ten-thirty, he rolled out of bed, dressed, and took a moment to look in on Erin. Then, shrugging into his sheepskin coat, he went out to his truck.
Icy sleet spattered the pickup as he drove the back roads of the Rimrock, using his powerful spotlight to check every fence, every pasture where the cattle were gathered. Not that he could do much if any of them were in trouble. That would have to wait for daylight. But every animal was precious. In terms of hard cash, the death of any cow, calf, or steer would mean a two-thousand-dollar loss to the ranch.
The crews had done all they could to protect the cattle against cold and wind. But in an open pasture, there wasnât much that could be done about lightning. As a boy Will had seen what one lightning strike could do to a closely packed herd. The memory of those charred, swollen bodies would haunt his nightmares for the rest of his life.
Thereâd been lightning strikes, dangerously close, as the storm front moved through. Dawn would tell if the lightning had done any damage. Tonight there was nothing he could do.
He was turning around to go back to the house when the spotlight caught a movement along the fence. Driving closer, Will saw that one of the spring calves, probably panicked by the storm, had run headlong into the fence and become caught in the wire. Unless it was cut loose, the young animal wouldnât last till morning. Turning up his collar, Will climbed out in the icy downpour and hauled his toolbox out of the back of the truck. He got a rope as well. If the six-hundred-pound calf tried to fight him, heâd need a way to control it. Maybe he ought to call the bunkhouse for some help. But he remembered then that heâd left his cell phone on the nightstand by the bed. He was on his own.
Fortunately for him, the calf had worn itself out struggling and didnât put up much resistance. Still, it took Will a good twenty minutes, working in the glare of the headlights, to cut through the tangle of wire and free the calf, which loped off bawling for its mother. By then, his hands were numb inside his soaked, half-frozen leather gloves. His teeth were chattering, his clothes clammy against his chilled skin.
He took time to close the hole in the fence and put away his tools. Then he piled into the truck, turned up the heater, and headed back to the house.
At least he wouldnât have to worry about Tori tonight. Sheâd phoned Erin that afternoon, saying she had a date that night and planned to drive out to the ranch in the morning. She was probably snuggled in a warm bed with that fancy new man of hers right now. Well, why the hell not? Tori was a free woman. She could damn well sleep with anybody she wanted. What was it to him? Right now, all he wanted was a hot shower and a few hours of decent rest before first light.
Heâd made it to his bedroom and was peeling his wet clothes off his shivering body when he remembered his cell phone. Reflexively, he reached for it. Heâd been out of the house for more than an hour. Tired as he was, on a night like this, he needed to check for messages.
There was only one. Willâs throat jerked tight as he heard Toriâs frightened voice, cutting off before she could tell him where she was, if she even knew. The fool woman mustâve decided to come tonight, after all. And sheâd been caught in the storm, driving blind in that old truck with its worn tires. Lord, she could be anywhere. He checked the time on the message. She mustâve called soon after heâd left the house. Wherever she was, sheâd been there for at least an hour.
Will grabbed for dry clothes and pulled them on in urgent haste. Somewhere out there, in the storm, lost and cold and scared, Tori was waiting for him to find her.
* * *
The cab of the rusty pickup was frigid inside. Shivering beneath her midweight coat, Tori searched the backseat for some kind of blanket or even an old spare jacket. But the truck
Icy sleet spattered the pickup as he drove the back roads of the Rimrock, using his powerful spotlight to check every fence, every pasture where the cattle were gathered. Not that he could do much if any of them were in trouble. That would have to wait for daylight. But every animal was precious. In terms of hard cash, the death of any cow, calf, or steer would mean a two-thousand-dollar loss to the ranch.
The crews had done all they could to protect the cattle against cold and wind. But in an open pasture, there wasnât much that could be done about lightning. As a boy Will had seen what one lightning strike could do to a closely packed herd. The memory of those charred, swollen bodies would haunt his nightmares for the rest of his life.
Thereâd been lightning strikes, dangerously close, as the storm front moved through. Dawn would tell if the lightning had done any damage. Tonight there was nothing he could do.
He was turning around to go back to the house when the spotlight caught a movement along the fence. Driving closer, Will saw that one of the spring calves, probably panicked by the storm, had run headlong into the fence and become caught in the wire. Unless it was cut loose, the young animal wouldnât last till morning. Turning up his collar, Will climbed out in the icy downpour and hauled his toolbox out of the back of the truck. He got a rope as well. If the six-hundred-pound calf tried to fight him, heâd need a way to control it. Maybe he ought to call the bunkhouse for some help. But he remembered then that heâd left his cell phone on the nightstand by the bed. He was on his own.
Fortunately for him, the calf had worn itself out struggling and didnât put up much resistance. Still, it took Will a good twenty minutes, working in the glare of the headlights, to cut through the tangle of wire and free the calf, which loped off bawling for its mother. By then, his hands were numb inside his soaked, half-frozen leather gloves. His teeth were chattering, his clothes clammy against his chilled skin.
He took time to close the hole in the fence and put away his tools. Then he piled into the truck, turned up the heater, and headed back to the house.
At least he wouldnât have to worry about Tori tonight. Sheâd phoned Erin that afternoon, saying she had a date that night and planned to drive out to the ranch in the morning. She was probably snuggled in a warm bed with that fancy new man of hers right now. Well, why the hell not? Tori was a free woman. She could damn well sleep with anybody she wanted. What was it to him? Right now, all he wanted was a hot shower and a few hours of decent rest before first light.
Heâd made it to his bedroom and was peeling his wet clothes off his shivering body when he remembered his cell phone. Reflexively, he reached for it. Heâd been out of the house for more than an hour. Tired as he was, on a night like this, he needed to check for messages.
There was only one. Willâs throat jerked tight as he heard Toriâs frightened voice, cutting off before she could tell him where she was, if she even knew. The fool woman mustâve decided to come tonight, after all. And sheâd been caught in the storm, driving blind in that old truck with its worn tires. Lord, she could be anywhere. He checked the time on the message. She mustâve called soon after heâd left the house. Wherever she was, sheâd been there for at least an hour.
Will grabbed for dry clothes and pulled them on in urgent haste. Somewhere out there, in the storm, lost and cold and scared, Tori was waiting for him to find her.
* * *
The cab of the rusty pickup was frigid inside. Shivering beneath her midweight coat, Tori searched the backseat for some kind of blanket or even an old spare jacket. But the truck
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