Chapter 12
Twelve
His girl. As he drove back to the farm, he sure as hell hoped that was still accurate. Maybe with an apology, this would be their first fight and not their last.
The sky stretched out in an endless gray sheet.
He didn’t like the look of the clouds boiling above the hills.
That storm would be cresting the mountain soon.
It would hit the valley and the farm not long after that.
He needed to get the horses fed and rounded up, and prepare to sleep light tonight in case Ginger lost her shit.
With that in mind, he pulled up in front of the barn.
Almost as soon as he stopped, people were spilling out of the house. The tension slammed into him, setting him on alert even before Lawrence Maxwell stormed over.
“You! This is all your fault.”
So Laurel had finally told him. Good for her.
Pocketing his keys, Sebastian kept his expression placid. “Excuse me?”
Logan tried to step between them. “Dad, calm down.”
Lawrence ignored him, instead stepping into Sebastian’s space and jabbing him in the shoulder with one finger. “She’s never been reckless a day in her life and two weeks with you and suddenly she’s throwing away everything she’s worked for. And for what?”
It took all Sebastian’s self-restraint not to dislocate that finger and drop the man to his knees, so there wasn’t any left to hold back his temper.
Straightening to his full height, he loomed over the older man.
“For a chance to fucking breathe,” he growled.
“Do you have any idea what she’s been going through these past few years?
She’s bent over backward, pushed herself until she’s had panic attacks, all in the name of trying to earn your approval—which you ought to be giving her either way because she’s goddamned amazing, no matter what she chooses to do. ”
“She’s throwing her life away, and I won’t have it.”
“It’s not your decision to make. She’s a grown woman, who’s more than capable of making her own decisions—or would be if you’d stop manipulating your kids by only giving them attention when they’re doing what you want.
A parent is supposed to fucking be there, be supportive, and actually listen and give a shit what their kid wants, not try to turn them into a carbon copy or shove their own agenda down their kid’s throat. ”
An angry flush crept up the other man’s face. “How dare you presume—”
“For God’s sake, Dad!” Logan snapped. “Even now, you’re more interested in winning this argument and making your point than in what’s important. Sebastian, Laurel is missing.”
“What?”
“She hasn’t come back.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Laurel. She was upset, and she went out for a ride more than an hour ago. She hasn’t come back.”
Thunder rolled across the valley.
Oh no. Oh fuck. He knew. Even before he heard the sound of pounding hooves, he knew.
Ginger came flying through the north pasture, stirrups bouncing, saddle empty.
As the bottom fell out of his world, Sebastian moved to intercept her, waving his arms. She nearly mowed him down, but reared at the last moment. Darting in, he snagged the trailing reins, moving with her when she shied.
“Whoa. Whoa. Easy. Settle.”
He slowly reeled her in until he could get his hands on her quivering neck.
Her eyes wheeled in terror and her breath sawed in and out like a bellows.
Despite the panic blooming in his own chest, he kept his tone soft and even, soothing her until she stood still long enough for him to check her legs and feet.
There were several nicks along her fetlocks and stones in her hooves.
If she didn’t come up lame tomorrow, it would be a miracle.
“Logan, saddle Brego.”
He was already moving toward the barn. “Who else?”
“No one else.”
“What? But we have to find her. She could be hurt or…”
“Don’t finish that sentence.” Slowly, Sebastian led Ginger toward the barn. “I’m going after her. But there’s a storm coming, and it’ll be dark in half an hour. I’m not having any more of the horses or inexperienced riders injured by going out in it.”
“You’re not having it? What gives you the right to make that call? That’s my daughter out there!” Lawrence demanded. But there was fear underneath the anger now.
Sebastian resisted the urge to point out that if he’d been less of a dick, Laurel wouldn’t be out there at all. The same could easily be said of him, too. “Because I’m an Army Ranger. I’m trained for search and rescue. None of the rest of you are.”
Turning his back on Laurel’s father, he narrowed his focus on the task in front of him, clearing the stones and stripping off the saddle and bridle from the terrified mare. “Okay, girl. We’re done. You’re safe.” He turned her loose, watching her run straight to the three-walled shelter.
