left. Resolutely slowing her rapid gasps for air, she calmed
herself enough to see the trail of broken branches.
The bushes directly in front of her parted
and Ryan stepped through. Sandy sprang backward, swallowing her cry
of alarm. He had a fair-sized calf cradled in his arms.
"Take her back to the clearing," he ordered
brusquely, shoving the calf at Sandy.
The weight of the calf was less than she
expected and Sandy stumbled a bit when she overcompensated.
"Ry, what is it?"
He caught her arm and steadied her, then
shot her a pointed look. "Just do it," he barked. "And don't leave
the clearing. Don't follow me under any circumstance." Then he was
gone, swallowed again by the thick brush.
Terrified, she fought the tangled
underbrush, making her way back to the clearing. The squirming calf
bellowed frantically in her ear.
"Shush, baby." She set the small calf down
onto the blanket where she and Ryan had shared their picnic, and
sat down next to her. Rubbing the calf between her huge brown eyes,
Sandy was grateful when the baby's bawling quieted.
She wished she could still her own
trembling, as she sat staring at the bushes, awaiting Ryan's
return. The sound of a nearby rifle report tore through Sandy as
though the bullet had physically ripped into her flesh. Leaping to
her feet, she was halfway across the clearing when she recalled
Ryan's instructions not to follow him for any reason. So once
again, she found herself waiting.
****
"How badly are you pinned?" Sandy asked when
Mick checked in. "Is there any chance you can work yourself out
some?"
"Not a chance," Mick told her easily. She
could almost picture a grin. "Got a cement beam across my legs and
a chunk of something across part of my chest. Pretty sure at least
one of my legs is broke. Feels like a couple of ribs bought it,
too. Kind of hard to catch my breath. I can hear my partner
breathing but he's not answering. Don't know how bad off he is.
It's hard to just lie here, Angel."
She could hear Mick's labored breathing. "I
know it is. I wish I could be there to help you."
"Oh, sweetheart you're helping from where
you are. Nothing you could do here."
"I could hold your hand at least."
"You know, Angel, it kind of feels like you
already are holding my hand. It's real nice knowing someone's out
there who cares. I'm glad you're on the other end of the line."
"I'm glad, too," she said truthfully. "I'm
not letting you go, Mick."
****
Ryan surveyed the scene, trying to be
objective. The cow was a mess. Once, her hide had been a honeyed
tan, but it was now caked with layers of blood, which had run
freely from a wound on her flank. The trampled, blood-stained grass
told the story. She hadn't gone down easily, but finally had lost
so much blood she couldn't stay on her feet.
He looked from the flank wound up to the
animal's head, into which he'd just put a Power-Point from his
Winchester. It was the only comfort he'd been able to provide. A
muscle worked in his clenched jaw. He might have fired the kill
shot but he hadn't been the one to bring about the cow's death. It
still hurt to his core.
Ryan estimated she'd been shot within the
past twenty-four hours. He supposed it was possible she'd been
mistaken for a deer or an elk but since it wasn't hunting season,
that meant someone was possibly poaching. Based on the absence of
the Cross MC herd from prime grazing land, though, his gut told him
he'd stumbled onto a very different picture.
With his teeth clamped against emotional
pain, he crouched next to the carcass and pulled a folding knife
from his pocket. The blade was short but sharp and it was all he
had, so it would have to do. Knowing of only one way to recover the
slug in her flank, Ryan began methodically slicing into the cow's
flesh.
****
She heard him fighting his way through the
thick brush. When he emerged, he carried his shirt bunched up in
one hand. His eyes met hers and she felt her tension drain. He was
okay. His long
herself enough to see the trail of broken branches.
The bushes directly in front of her parted
and Ryan stepped through. Sandy sprang backward, swallowing her cry
of alarm. He had a fair-sized calf cradled in his arms.
"Take her back to the clearing," he ordered
brusquely, shoving the calf at Sandy.
The weight of the calf was less than she
expected and Sandy stumbled a bit when she overcompensated.
"Ry, what is it?"
He caught her arm and steadied her, then
shot her a pointed look. "Just do it," he barked. "And don't leave
the clearing. Don't follow me under any circumstance." Then he was
gone, swallowed again by the thick brush.
Terrified, she fought the tangled
underbrush, making her way back to the clearing. The squirming calf
bellowed frantically in her ear.
"Shush, baby." She set the small calf down
onto the blanket where she and Ryan had shared their picnic, and
sat down next to her. Rubbing the calf between her huge brown eyes,
Sandy was grateful when the baby's bawling quieted.
She wished she could still her own
trembling, as she sat staring at the bushes, awaiting Ryan's
return. The sound of a nearby rifle report tore through Sandy as
though the bullet had physically ripped into her flesh. Leaping to
her feet, she was halfway across the clearing when she recalled
Ryan's instructions not to follow him for any reason. So once
again, she found herself waiting.
****
"How badly are you pinned?" Sandy asked when
Mick checked in. "Is there any chance you can work yourself out
some?"
"Not a chance," Mick told her easily. She
could almost picture a grin. "Got a cement beam across my legs and
a chunk of something across part of my chest. Pretty sure at least
one of my legs is broke. Feels like a couple of ribs bought it,
too. Kind of hard to catch my breath. I can hear my partner
breathing but he's not answering. Don't know how bad off he is.
It's hard to just lie here, Angel."
She could hear Mick's labored breathing. "I
know it is. I wish I could be there to help you."
"Oh, sweetheart you're helping from where
you are. Nothing you could do here."
"I could hold your hand at least."
"You know, Angel, it kind of feels like you
already are holding my hand. It's real nice knowing someone's out
there who cares. I'm glad you're on the other end of the line."
"I'm glad, too," she said truthfully. "I'm
not letting you go, Mick."
****
Ryan surveyed the scene, trying to be
objective. The cow was a mess. Once, her hide had been a honeyed
tan, but it was now caked with layers of blood, which had run
freely from a wound on her flank. The trampled, blood-stained grass
told the story. She hadn't gone down easily, but finally had lost
so much blood she couldn't stay on her feet.
He looked from the flank wound up to the
animal's head, into which he'd just put a Power-Point from his
Winchester. It was the only comfort he'd been able to provide. A
muscle worked in his clenched jaw. He might have fired the kill
shot but he hadn't been the one to bring about the cow's death. It
still hurt to his core.
Ryan estimated she'd been shot within the
past twenty-four hours. He supposed it was possible she'd been
mistaken for a deer or an elk but since it wasn't hunting season,
that meant someone was possibly poaching. Based on the absence of
the Cross MC herd from prime grazing land, though, his gut told him
he'd stumbled onto a very different picture.
With his teeth clamped against emotional
pain, he crouched next to the carcass and pulled a folding knife
from his pocket. The blade was short but sharp and it was all he
had, so it would have to do. Knowing of only one way to recover the
slug in her flank, Ryan began methodically slicing into the cow's
flesh.
****
She heard him fighting his way through the
thick brush. When he emerged, he carried his shirt bunched up in
one hand. His eyes met hers and she felt her tension drain. He was
okay. His long
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