Never Love a Cowboy by Lorraine Heath

Author:Lorraine Heath [Heath, Lorraine]
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2011-11-26T17:47:19+00:00

Jessye’s scream shattered the air, quickly followed by rapid gunfire as Kit leveled his rifle and downed cattle, one after another. She felt powerless as she heard the pounding hooves.

“You’re starting a stampede!” Dan Lincoln cried as he jerked his horse to a halt.

“Do you think I give a bloody damn?” Kit yelled as he reloaded and fired again. “Harry went under near those dead cattle. Gather the men and get him out.”

“If he went under, he’s dead.”

Anger blazed in Kit’s eyes as he grabbed Dan by the shirtfront and nearly hauled him out of the saddle. “Get the men down to the river while I clear a path.” He released his hold and once again began to shoot cattle. Dan gave her a look that clearly implied Kit’s attempt was futile. But he turned his horse and yelled for the men to get back to the river.

Her hands shaking badly, she reached for her own rifle.

“Jessye, get blankets from the supply wagon. Harry’s going to need them,” Kit ordered.

“I should stay—”

“You should go.” He cast a somber gaze her way, and she knew his mind had accepted Dan’s dire prediction. Only his heart refused to surrender hope. “You don’t want to be here.”

Tears burning her eyes, she nodded. He was right. She didn’t want to see Harry’s limp body brought up from the river. “He’ll need blankets.”

She urged her horse into a hard gallop, the echo of gunfire behind her, the devastating thought screaming through her mind that Harry would need blankets, lots of them, whether he was alive—or dead.

It seemed like an eternity passed before she caught up to the supply wagon. “Cookie, I need blankets!” she yelled as she pulled up beside it.

“Damn it to hell. We have a drowning?” he asked.

“No, no, Harry…he just…” Her voice caught, her heart ached. “He—”

“Never mind, girl,” he said as he reached through the opening in the canvas. “Just get the blankets to him and I’ll head back that way myself.”

Taking the bundle he offered, she wished she could stop trembling. She set her heels to her horse’s flanks, hope warring with certainty. Kit had fired one shot when Magpie had gone in the water. His action had opened a hole large enough for Harry to slip through so he could rescue Magpie, but it had been impossible for Magpie to turn the horse when Harry lost his hold on the saddle. The obstinate cattle directed the path.

She neared the river. The cattle they’d kept on a tight, narrow trail were scattered to the winds. A lump rose in her throat at the sight of the men standing, a few kneeling near the river’s bank. She drew her horse to a halt. The somberness was thicker than stew.

“He told me he could swim,” Magpie cried. “He told me he could swim. I never would have gotten on his horse—”

“No one is blaming you, lad,” Kit said. “He can swim.”

She dismounted, her weak legs quivering so badly that she was surprised she could walk.

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