Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
LOUISA
M ara—or Horse, as she’s formerly known as—is tense. She shifts on her feet as we wait, rifles strapped to our backs, hats pulled down low, and a pack horse between the two of us. Ned is late. And his buddy Mick, who apparently recently got out of service with the Navy and needed work.
“Here they come,” Harry says, spitting the grass stalk from his mouth to the ground. The gelding, who I have dubbed Darby, shies as an old, busted pickup rolls into the driveway. Harry has their mounts saddled and a pack horse bundled up for them.
Ned parks and kills the engine. His megawatt smile finds me first before he waves to Harry. “Mornin’.”
“You’re late. Sun’s rising higher by the minute, buddy.”
He waves Harry off as Mick rounds the front of the truck. His short buzzed hair and muscly body look out of place on the ranch. To their credit, they have dressed appropriately and packed light.
“Mick, this is Harry Rawlins, and his missus, Louisa.”
I stifle the laugh at him calling me the missus.
“You realize there’s bad weather comin’, right?” Mick’s stare drills into Harry’s.
“All the more reason to get these cattle off that mountain.” Harry wastes no time, walking the gelding toward the far end of the barn. I cluck my tongue and push Mara after him. Ned swings into the saddle, tying his pack behind it. Mick does the same.
“Right. We take the northern end. You two the southern. Herd them down, camp out in the hollows to keep the herd together. Every beast counts. We meet on the flat in five days’ time. Everyone on the same page?”
Ned nods. “Got it, boss.”
Mick grunts, looking at the mountain like she’s gonna eat him. He’s probably not too far off with that assessment. There is no doubt it’s going to be hard going. He flicks his gaze back to me and says, “You think you’ll need that?”
He nods to the rifle at my back.
“Maybe. I ain’t takin’ any chances. Every beast counts,” Harry answers before I can.
“Yeah, you said that already,” the ex-sailor drawls, looking about as interested in being here as a nun at a brothel’s grand opening.
I slide the rifle from my back and hand it to Ned. “You two should have one.”
I look to Harry, but he dips his hat and trots down the laneway heading for the fields flanking the mountains’ base.
Here goes nothin’.
I take off after him on Mara.
When I glance back, Ned and Mick are riding for the southern fields. With Harry giving them the rundown a few days ago, going over the property lines on the map, they have a solid idea of where to ride and what to look for. The head count, after the wolves, is lighter than we hoped. If we can get them all down and sell off the calves, weaners, and any older cows who are calved out, we might make our first payment.
Might.
Harry’s kept the finances close to his chest since our visit to the bank. It’s eating at him. I have a feeling the next five days are going to be the hardest of my life. I glance back at the willows surrounding the house. The wind plays with their long green tendrils.
“A little help here, Ma,” I whisper to the trees and push Mara faster to catch up to Harry.
I know she can hear me.
* * *
The bad weather rolls in on our second night. Harry and I have set up camp with a small herd in a narrow pocket nestled on the side of the mountain. As if the thunder rumbling in the distance isn’t concern enough, the howls of a pack of wolves nearby have both the cattle and me spooked.
Harry sits on a fallen log, chewing on the stalk of grass he plucked from the ground earlier. He hasn’t said a word since we stopped to set up camp. But the storm has found its way into his eyes.
Digging through our provisions for the trip, my fingers brush cold metal. Flat.
Round and modular.
I pull it from the satchel.
A flask, a larger one.
I didn’t put that in there...
I unscrew the lid.
Whiskey fumes hit my senses, and I stifle a cough. I clear my throat and take a sip. It burns, almost producing another round of coughing.
It’s a stark contrast to the snow-covered ground and crisp air that’s smothered everything. Lightning flashes overhead. I move back to Harry’s side and hand him the flask.
“That’s for our last night on the mountain, darlin’.”
“It is? You makin’ plans for me?”
I narrow my eyes at him playfully.
A smile tugs at one corner of his mouth.
“Louisa May, I’ve always had plans for you.”
“Is that so? What about when we first met?”
“Back in senior year?”
“ Your senior year...”
“Yes, and yes.”
“Really?” I can’t help the smile stretching my face. It warms my heart to hear.
“Really, but right now, we should get some sleep. Tomorrow is going to be tough, little lady.”
I stand and take another sip of the whiskey.
“What if I’m not tired?”
He chuckles. “You should be.”
“Are you turning me down, Harry Rawlins?”
He looks up, pushing the brim of his hat up with one finger. “Woman, the day I say no to you is the day I stop breathin’.”
I screw the flask cap back on tight and drop it to the log. Without taking my gaze from his, I straddle his lap. “Well then, in that case. I ain’t askin’.”
I knock his hat from his head as I push my fingers into his hair. Rough hands cup my face, dragging it down to his.
The fire crackles at my back. I roll my hips and find him hard.
I break from the kiss and tilt my face to the sky. Lightning tracks across it, quicker than my thundering heartbeat.
I don’t think for as long as I live, I will ever forget this night.