“Athena, call Xander. Have him put search and rescue on stand-by.” Not waiting to see if she moved, he bolted for his cabin.
His mind spun with scenarios for how Ginger ended up back here without her rider and almost none of them were good.
He prayed Laurel had just dismounted to check the mare’s feet and lost hold of the reins when she spooked.
It was the only variation he could envision that didn’t involve her getting thrown and sustaining a multitude of injuries.
Shrugging into rain gear, he grabbed the pack he kept stocked and ready for search and rescue missions.
He’d only been called out a handful of times since he’d joined the local SAR team, and that had been for simple, successful searches.
This was a whole other level of fear because this was personal.
Be okay, damn it. Wherever you are, just hang on. I’m coming.
In less than five minutes, he was back, shifting supplies and bedroll from the pack into his saddle bags.
“Are you packing to camp?” Lawrence asked incredulously.
“If I have to. I don’t know what I’m going to find, and if I’m on the mountain after dark, it won’t be safe to bring my horse back down.”
Athena hurried up from the house. “Xander is mobilizing the team.”
“Let’s pray we don’t need them.” But the temperature was dropping and the rain would be here any minute.
Sebastian swung into the saddle. “Take the 4x4 and the truck and check everything you can drive to. I’ll be checking the places you can’t drive.
My radio is on, though there may be interference from the storm.
Let’s keep each other posted, as best as we can.
If I find her after dark and can’t get through, I’ve got a flare gun. ”
“What else can we do?” White-faced, Laurel’s mother wrapped both arms around her middle.
Sebastian didn’t have any softness or false hope. “Pray.”
Digging his heels into Brego’s flanks, he galloped off to find the woman he loved.
Everything hurt.
Why the hell did she feel like she’d gone three rounds with Mike Tyson? And why was it so damned cold?
Opening her eyes, Laurel frowned, her brain not immediately processing the field of gray clouding her vision. Blinking slowly, she tried to move. Pain lanced through her shoulder, and her skull pounded like a timpani drum.
What the hell?
Thunder boomed all too close, jolting her fully back to consciousness. Ginger. The storm. She’d been thrown.
Oh my God.
Urgency beat in her blood as she scrambled to her knees.
One hand slipped. On instinct, she threw herself in the opposite direction to keep from face planting, and saw the drop.
Terror stole her ability to scream, but she scrambled back, pressing as tightly to the rock face as possible.
By some miracle, she’d landed on a narrow ledge of rock instead of plummeting all the way to the bottom.
Her perch wasn’t more than about three feet deep.
If she’d rolled the other way or slipped just a few feet further to the left or right, she’d have missed it entirely.
Lungs seizing, she fought back the panic. Panic wouldn’t get her out of this situation.
In through the nose, out through the mouth.
Thunder rolled again. She couldn’t stay here. The storm would hit any minute now.
Still moderating her breathing, Laurel assessed her injuries.
Her shoulder seemed to be the worst of it.
Careful rolling of the joint proved it was wrenched, not dislocated.
She definitely had a multitude of bruises and abrasions, and obviously she’d struck her head, but nothing seemed to be broken. She could climb.
A single look back up the way she’d come disabused her of that notion.
The trail was at least fifteen or twenty feet up.
The rock face itself was almost vertical, with no easy handholds.
Maybe, if she had some kind of a rope, but she had nothing.
There was no sign of Ginger, and Laurel could only hope the mare had made it safely off the mountain and that she’d run home to alert someone.
“Help!” She shouted it, and her voice echoed off the walls of the stone. “Help me!”
The sky answered with a bullwhip crack of thunder and split open, pelting her with freezing rain. She was soaked in less than a minute, chattering in under two. How long did it take to die of exposure? Did anyone even realize she was gone?
Maybe she could climb or slide down to safer ground below.
She scooted forward just far enough to see over the lip.
The only way down was a long drop. Because she had to do something, she kept shouting between rumbles of thunder.
But no one came. Who could hear her way up here?
As darkness fell, the futility of her situation had tears coursing down her cheeks, mixing with the freezing rain.