Chapter 10
Nash steppedbetween Londyn and the oncoming horse.
Londyn gripped his arm. “It’s okay. She’ll stop for me.” Before he could stop her, she moved around him as the buckskin mare slid to a stop in front of her.
She grabbed the horse’s lead and touched her hand to her velvety-soft nose. “There you are, big girl. It’s okay. We’re going to be okay,” she spoke as tears ran down her face.
The mare was breathing hard, and her coat was lathered in sweat, but her eyes weren’t wild, and her nostrils weren’t flaring like they had when she’d broken free of the trailer. Hopefully, whatever had gotten into her had passed.
A big drop of rain splattered across Nash’s forehead, followed by another and another.
They had to get Butterscotch to shelter. Fast.
Lightning struck a tree nearby with a loud crack and an ear-splitting boom of thunder.
Butterscotch reared.
Because she was holding tightly to the lead, Londyn’s feet left the ground as the horse rose.
Nash grabbed her around the waist and pulled her backward as Butterscotch came down on all four hooves.
Nash released her waist and reached for the lead, his hands closing over Londyn’s. Together, they brought the mare to a standstill.
The ranch owner and his ranch hand drove their ATVs close to where Nash and Londyn stood with the mare. “Let’s get her back to the ranch,” Mitchell said.
“How do you want to do this?” Nash asked. “I can ride her bareback.”
Londyn shook her head. “No. I’ve led her behind an ATV before. She’ll follow as long as we keep moving.”
Nash’s brow dipped low. “You’re not going to hold the lead, are you?”
Londyn nodded her head, brushing the raindrops out over her eyes. “I have to. If we try to tie it to the back of the ATV, she might spook and hurt herself trying to get away from it. The best thing would be to walk her all the way back.”
“It’s too far,” Mitchell said. “This storm isn’t waiting for anyone.”
As if to demonstrate, the big drops increased in quantity until it was hard to see three feet in front of his nose. Nash shook his head. “We can’t walk all the way back.”
Londyn’s lips pressed into a stubborn line. “I’ll walk her all the way if I have to. She’s been through enough.”
“Look,” Mitchell said. “Get her back out to the road. I’ll go ahead and bring your truck and trailer closer. That way, you won’t be walking all night.”
“Ok,” Nash said. “We’ll get there as quickly as possible.”
Mitchell climbed onto his ATV, turned on the headlight and headed across the field. The sheets of rain smudged the light until it finally disappeared into the darkness.
The ranch hand mounted his four-wheeler. “Leave the other ATVs here. We’ll come back for them after the storm. I’ll lead you back to the road.” He took off, riding slowly, a little ahead of them.
“You should ride one of the ATVs,” Londyn said. “I can handle Butterscotch.”
Nash shook his head. “I’m walking with you.”
Londyn didn’t argue, apparently too tired and emotionally wrung out. She fell in step beside him, walking as fast as she could. Rain pelted her face and soaked her all the way through her denim jacket to her skin. She shivered and wiped the water from her eyes, only to have to do it again immediately.
Nash’s heart pinched in his chest. The woman was far too stubborn to ask for help.
Nash shrugged out of his leather jacket and draped it over her shoulders.
“No,” she said. “You need it to stay dry.”
He shook his head. “I’m fine. I was getting hot.”
“You’re lying,” Londyn muttered. “But I appreciate the gesture, and I’m too cold to fight you on this one.”
“Good,” he said and hooked her arm. “Then let’s get going.”
She walked as fast as she could, obviously anxious to get Butterscotch back to the ranch and hopefully into a dry stall for the night. “I’m sorry you’re stuck in this situation. I’m sure you didn’t sign up for a trek in the cold rain with lightning striking all around.”
“I’ve been in worse,” he said.
Several times along the way, the lightning strikes and ensuing thunder made the mare rear.
Each time, Nash helped Londyn calm the animal and keep her moving.
When they reached the creek, the ranch hand blew through quickly, nearly stalling out when he sank up to his hips in water. He barely managed to make it to the other side. When he did, he turned his ATV around and shined the light down at the creek.
“I’ll take Butterscotch across and come back for you,” Nash said.
“I can do it,” Londyn said.
“Please,” he insisted. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
She stood at the top of the creek bank, unused to standing back and letting someone else do what she could have done herself. As the man and horse stepped over the edge, Londyn held her breath.
Nash led the mare down the steep bank, both slipping precariously in the mud.