* * *
Mara stumbles, her flank damp with sweat, her mouth and neck frothy with exertion. My back aches. My butt has been numb for hours now, and still, we trek across the unforgiving mountain in search of the rest of our half of the herd. Harry rides point, as usual, sometimes slowing the cattle, sometimes picking our path through the timber forest.
Snow covers everything now, and as pretty as it is, it is chafing my skin like there’s no tomorrow. Last night on the mountain, I keep reminding myself every ten minutes. It’s the only thing that keeps me moving forward.
“Hup, huh,” I call with a dry, sore throat, flapping an arm up and down as I go, one hand still tight on the reins. The older cattle tire easily, and the little ones hang back. It’s a constant job to push them up, trying to keep the herd together. Two more days of this.
Two more.
It’s long, hard, boring, and tedious all rolled into one.
Nothing like the fast paced, high-octane thrill of a busy restaurant kitchen. Yet somehow, being here, in this magnificent place surrounded by Mother Nature, I long for nothing. There is nowhere else I’d rather be.
That makes me smile.
Getting a glimpse of the worn cream hat constantly bobbing and moving side to side with the gait of the gelding, my smile stretches further. And it hits me how far we have come.
With nothing else to occupy my mind, memories spring forward, mesmerizing me with their reminiscence. We were so young and free. Harry, always so gruff, stoic, and sweet when it was just the two of us. The only things we worried about were friends, grades, and each other.
God, we were on fire. It took him six months to ask me out, and another few weeks for me to say yes. It was hard to make plans when you could be up and movin’ any time. With Dad’s work, we seemed to be always moving around.
Mara’s hoof hits a log and her head dips with a jerk. I lean back and brace for the rough ground I’m sending her over. It’s only when I hear a bellow from behind that I realize I left somebody behind.
“Dammit.”
I turn Mara back and pick our way through the trees toward the sound.
The wobbly little bellows rack up the closer I get.
Then they stop.
That’s not good.
Clucking my tongue, I send Mara faster. A low branch rushes me, and I duck. Straightening, the air in my lungs freezes as it stalls out as I take in what stands in the small clearing.
Wolves.
Four of them.
The calf stands, rump against a tree, cornered.
I grab for the Winchester at my back and come up empty.
Fuck.
I gave it to Ned.
The calf pees, the rancid yellow coloring the snow, the acid tang scenting the air.
The wolves close in on the calf.
“Hey!” I wave at them ferociously, as if that will scare them off.
You idiot, Louisa.
Shaking, I wrap the reins around the pommel.
I shouldn’t leave Mara’s back, but they’re not afraid of the horse, and we can’t lose that little calf.
I clap my hands, and the sound cracks through the air.
Two of the wolves flinch, but none of them retreat.
I need that calf.
I need...
The calf bolts toward Mara.
A wolf lunges for it. I spur Mara forward, putting us between prey and predator.
They’re so fuckin’ game.
Starvation, no doubt, drives them to act this recklessly.
I twist in the saddle to see the calf scamper over the debris-littered ground. Two wolves take off after it.
“No! Fuck!”
I spin Mara around and break her into a rushed gait, desperate to get to the calf. To intercept before they take it down. Thunder growls overhead.
Snapping and hoofbeats close in on us. I’m screaming at the calf, the wolves.
Nothing helps.
I’m almost to the three animals when I catch a glimpse of a white hat and Darby’s brown coat.
Crack!
The air ricochets with a shot fired.
The echo rings, over and over.
The wolves tear away from the calf, disappearing into the timber. Darby bursts through the trees, faster than I thought it was possible to go through this dense mountainside. Harry’s off the gelding and manhandling the terrified calf a moment later.
He ropes his legs together and lifts him onto Darby in front of the pommel.
My heart flings against my rib cage.
“You good, Lou?” His glance is brief before he dashes back the way he came.
All I can do is nod to his retreating form. The herd is most likely scattering with the shot. I shake my head, resetting my composure.
Right.
Good.
I push Mara back the way we came and follow Harry’s too-quick pace.
That was too close for this girl’s comfort.
The grumble of the storm overhead reminds me we are far from out of the woods. We still have to get down this mountain tomorrow. When Harry and I have the herd back under control and tracking along, the growly storm has turned to misty drizzle.
It’s freezing.
We should have done this weeks ago.
In hindsight, it would have eased the burden, but we can’t predict the weather any more than we can the mortgage rates.
This has to come out the way we planned. There isn’t a plan B this time ’round. On the northernmost side of the mountain, we find a sheltered hollow and drive the cattle into it. With legs aching from riding all day and exhaustion that’s started playing with my vision, I slide from Mara.
The cattle mill about, settling down for the night as I lean against Mara’s side while Harry sets up camp. When I can feel my butt again, I pad to where he is rolling out our bedrolls under an overhanging ledge.
I pluck up any dry wood I find around the campsite and start a pile for a fire. I turn back to find Harry watching me, something that takes all the exhaustion, every last aching muscle and weary bone, and sets it right.
“Come here, Louisa May.” The low rumble of his voice moves me without thought.
The last of the daylight disappearing behind the mountain, I fold into the man I love.
“Whiskey time, darlin’.”