Until Morning Comes (The Mississippi McGills) by Webb Peggy

Author:Webb, Peggy [Webb, Peggy]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: the Donovans of the Delta, humor, the Mississippi McGills, Southern authors, Native American heroes, romance ebooks, comedy series, romance, Peggy Webb backlist, Peggy Webb romance, romantic comedy, classic romance, contemporary romance, contemporary series
Published: 2012-09-09T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

It took them almost an hour to get to the fallen man.

The trail was steep and winding, and Colter couldn't hurry for fear of his horse losing footing. Halfway up the trail they came upon the runners. Colter stopped long enough to tell them that he would go ahead with his medical bag and that they should continue with the litter.

“How will we ever find him?” Jo asked.

“The course is well known to anyone who has ever ridden it. I know approximately where a rider could have gone over.”

She shivered and squeezed her arms tighter around his waist. “I'm glad it wasn't you. I couldn't stand it if anything happened to you.”

“Nothing will ever happen to me, Jo Beth. I'm indestructible.”

“You're not.”

“Doctors have to be.”

He laughed, but there was no mirth in the sound. Colter Gray Wolf was far from being mirthful. Never had his betrayal of his people weighed more heavily on him. A thousand if onlys played through his mind. If only he'd finished his clinic. If only he'd stayed. But regret changed nothing. It was best not to think of anything now except finding the hapless rider.

He concentrated on the trail. “Keep your eyes open, Jo. We're almost there. Look for any sign of horse or rider.”

Colter saw the first sign, a gray filly, missing both blanket and rider.

“Clyde Lightfoot. At least the filly is unhurt. That's a good sign.”

“Do you think he's close?”

“Yes. He's a good trainer. His filly would be trained to stay close.”

Colter drew to a halt and dismounted. Then he helped Jo down. He smiled when he saw her stockinged feet.

“You'e liable to pick up a stone bruise with those bare feet.”

“It's a small price to pay for knowing you're safe.”

They followed the rim of the canyon for a few hundred feet, and then they saw Clyde. He was caught in a small crevice down the side of the canyon wall, and his head was bleeding profusely.

Colter leaned over the wall. “Clyde. Can you hear me?”

“Gray Wolf. Is that you?”

Clyde's voice was weak, but at least he was conscious. Colter was encouraged.

“I'm going to see if I can reach you. Hang on.”

Colter stretched flat on the rocks and leaned far down over the wall. Loose rocks skittered over the rim and bounced down to the bottom of the canyon.

“Be careful, Colter.”

“I can't reach you, Clyde. Hold on a while longer.”

Colter raised himself up and whistled for his horse. Chieftain trotted to his side. Colter stroked his muzzle and talked to him in Athabascan. Then he began to unfasten the halter.

“What are you doing?”

“Using this halter as an extension to lower myself over the wall.” Jo Beth paled. “Fate was smiling on Clyde today. Six years ago we didn't use these leather halters for the races.”

He lashed one end of the leather halter around his right leg and tied the other around the leg of his stallion. “Don't make a move, Jo. Don't make a sound.”

“Will he stand for you?”

“If he remembers his training he will.

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