When they reached the creek bed, the water rose around them. Butterscotch had no problem navigating the rush of water. For Nash, it was a little more of a struggle. The creek had gone from nothing more than a trickle to knee-deep and rushing with the rain runoff.
Nash struggled, had his feet swept out from under him, caught himself on Butterscotch’s halter and made it the rest of the way across.
He handed the lead to the ranch hand and slid down the bank into the creek. After making sure he was steady, he waded slowly through the rushing water and climbed the slippery creek bank to stand beside her.
With rain running down her face, Londyn shook her head.
Nash slung mud off his hands as best he could, then held one out to her.
She took it, mud and all.
As soon as they carefully stepped over the edge, their feet flew out from under them. They slid down the bank and into the stream.
By that time, the flow had become a raging river. Nash and Londyn were swept away.
Londyn fought to keep her head above water, with Nash holding her hand in a vice-like grip.
All she could see in the occasional moment with her head above the surface, was the light shining into the creek further upstream where they were supposed to have crossed.
They’d gone several yards down the river when she was yanked to a halt by that grip on her hand. Waves rushed over her head for so long she thought for sure she would drown. Then, the grip on her hand tightened. She was pulled up and out of the water onto a tree branch growing out of the side of the bank.
Nash pulled her up onto a thicker branch and into his arms.
“Are you all right?” he yelled about the roar of the river, his arm tightening around her.
Londyn coughed the water from her lungs and wrapped her arms around his waist. “I am now.”
He held her close, his arms like vices around her.
Londyn was so cold she couldn’t tell who was shaking more.
A light above their heads bounced toward them. When it finally came abreast of where they clung to the tree, it shined down on them.
When they could finally see the tree branches, Nash loosened his hold on Londyn and helped her climb the limbs ahead of him, following, ready to catch her should she slip and fall back.
Londyn finally made it to level ground, out of the creek and away from the slippery bank.
Before she could ask, the ranch hand said, “Don’t worry. The mare is tied to a tree.” He led them back to Butterscotch.
Exhausted from their impromptu swim and attempted drowning, Londyn trudged along beside her horse, glad for the halter to hold onto when her knees buckled or she tripped over a rock or stubby vegetation.
What felt like hours later, they arrived at the road where the truck and trailer waited.
Mitchell and two more of his ranch hands took charge of Butterscotch. The mare walked right up into the trailer without a problem.
Londyn climbed into the back seat, wet, muddy and so cold her teeth chattered.
Nash slid in beside her, pulled her into his arms and held her all the way to the ranch house. Having almost lost her in the raging creek had shaken him more than he could have imagined.
As they rolled into the barnyard, Nash frowned.
Though the equipment vans were still parked in front of the barn, many of the other vehicles belonging to the cast and crew were gone.
“Where did everybody go?” Londyn asked.
“Your director sent them. Apparently, a lightning strike took out one of their primary generators and some of the camera equipment. A couple of your cast members decided to stay the night rather than risk driving back in the rain. The rest returned to your film location. You can get all the details from those who stayed behind.”
Nash helped Londyn down from the truck and slipped an arm around her as they walked to the rear to open the trailer.
Butterscotch stood in the front compartment, her head drooping. Londyn climbed in and stopped beside the mare’s neck. “Hey, girl,” she said softly. “Rough night?”
The mare tossed her head.
“Yeah. I know.” Londyn stroked the mare’s nose. “We’re going to get you to a dry stall with lovely hay and grain.” She gripped the halter and slowly backed the animal down the ramp.
“I had one of my guys prepare a stall for the mare,” Mitchell said. “Follow me.” He led the way into the barn.
An older man in overalls stood beside an open stall door with an armful of ragged towels.
Once Londyn led Butterscotch into the stall, the man handed her a towel.
Nash took half of the remaining towels.
Together, Nash and Londyn rubbed the horse down while she drank from a water bucket. The stall’s floor had been lined with fresh woodchips. Someone had filled the feed trough with grain and fresh alfalfa hay.
Mitchell leaned against the open stall door. “I called my vet. He’s on his way out. Based on your description of the horse’s behavior, he suspects she got into something that triggered a reaction. He wants to take a blood sample and have it tested.”
“Thank you.” Londyn peered over the top of her horse’s back. “I’ve never seen her so distressed. However, I can”t imagine what she could have gotten into. I had her in a portable corral. I’ve fed her nothing but hay and grain from my ranch.”
