in air, he managed another couple of yards. He drew in a shallow breath and lay flat on his back, his arms flung out at his sides. For the next minute or so, he concentrated on drawing air in and shoving it out. When he could finally breathe without the sensation that each breath was his last, he spared a quick glance at the fence.

      Wire hung in loose strands from splintered wooden posts. Gold stood about ten feet away, shaking his head and blowing air. Blood ran in rivulets down the horse’s wide chest and legs. Groaning, Garrett flexed his toes and could barely believe it when they moved. Wonder filled him at the discovery that his knees still bent in the right direction. Reasonably certain he hadn’t broken anything and more than a little perplexed about it, he slowly rose to his feet. The shoulder that had hit the ground first sent up a twinge, and he rubbed it. He glanced around, spotting his hat in the grass on the far side of the fence. He slipped under the lowest strand. A sharp barb snagged his shirt, ripping a long tear in the cloth.

      “Jeez, Gold,” he exclaimed. The horse had to be in pain.

      He whistled, but the buckskin only eyed him nervously, tail switching. One ear flicked forward.

      “It’s all right,” Garrett said, forcing the tremble out of his voice. He eased to the horse’s side. “I’m gonna take care of you.”

      He ran a hand down the stallion’s front legs, checking for breaks, contusions or profuse bleeding. Other than a few nicks just above one knee, there were far fewer gashes than he’d expected. No bumps that might indicate a break, either, he noted with relief. He threaded his fingers through the horse’s dark mane. Gold shivered beneath his touch.

      “Hey, boy. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

      Moving slow and easy so as not to spook the understandably jumpy horse, he untied his canteen from the saddle and grabbed a spare bandana out of the bag strapped to the back jockey. After pouring a generous amount of water onto the rag, he gently grabbed Gold’s bridle.

      “Shh, shh, boy,” he murmured when the horse shook his head. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I need to see what’s going on here.”

      Garrett slipped his hand beneath the cheek piece and held tight while he dabbed at a series of evenly spaced gashes where the sharp spines of the barbed wire had broken through the horse’s thick hide. He sucked his teeth at a couple of wounds that looked deep enough to need stitches, but overall, the damage wasn’t as bad as he’d feared. He ran a hand over Gold’s withers, amazed that they’d both escaped his foolish escapade relatively unscathed. As a final check, he walked Gold in a circle, watching for a limp or some other sign that the horse couldn’t make the three-mile journey home. He patted the buckskin’s neck.

      “Thanks for not killing me, boy,” he whispered, his face pressed against Gold’s.

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