Chapter 22 #2
Pain flashes across Cole’s face. He coughs once, clearing his throat, but then he coughs again. Harder this time. My arms wrap around him, holding him before he falls over. His hand flies up to his mouth, trying to stop, but he starts coughing so hard his face is turning blue.
“Cole, what’s wrong?” Sadie asks, brows furrowing with worry.
Cole stops for a moment, pulling his hand back from his mouth, revealing a pool of blood in his palm. Dripping into the snow. His worried eyes meet mine, and all I can see is his fear.
“Get him home,” my voice shakes.
He never should’ve come with us. He should be home resting. He shouldn’t be out in the fields because of my failure to keep the herd safe.
Blake takes him from my arms, helping him to his horse. Quickly, I tie off the rest of the wires, glancing back to see Cole on his horse and Blake mounted up, ready to go.
Sadie stands hesitantly by my side. Thick snowflakes brush against her nose and coat.
“Go with them, Sadie.”
Worry fills her brown eyes. “What about you?”
“There’s a cabin not too far from here. I’ll borrow a truck and head into town. See what I can find out.” It’s the best plan I could come up with. Despite my fears about Cole’s condition, I still need to find the missing herd.
Cole continues coughing, hand covering his mouth as he struggles to hold his horse’s reins.
On second thought… “Blake, get him to the hospital,” I say to him. “Have Wes call as many people as he knows in Aspen Hollow. Have him ask if they’ve seen anything.”
“You got it,” Blake nods, grabbing Cole’s horse’s reins before taking off in a trot.
Sadie steps closer. “Can’t I go with you?”
I hold her face in my hands, shaking my head.
Condensation from my breath lingers in the air around us.
“This weather is unsafe, and I need you to look after Cole.” Her safety is too important.
Who knows how long it will take to locate the herd?
It could take the rest of the day, maybe even all night, and the weather conditions are too dangerous.
I need her to be somewhere safe and warm.
She bites her lip, glancing at Cole. “What’s wrong with him?”
A part of me wants to deflect, to save her from worrying, but she was going to find out eventually, and I want to be honest with her. No more hiding the truth. “He has lung cancer.”
“What?” she gasps.
With the storm, Blake and Cole are getting too far away, disappearing in the snow-covered wilds. If she doesn’t start riding now, she’ll lose their trail. “Look, I need you to go. We’ll talk later.”
“Kit—”
My lips press against hers, lingering. “I’ll find you.”
Her arms wrap around me, grabbing the collar of my coat to pull me closer. “You better,” she says against my lips before stepping back to mount on Sugar. Taking off quickly after Cole and Blake.
I hop on Smoke, watching her ride so beautifully in the powder. Another picture I’d love to frame. When she catches up with them, disappearing over the ridge, I take off.
It takes me about twenty minutes to reach the cabin, a security outpost barely visible through the snowy haze. The motion lights go off as I approach.
A man exits the cabin with a rifle in his hand, shining a flashlight on me. “Oh, Kit. It’s just you.”
“Hey, Logan,” I greet after dismounting Smoke. Logan is roughly the same age as me, with brown hair that nearly reaches his shoulders. “I need to borrow a truck to take to town.”
He glances at the old Chevy sitting next to the outpost. “I don’t think it’ll make it that far in this.”
The tires look well-worn, and there’s a big crack in the windshield, but I don’t have a choice. “I have to try.”
Logan nods. “I’ll get the keys.”
Moments later, he returns, placing the keys in my hands. “Would you look after Smoke? Take him back to the ranch when the weather clears?”
He tips his cowboy hat. “Sure thing. I’ll put him in the barn with mine. Good luck out there,” with that, Logan takes Smoke’s reins and heads off towards the small barn.
The old Chevy takes a moment to fire up, but once it does, the engine roars to life. Should be decent enough to make it into town.
Or so I thought. About halfway, the truck slows to a crawl, deciding to die on the side of the road.
Nothing surrounds me but tall pine trees, wrapping me in darkness.
The branches are heavy with snow and ice, wilted from the storm.
Cell reception is shoddy at best, even with the old trick of pointing my phone towards the sky.
I pace around the road, barely able to see three feet in front of me, trying to find the service zone.
But after ten minutes of trying, my fingers are numb, and I still can’t get a single goddamn bar. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I mutter, kicking the truck tires. Of course, the truck had to break down in the middle of the dead zone.
I hop back into the truck, rubbing my frozen hands together. Clouds of condensation wrap around me, but at least it’s slightly warmer inside the truck.
My head rests against the back of the seat, running through a list of options.
There’s nowhere close enough that I could walk to, and not a single car passes me by.
No one is out risking the snowstorm, because no one in Montana is as big of an idiot as me.
I thought I could make it into town, and I’d misjudged that poorly.
Why do I always think I can do everything alone?
It’s a trait about myself that I least admire.