The herd was already jumpy. It wouldn’t take much to set off more of the cattle. Too many of them running would be impossible for the two of them to turn by themselves. They would be caught in the stampede.
Angus spurred his horse as he went after them, hoping to cut them off and turn them back before the others began to move. He rode blind, the rain painful as it pelted him. The wind lay over the grass in front of him, moving like ocean waves in an angry sea.
He turned the handful of spooked cattle, steering them back toward the herd. As he did, he spotted Jinx through the rain. She and her horse appeared almost ghostlike in a lightning flash. She’d ridden out and had turned the others. The rain was so loud that when it suddenly stopped, he felt as if he’d gone deaf.
He looked over at Jinx. She sat on her horse, glancing around as surprised as he was. Just as quickly, it began to hail. Ice pellets the size of quarters fell in a wall of white that blotted out everything. He ducked his head to it, the noise as deafening as the thunder and rain had been. The hail pummeled him and the side of the mountain, quickly covering the ground and the backs of the cattle.
He rode his horse under a high, large pine tree to wait out the hailstorm. As he did, he could hear the lightning and thunder moving off over the mountains. It wasn’t until the hail began to let up, that he saw Jinx again. She sat astride her horse under a pine tree only yards away. He saw the relief on her face.
More than relief. She smiled with the kind of joy that comes with knowing you made it through something challenging. He returned her smile as he took off his hat and shook off the melting hailstones. The herd stood, backs coated white, the storm over. Angus settled his Stetson back on his head and felt himself relax a little as droplets of moisture fell from the sodden pines as the storm moved on as quickly as it had appeared.
WYATT WATCHED THE storm pass from under a large pine tree low on the mountain. Next to him, Travis Frank wrung out his hat. “This has to be one of your worst ideas ever, T.D.”
“Quit complaining,” Wyatt said as he looked around the sodden camp. “It isn’t like that was your first thunderstorm—or your last if you’re lucky.” Travis grumbled under his breath as T.D. emerged from the tree he’d been under, stretched and walked over to them.
“One hell of a storm,” the cowboy said, laughing. He’d clearly used the time trapped under the tree while waiting for the hail to stop to take a nip or two from one of the bottles of whiskey he’d brought along.
“You realize that he’s going to get us killed or thrown in jail,” Travis said under his breath to Wyatt.
“Ready to ride?” T.D. asked jovially. The man had never made it a secret that he loved storms. T.D. loved loud and boisterous, disorder and confusion. He loved chaotic frenzy—and often caused it. It was no wonder the cowboy would enjoy a storm like the one that had just moved through, Wyatt thought as he and Travis left the shelter of the tree.
“What now?” Wyatt asked, clearly not enjoying this. Like him, Travis had noticed that T.D. had been hitting the bottle. His face was flushed, his eyes bright. Sober, T.D. was trying. Drunk, he was hell on wheels.
“Now we catch up to the herd and let the fun begin,” T.D. said, grinning. He looked excited, anxious to do whatever he could to cause trouble. Wyatt knew that Jinx would be expecting nothing less. He wondered if T.D. realized that or if he thought he was really going to surprise her when he showed up.
Wyatt hated to think what mayhem T.D. was planning. More than likely the man was playing it by ear, which was even more frightening. He hated to think how drunk T.D. might be by the time they reached Jinx and the herd.
He went to the large pine where he’d tied his horse, swung up into the damp saddle and looked to the towering pine-covered mountain ahead of them. How long before they caught up to the herd? Like T.D., he was anxious. He’d brought his hunting rifle with the scope. Patty’s favor rode with him, like a secret tucked in his jacket pocket. A secret that warmed him all through the storm and chilled him the closer they got to catching up to Jinx.
AFTER THE STORM PASSED, the sun had shone bright. They moved the cattle farther up the trail, making better time than Angus had expected. With the storm over, there was a more relaxed feeling in camp that evening when they finally stopped. They’d reached some more of the old corrals along the trail to summer range.
He’d gone out and killed two blue grouse. Though out of season, he didn’t think anyone was going to turn him in after Max fried up the birds until they were crisp on the outside and juicy in the middle. Max had made gravy out of what was left of the cracklings in the huge cast-iron skillet and served it with a large batch of homemade biscuits. Nothing went to waste.
“We’re sure as the devil eating better than I expected,” Cash said and stuffed half a biscuit into his mouth. “You know what I mean,” he said as he swallowed the mouthful. “After the bear got into our grub.”
Angus saw Jinx and
