Texas Woman

Cruz cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “Cebellina! Get away from the tree!” But the wind captured his warning and carried it away.

She did not move.

And so he had no choice except to join her in her death-defying venture.

When he reached her, he yanked the buckskin to a sitting stop and shouted over the wind, “You are gambling with your life. Come away from here, and we will talk.”

“Don’t like the odds, Hawk? Maybe you had better leave, then. You see, my luck hasn’t been too good lately and-”

He grabbed the bayo’s reins to lead him away from the danger, but Sloan saw what Cruz was attempting to do and simply slid out of the saddle. Cruz had only gone a few steps before he realized what she had done.

Once the stallion no longer had a rider to control him, he attacked the half-wild buckskin Cruz was riding. Cruz’s mount half-reared and kicked at the bayo with its hind legs. The bayo danced skittishly away, pulling at the reins and forcing Cruz around so the two stallions faced one another.

In an instant the air was charged with expectancy, the storm forgotten as the two great beasts arched their necks, nostrils flaring, ears flattened against their heads as they tested one another in an instinctive effort to establish supremacy.

The bayo reared, stripping the reins from Cruz’s hand, and pawed the air, trumpeting a challenge that was quickly answered by the half-wild buckskin.

Sloan saw the danger to Cruz and, acting without thought to her own safety, rushed forward to try and catch her horse’s reins and bring him back under control. As she reached out a hand for the trailing leather, the bayo reared again and its hooves struck her on the hip, sending her tumbling to the ground.

The pain was excruciating. Sloan barely had time to acknowledge it, however, before she was blinded by a piercing white light. She felt her eyebrows being singed as she threw up her hand to cover her face. For an instant the hairs stood up all over her body. A deafening crack of thunder followed.

When the sound had at last shuddered to a stop after a series of rumbling echoes, Sloan’s face wrenched in an agonized expression of remorse and relief. By some miracle she had survived the bolt of lightning that had struck the magnificent oak.

Then she heard the sharp crack of splitting wood.

The live oak had been cleaved by the lightning, but the ancient tree had only been strong enough to withstand for a short time the pull of gravity that began to take its toll.

Sloan watched in horror as a fissure opened down the length of the tree and fully a quarter of the giant oak started its plunge downward to crush her. She tried to escape, but found it hard to move quickly with her injured hip.

She saw Cruz shaking his head to clear it. He was on the outer edge of the area where the branches would fall.

“Cruz! Look out!”

Cruz had been thrown from his horse by the repercussion from the lightning bolt. At the same moment he heard Sloan’s warning, he identified the awful sound of wood splintering and sensed, rather than saw, the heavy branches of the shattered oak on their downward arc.

It only took one frightening look to see Sloan wasn’t going to make it out on her own. It never occurred to him to save himself. He headed for his wife on the run.

He had mere seconds to reach Sloan, mere seconds to get them both to safety. He didn’t have time for grace. He simply snatched Sloan up in his arms like a rag doll, and ran.

He had nearly reached the limits of the tree’s vast umbrella when the outer limbs caught his shoulders and shoved him downward. He barely had time to drop Sloan into a narrow ravine and cover her body protectively with his own before the weight of the gnarled limbs crashed down on him.

Sloan woke to bright daylight but couldn’t figure out where she was. Her hip ached abominably, and something heavy was weighing her down, making it hard to breathe.

Then it all came back to her. The weight, of course, must be Cruz’s body.

“Cruz?” she whispered tentatively. “Are you awake? Are you all right?”

When she received no reply, she closed her eyes and prayed, reaching out searchingly with the hand she could move easily. Cruz’s hand lay beside her on the ground, but it was cold and limp. She felt for a pulse at his wrist but couldn’t find one.

She shuddered at the thought that he might be dead, and fought against panic. A small tremor sped through his body and she realized he must be alive.

“Cruz,” she murmured from a throat swollen closed by guilt. “Please don’t die. Please, for me, try to stay alive.”

Surely someone would have noticed this morning that they were gone from the hacienda. Cruz’s vaqueros would already be searching for them. But how would they know where to look? The storm would have washed out all signs of their journey. It could be hours before they were found-if they were found at all.