Mitchell shrugged. “People can be careless—especially those who aren’t around horses often. I’ve had a guest give one of my horses whiskey, thinking that was funny. That horse was sick for days.”
They’d barely gotten the horse dried off when she shifted impatiently.
Londyn and Nash moved toward the stall door.
Butterscotch bent her front legs and lowered her rear, laying down in the bed of wood chips.
“She didn’t eat any of the feed or hay,” Londyn said.
“She probably just needs time to recover from whatever triggered her.” Nash could see the worry in Londyn’s eyes and wished he could do something to make her feel better. Even more so, he wished he could do something to make the horse feel better.
“I have a couple of guest rooms in the ranch house prepared for you,” Mitchell said. “You’re welcome to stay with us.”
Londyn shook her head. “If it’s all right by you, I’d like to sleep out here with Butterscotch.”
Mitchell shrugged. “It’s your call. I get it. I’d do the same.”
Nash nodded. “We’ll both be out here for the night.”
“I’ll have some sleeping bags brought out. If the clouds clear, it’ll get cold.”
“Thanks,” Nash said.
“Yes,” Londyn said. “We’ll try not to be too much of a bother.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Mitchell said with a grin. “The movie studio is paying us a lot to use my cattle and the ranch for filming the cattle drive. It’ll help pad my bank account for the winter months.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” Londyn said. “Winter months can be hard.”
Mitchell nodded. “You should know. You’re even further north than we are.”
Londyn smiled. “Not by much. That jet stream can be brutal in January and February, dipping down into Wyoming.”
“Where’s my patient?” A man appeared in the doorway of the barn carrying a satchel. He folded an umbrella, set it by the door and shrugged out of a rain jacket. The man wore jeans and a stained and rumpled denim shirt. He had dark circles beneath his eyes and fine lines at the corners.
“Hey, Doc.” Mitchell stepped back, making room for the veterinarian to enter the stall. “Thanks for making the trip out, especially in such bad weather.”
“I was in your neighborhood over at the Taylor’s ranch with a breech calf,” the doctor said. “Otherwise, I would’ve asked you to wait until morning.” He glanced toward Nash and Londyn. “I’m Dr. Matheson.”
Nash held out his hand. “Nash Nelson. And this is Londyn Tyler-Lovejoy, the horse’s owner.”
Londyn shook the vet’s hand. “Please, call me Londyn.” She stepped out of the stall doorway and waved toward the buckskin. “This is Butterscotch.”
Dr. Matheson squatted beside Butterscotch and laid his hand on her neck. “How long has she been down?”
Londyn knelt beside the vet. “She just laid down.” She explained what had happened and how the horse had gone berserk. “I’ve never seen her do that before. She’s the calmest horse I’ve ever worked with. It was as if she’d suddenly lost her mind.”
The veterinarian gave the horse a quick exam, checking her eyes, teeth, gums and heartbeat. Then he plucked a syringe out of his satchel and drew blood. “I’ll send the sample out to be tested. The results won’t be available for a couple of days.”
“I’d like to get her back to my ranch to recuperate,” Londyn said. “It’s about a two-hour drive from here.”
“I’d give her something to counteract an allergic reaction, but she’s calm and breathing normally. She doesn’t seem to be distressed at this time.” He straightened. “If she’s up and acting fairly normal by morning, she should be all right to transport. She might feel better in familiar surroundings.”
Londyn scratched behind Butterscotch’s ear and patted her neck. When she stood, she shook the veterinarian’s hand. “Thank you for coming out.”
“My pleasure.” He lifted his chin toward the ranch owner. “Dan tells me you’re a member of the cast shooting the movie on his place in the park. I look forward to watching it on the big screen.” He shook her hand. “I’ll get back with the results as soon as possible. And I’ll be on call during the filming to look after the health and well-being of the other animals.”
“That’s good to hear,” Londyn said. “Be careful driving home in this storm.”
“Thanks. I will.” Dr. Matheson gave them a nod, gripped the handle of his satchel and left the barn.
The veterinarian pulled on his rain jacket, popped open his umbrella and left. As he exited, one of Mitchell’s men entered the barn, carrying two trash bags. He opened the bags one at a time and pulled out two tightly bound sleeping bags.
“Oh, good,” Mitchell pointed to the bags. “They’re not mattresses with fresh sheets and pillows, but they’ll keep you warm. If you change your minds and want to come to the house, just knock on the front door. Our dogs bark loud enough to wake the dead.”
“I’m sure the bags will be fine,” Londyn said.
