Chapter Thirteen #2
The course narrowed down to a few yards, bringing the horses closer together, and funnelling them into a path alongside a stream. Once that was cleared, they’d be running next to the river and jumping another tributary stream at the end into the longest straight run of the race.
There was some jostling at this point, and a few spirited but coarse comments from the riders that Blaine prayed Gerry hadn’t heard.
The hedge bordering the stream lay ahead, and he hoped Flora wouldn’t dump her rider into the water today. He had to wonder at that, since she wasn’t a horse to pull any kind of temperamental stunt. But then again, horses were laws unto themselves.
Thunder was content galloping down the wet turf toward the hedge and fence combination with the stream behind it that led to the river.
They cleared it with at least a foot to spare, Blaine yelling with delight as the sensation of flying always thrilled him.
Others followed, but he didn’t look back until he heard a sharp cry. Heart in his mouth, he turned briefly to see the red shirt close on his tail.
Whoever had fallen, it wasn’t Gerry.
Now they were running parallel to the river. Wider and deeper here, fed by several of the smaller streams, huge trees overhung the rushing water, and the banks were clearly close to overflowing.
To his surprise, he saw some of the bare tree branches filled with colour…some of the local children in their winter clothes were perched on the lowest ones, cheering on their favourites as the riders emerged into view.
He grinned at them, but didn’t wave. His focus was on the race.
Hoofbeats boomed behind him, then beside him…and Gerry was there, her face set, matching Thunder stride-for-stride.
He barely had chance to acknowledge her when a massive crack shattered the air and Thunder jolted beneath him.
Gerry pulled up Flora and swerved to her left, heading for the river. “A branch,” she yelled. “The children are in the water.”
Without a second thought, he turned Thunder to follow her, ignoring the rest of the jockeys fast gaining on them.
Looking ahead, he could see what she had seen, and it chilled his soul. A large branch had indeed snapped and dropped into the river. Clinging to it were half a dozen children, most of them screaming as the icy water tore at them, but one or two pointing downriver.
“Two are further down,” she screamed at him. “Blaine. Can you get them?”
He nodded and galloped past the fallen tree, hearing the water splash as she and Flora made their way toward the branch. Luckily, it seemed stuck in place, but if the river rose any further it might well break loose.
He could see two heads close to each other, clinging together, by the looks of it.
“Hey,” he yelled “Over here.”
They struggled, splashing around, trying to find a handhold. The water was deep, and God only knew how cold it was.
He did the only thing he could think of. He tore off his silk shirt, laid his chest low across Thunder’s neck and went into the water.
“Grab my shirt…you can do it…”
Flinging it out, he tried two or three times to get it to one of the children, a boy desperately hanging on to a little girl. “Almost, you almost got it…”
“I can’t hold her. It’s so cold…”
“Come on Thunder…just a little closer…” The horse stumbled, but caught himself, just in time. Once again Blaine threw the shirt, leaning out as far as he could without falling in himself.
And the boy snagged it, despite the brutal force of the waters as they crashed downstream.
Offering up a silent prayer of thanks, Blaine eased Thunder backward toward the bank, towing his precious cargo on a line of flimsy silk, and within moments they were all free of the fast-flowing waters.
“Up with you.” He hoisted them up, one at a time, to sit in front of him. Then he turned back toward Gerry.
“Oh God.” His heart leapt into his throat as they neared the fallen branch. “What the hell…”
There were people running now, along both sides of the river, and he let the children slide down into adult arms. “Get them dry, they’re freezing.”
But his focus was glued to Gerry and Flora.
The two of them were physically holding the massive branch in place.
In the middle of a raging torrent, one slip of a girl and one incredibly strong horse held half an oak tree steady. Flora’s broad chest was against the thickest portion, and Gerry was on her back, directing the children as best she could.
The current was strong, ignoring everything in its way, and risking it with a horse would be madness.
Since he knew he was mad anyway, Blaine went in to help.
“Get them, Blaine,” Gerry waved at the little ones clustered around the one branch sticking upwards. “I don’t know how much longer we can hold this…”
“Stay calm,” he ordered, knowing his own heart was so far up his throat it was about to choke him. Now there were two more horses in the water, on the edge near the bank.
“Let’s make a chain,” he called, grabbing a silent and terrified little boy, and urging Thunder sideways a few feet so that he could pass him to the man on the next horse.
“It’s working,” yelled Gerry. “Hurry, Blaine…hurry…”
The river was still rising, he realised, and from that moment he put himself and Thunder through the harshest of conditions, moving sideways, back and forth, in a punishing and icy current, with rough footing on the riverbed.
His movements focussed on rescuing the children, but his heart was put on Gerry.
When the last child was in his arms, he turned Thunder to the bank and let him force his way to the bank, finally emerging with hooves scrabbling into the muddy footing, and shaking his head in disgust.
Blaine was shivering, soaked to the waist from the splashes and waves, and bruised by the tree branch and some of the other debris that was flowing downstream. But all of that meant nothing.
Gerry was still in the water. He could hear her voice pleading and encouraging, praising Flora for holding her place against the thick, rough wood.
“Let it go, Gerry,” he cried over the sound of the violent flood. “We have them all.”
“I c-c-can’t…”
“Yes, you can, dammit.” He urged Thunder to the edge. “I’ll get you.”
“F-F-Flora…” He heard her talking to her horse as he started into the water once again.
“Come on, come to me, Flora.”
“If she lets g-g-go…”
“I’ve got it.” He stationed Thunder’s broad backside up against the nearest bit of the branch to hold it still enough for her to move out of the centre of the river. “Come now. You must.”
Flora neighed and Thunder answered. Blaine hoped he was telling her to get a move on.
And slowly but surely, Flora began to sidestep toward them, her strong body more than equal to the task of broaching the waters. With Blaine and Thunder keeping the large branch at bay, Gerry could get ever closer to safety.
After what seemed like agonising eons to Blaine, she was close enough for him to grasp her icy hand and pull her on to Thunder.
The cheers were loud, and Flora neighed, eagerly scrambling from the river now that her rider was safe.
And Blaine? He simply put his arms around Gerry and swore an oath he’d never let her go again.