“Let’s step it up,” he called to the riders. “We’ll move these cattle and call it a day.”
“Hey-up. Hey-up.” With the promise of a free afternoon in the offing, the men urged their horses to pick up the pace. The cow dogs followed suit. Dodging horns, their barks wilder and more frequent, the well-trained curs darted between hooves, nipped at heels and generally made such a nuisance of themselves that the cattle broke into a trot just to get away from them.
Twenty sweat-soaked minutes later, Garrett mopped his brow with his bandana while the rest of the hands herded the cows through the open gate and onto fresh grass. He swigged water from his canteen as a jangle of tack and the creak of leather announced another rider’s approach. Recapping the bottle, Garrett cut a glance at a young cowhand.
“What’cha need?” he asked the boy who, according to all reports, had shown more interest in birds than cattle.
“Thought I might head over and batten down the solar array on the west pasture.” Josh tugged on the brim of a sweat-stained Stetson. “In case we get some wind tonight.”
Garrett narrowed his eyes. “Why? You think it’s gonna be a problem?” The solar arrays were sturdy things, built to withstand the weather.
The boy lifted a shoulder. “I was working on it yesterday. I might’ve forgot to put the tie-downs back on.”
Garrett lifted his hat and ran a hand through his hair. “You might have forgot? Or you did?” He had to be sure before he authorized the ride across six hundred acres of prime grazing land.
Josh averted his eyes. “A pair of wood storks wandered past just as I was finishing up. I might’ve been a bit distracted. But I’d hate for the array to get damaged on my account. Those things are darn expensive, aren’t they?”
“You got that right.” Cement ponds with solar-powered pumps to keep the water flowing meant less pollution than old-fashioned watering holes. So, even though every rancher in south Florida complained about the cost, they’d all installed one or two.
A light tug on Gold’s reins brought the buckskin quarter horse to a prancing stop. Garrett sifted the stallion’s mane while he took another look at the distant clouds. If he let the horse run, they’d make it across the section and back before dinner, but he’d probably have to skip the practice jam at Pickin’ Strings tonight. He shrugged. He was okay with that. The tall, willowy new owner might have a voice like an angel’s and curves in all the right places, but it still rankled that Ty and his mom had made him promise to work with her.
His decision made, Garrett reined his horse to the left. “You go on with the others,” he told Josh. “I’ll take care of the array and see you later, at the house.”
“Are you sure, 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.