“The stall next to this one was thoroughly cleaned, disinfected and has fresh woodchips,” Mitchell offered. “You can be nearby if needed, but not stepped on, should your horse get up in the night.”
“Perfect,” Londyn said.
“I’ll have my cook send out some sandwiches. He baked a huge ham for our guests and ranch hands. There was a lot left.”
Nash’s stomach rumbled loudly in response to the mention of a ham sandwich. He laughed. “That would be great. You sure it’s not too much trouble?”
Londyn elbowed him in the side. “Shh. He’s offering food.” She smiled. “We’d love a sandwich.”
Mitchell chuckled. “Cookie won’t mind. He loves it when we have guests, even if they choose to stay in the barn. I’ll also bring out some dry clothes for you two to change into. You can’t stay in your wet things all night.”
Nash smiled. “There’s no need for anyone else to get out in this storm. We can come to the house to get the food and clothing since we’re already soaked.”
“I insist.” Mitchell nodded toward Londyn. “My sister is about your size. She leaves work clothes here for when she visits from Seattle. I’m sure I can find something for both of you. It might be half an hour or so, depending on what I can find in our closets.”
“We’ll be fine until then,” Londyn said. “Thank you for everything.”
Mitchell stepped back out into the storm.
Londyn shrugged out of Nash’s leather jacket. “I hope the rain doesn’t ruin your coat.” She hung it on a hook outside the stall door. “Thank you for letting me use it.”
“It’s been wet before. It’ll be fine when it dries.” He stepped back into the stall with Butterscotch and scooped a handful of feed out of the trough, knelt and offered it to the horse.
She sniffed and then nuzzled his palm, taking his offering.
“I’m glad she’s eating something,” Londyn said. “She’d probably exhausted from her wild escape.”
“Probably.” Nash rose and grabbed another handful of grain and offered it to the mare. She ate that little bit as well. It reassured Nash for the moment. “I wouldn’t worry too much about her unless she doesn’t get up in the morning.”
“Right.” Londyn chewed on her bottom lip as she stared down at the mare. “I can’t imagine what caused her to freak out.”
“Let’s hope the blood test will give us a clue.”
Londyn nodded, her gaze shifting to Nash. “Thank you for saving me from being swept away in the creek.”
“Just doing my job,” he said. “What kind of protector would I be if I let a little flooded creek carry you away?” His mouth pressed into a thin line. “But seriously, I’m sorry I let you get swept away at all.”
She laid a hand on his shoulder. “If you hadn’t been there, Butterscotch and I might not have made it across that creek.”
He stared at the horse nibbling the grain from his palm. He laid his other hand over hers on his shoulder without saying a word. Despite the electric shock, or maybe because of the sensation, he held onto that hand longer than he should have.
Having almost lost her in the raging floodwaters, he wanted to hold on and keep holding on.
Nash curled his fingers around hers and gently pulled her around to stand in front of him.
“This might sound stupid, or maybe even like a pathetic excuse for a pickup line, but I have to say it.”
Her lips lifted in a smile. “Now you have my full attention. Say what’s on your mind.” She brushed a lock of his hair off his forehead.
He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “We haven’t known each other long, but for some reason, I feel like I’ve known you forever. I’ve lost friends. One minute, they’re there; the next, they’re gone. For a moment back there, I almost lost you.”
“But you didn’t,” she said and brushed her lips across his forehead. “You saved my life.”
He shook his head. “A tree saved our lives. If I hadn’t run into it, we wouldn’t have survived much longer. The tree saved us.”
She grasped his cheeks between her hands. “No,” she said. “You saved our lives. Your quick thinking and strength got us out of that creek.”
He let go of her hand, gripped her hips and pulled her into his lap, burying his face against her neck. “I promise to do better,” he said. “I can’t let you die.”
She slid her hands behind his neck and pulled him close to where their lips almost met. “I’m not going to die.” Her lips brushed his softly. “I’m not going to die.”
“You almost did,” he whispered against her mouth.
“I’m a lot tougher than you think.”
“Don’t you see?” He gripped her head, his fingers sinking into her damp hair. “It isn’t always how strong, fast or tough you are. I want—” He crushed his mouth to hers, drinking her in like a man who’d been in a desert too long.
She opened to him.
His tongue met hers, stroking the length, caressing with a passion borne of desperation.
He’d almost lost her. It could have been Waterson all over again. There one minute. Dead the next, in a ground-rocking explosion.
The barn door creaked open.