Sloan uttered several colorful curses before she managed to control her tongue. She had gotten herself and Cruz into this mess. It appeared she was also going to have to get them both out.

Sloan first tried to slide sideways out from under Cruz, but soon realized that was impossible because a limb had pinned them in place. However, the ravine into which they had fallen continued along for several feet beyond where they were lying. She began to work her body forward and out from under Cruz. It was slow going because a sharp pain ran down her leg each time she moved her hip.

It took much longer than she had thought it would to finally free herself, and when she did, it was frightening to realize that Cruz still hadn’t regained consciousness. She forced her way upward through the layers of branches until she was standing upright.

The surrounding tree limbs only reached as high as her hips. Cruz had nearly managed to carry her to safety. Ten feet beyond where they were lying, the tree’s branches ended, and several yards beyond that, the bayo stood munching grass. She wondered why he hadn’t bolted for home until she realized that the dragging reins had gotten caught in a scrubby mesquite tree and tethered the horse as neatly as if she had done it herself.

She worked her way to clear ground and limped painfully to the bayo, praying that the saddlebags contained the necessities to help them survive. She could have cried for joy when she found a small ax for chopping firewood, matches, a blanket, some beef jerky, a bandanna, a small knife, and a canteen of water. She hugged the ax to her bosom while she drank some of the water.

“Cebellina! Where are you?”

“Cruz! I’m here! Wait, I’m coming.” Sloan experienced a searing joy at the sound of Cruz’s voice, which dimmed as she realized all that stood between them now. She hissed in pain as she jarred her hip. Soon she was straddling a tree limb beside him.

“I have tried to roll over, but my legs are caught,” he told her.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“I have a devil of a headache,” he said through clenched teeth. “What about you?”

“I’m fine.” There would be time enough later to mention her hip. “Lie still. I found an ax in your saddlebags and-”

“The horses did not head for home?”

“The bayo’s reins got caught on a mesquite. We can ride home as soon as I get you free.”

Cruz wondered if Sloan realized what she had said. We can ride home. Did she consider Dolorosa home? Did this mean she was coming back to stay with him despite what she now believed about him? He could not bring himself to ask, so instead he said, “What can I do to help?”

“Just lie still. I can handle this.”

It turned out that Sloan had been slightly optimistic when she had spoken. The ax was small and the limbs were thick. Also, her hip bothered her, and she had to rest frequently to take her weight off it. That soon became apparent to Cruz, who exclaimed, “You are hurt!”

“My hip got bruised when the bayo struck me with his hooves,” she said, dismissing his concern. “It’s nothing to worry about.”

Neither of them spoke as Sloan continued hacking away at the branches of the live oak, but a conversation was taking place, nevertheless, in both their minds.

Why did he agree to work with the Englishman?

I should never have agreed to do it. I knew the chance I was taking that she would find out.

I don’t understand how this could have happened to me twice in one lifetime.

Do I dare tell her the rest of it?

Oh God! I can’t turn him in to the Rangers. But how can I stay silent about what I know?

I will tell Sir Giles I am out of it. I will quit.

And I can never trust him again.

I love her, but I cannot explain all of this to her yet. She will simply have to trust me.

“I’ve about hacked through this branch,” Sloan said at last. “I should have you free in a minute.”

She had been lifting away branches as she chopped them off and had cleared an area around Cruz’s head and shoulders. As soon as there was space, he had tried to sit up, but had felt a searing pain in his head when he tried to lift it.

Sloan had finally threatened she would make it hurt a lot worse if he didn’t lie still until she was finished. She had seen the dried blood on his temple, and that, coupled with his pain, made her worry that he was more seriously injured than he was letting on.

The sheer size and weight of the limb pinning Cruz’s legs made it difficult for Sloan to move it, even though she had freed it from the rest of the tree. At last she managed to drag the branch out of the way. She stooped down and laid her hand on Cruz’s shoulder. “Can you turn over by yourself?”

He moaned. “I thought you said you never wanted to see my ugly face again.”

Sloan drew in a sharp breath. “This is no time for jokes.”