Lightning flashed, the lights overhead blinked out and thunder boomed like a grenade detonating, shaking the very ground on which they sat.
Nash froze.
“Holy shit!” A male voice exclaimed. A beam of light splashed through the barn’s interior, a glowing stream crossing in front of the open stall door. “Hello?”
Before he could stop her, Londyn scrambled off Nash’s lap. “Hang on.” She stepped out of the stall. “We’re in here.”
Nash was on his feet and at her side in seconds.
A man wearing a rain slicker carried a flashlight and a backpack. “I’m Cookie,” he said. “I take it you’re our guests with the sick horse?”
“Yes, sir,” Londyn said. “I’m Londyn, and this is Nash.”
“Nice to meet you,” Cookie said. He set the flashlight on the ground and slid the backpack off his shoulders. “I brought you sandwiches, a thermos of hot cocoa and some clothes Mitch dug out of his closets. I’d have brought you coffee, but you might want to sleep at least some of the night.”
Cookie pulled a gallon-sized plastic baggie and a thermos out of the backpack. Then he pulled out a garbage bag. “These are the clothes.”
Nash hurried toward the man and took the bags and thermos from him. “Thank you.”
“Helluva storm out there,” the man said, switching the flashlight to his other hand once it was free. He glanced at the ceiling of the barn. “Hopefully, the lights will come back on in a few minutes. But, just in case they don’t, there’s a spare flashlight in the tack room. I’ll get it for you. Hang on.”
Nash wanted to tell the man they weren’t going anywhere in the pitch black.
Cookie disappeared with the light beam into a room in the front corner of the barn. A moment later, he reappeared, carrying something that appeared to be a lantern. “This is even better than a flashlight. It’s battery-powered, so you don’t have to worry about it catching the hay on fire.” He set it on the ground, shined his flashlight down at the base of the unit, located the switch and turned it on.
Light glowed in a warm circle around them, breaking up the darkness.
“There. Hopefully, the battery will last all night or at least until the electricity comes back on.” Cookie grinned. “Need anything else?”
Nash shook his head, willing the older man to leave so they could pick up where he and Londyn had left off. He could still taste her on his lips and wanted more.
Cookie clapped his hands together. “Then I’m off to bed. Breakfast is at six-thirty. You can come through the kitchen door at the back of the house. Be on time so you actually get some food. The ranch hands don’t leave so much as a scrap.” He nodded. “Good night. I hope your horse is feeling better by morning.”
The older man ducked back out into the storm, closing the door behind him and leaving Nash and Londyn in the warm glow of the lantern.
Nash set the bag of clothes in the stall beside the one with Butterscotch. He laid the plastic baggie full of sandwiches and the thermos on top of the clothes.
When he turned, he found Londyn in the stall doorway behind him, holding the lantern. Once she had his attention, she entered and set the lantern on the floor. When she straightened, the lantern glow reflected in her dark eyes as she closed the distance between them.
For a long moment, she stood before him. “Are you hungry?” she asked in almost a whisper.
Though his stomach had rumbled moments before, he’s lost all appetite for food. “I find I’m not hungry for ham, but I have an insatiable appetite for you.”
Her dark eyes flared, but she didn’t walk into his arms. “Can we agree that you have your work, and I have my ranch? They could, in fact, be mutually exclusive?”
Nash’s brow dipped low. “Agree?”
She nodded. “And can we agree that anything that happens between us tonight doesn’t have to mean anything? We’ll go our separate ways when the filming is complete?”
“Is that what you want?” he asked.
She nodded. “What we’re feeling is a product of trauma. It won’t last. Especially when I’ll go back to my ranch, and you’ll go on to your next assignment. We live vastly different lives. Why complicate them?”
He gathered her into his arms. “Sweetheart, it’s too late.”
Her breathing grew ragged as she stared up at him. “Too late?” she whispered as if she didn’t have enough breath to push words past her vocal cords.
He nodded. “Everything about this...” he cupped her cheek and brushed his thumb across her lips, “... is complicated.”
Her lips puckered, kissing his thumb. “It doesn’t have to...be,” she said.
He stood still, holding onto his control by a thread. “The only way to keep from getting more complicated is to stop now.”
Her eyes widened. “Please,” she said, “don’t,” she sucked in a breath, “stop.”
Londyn leaned up on her toes and pressed her lips to his.
That thread snapped.
Nash pulled her into his arms and deepened the kiss, taking all she wanted to give and more.
They were about to take complicated to a whole new level.