Читать книгу Cowboy Christmas Rescue - Beth Cornelison - Страница 11

Chapter 3

Brady divided his gaze between the rugged terrain in his path and the steep sides of the arroyo to his left. The driving rain obscured his vision, and the sight of the rushing water filled him with a queasy dread. Kara knew the dangers of flash flooding in the canyon areas, but knowing the danger and avoiding it were different matters. If she’d been hurt, she might not have been able to get out of the swift water’s perilous path.

“Kara!” A bracing wind cut through his soaked tuxedo jacket, and an icy chill shook him to the core. The predicted cold front was settling in quickly. Hypothermia was a serious threat if he couldn’t get her back to the ranch promptly. “Kara!”

Brady paused briefly and cut the engine in order to better listen for a response. But even without the rumbling ATV motor, the sounds of the storm and rushing water created a cacophony that drowned out nearly all other noises. “Kara!” he shouted again hearing the growing desperation in his voice.

He was about to crank the engine again, when a flash of color just ahead of him snagged his attention through the veil of gray rain. Scrambling off the ATV, Brady jogged closer to the edge of the arroyo for a better look. Squinting against the water dripping in his eyes and craning his neck for a better view of the cliff below him, he glimpsed a scrap of red cloth at the end of a branch.

His heart squeezed. “Kara!”

The branch that held the limp, wet fabric wiggled harder.

“I’m here!” The voice was unmistakably Kara’s.

He barely heard her response over nature’s din, but the thin sound was the sweetest he’d ever heard. He barked a laugh that was half joy and half relief as he ran along the top of the arroyo to get closer. When he was more directly above her, he lay on his stomach and inched to the edge of the cliff. “Kara, it’s Brady! I’m going to get you up from there, babe. Are you hurt?”

“Brady?” She sounded stunned, as if she’d had no faith that he would come for her. He shoved down the irritation and disappointment her lack of faith stirred in him. Right now, he had a job to do. There’d be time to debate his commitment to her and her lack of dedication to him after they were both safe and dry.

“Are you hurt?” he repeated more firmly.

“N-no. At least, nothing s-serious. Just c-cold.”

Nothing serious. That could mean anything coming from Kara. She’d broken her ankle during a rodeo event once and not let anyone know until after she’d hobbled around on it facing down angry bulls all evening.

“Stay put. I’ll be right back.” He winced at the inanity of his order as he scrambled back to the ATV. He could picture Kara rolling her eyes at him. Stay put? Where was she going to go?

He prayed they’d have the chance to laugh at his goof later that evening—maybe by a warm fire while they sipped a brandy and talked out their differences?

Well, one could hope.

He opened the toolbox on the back of the ATV and grabbed out everything he thought could be useful. With a rope draped over his shoulder and the rest of the items clutched to his chest, he hurried back to the edge of the ravine.

“Kara, I’m going to lower a rope to you.” But he needed an anchor to tie off to. Crud! What could he use? As he cast his gaze about, searching for a secure place to tie off, he called, “I want you to make a loop under your arms and knot it so it won’t slip. Okay?”

“Got it. Hurry! The water is rising fast!”

He rejected the ATV as an option. It might be heavier than Kara, but the wet ground didn’t provide solid traction. The nearest tree was several feet away, but he saw no better possibility.

Kara would have to climb out, away from her ledge, until she was in line with the tree. Risky, but if she was tied securely, he could pull her to safety even if she slipped.

He tied a wrench to the end of the rope to weight it and give it more direction when he tossed the end down. Lying on his stomach, he called to her again. “Kara, are you ready? Here’s the plan...”

“Climb away from the ledge?” she cried when he explained his intentions. “But if I lose my grip or...”

She didn’t finish, and her silence spoke volumes. Why didn’t she trust him? Didn’t she know he’d never suggest something that wasn’t what he believed to be the best solution?

He gritted his teeth and swallowed the bitter discouragement her hesitation caused. “Kara, I’ll get you up here, one way or another, but your climbing over toward the tree will make it easier and safer to pull you up.”

“I...I see that. It’s just—”

She paused, and he didn’t waste time on further hedging or second-guessing. “Get ready. I’m lowering the rope now.”

* * *

Kara bit her trembling bottom lip. She was immensely glad to have rescue from the icy cold and treacherous ledge, but having Brady as her white knight twisted bittersweet tendrils around her heart. The last thing she wanted was to be more vulnerable to Brady’s numerous charms. Gratitude and respect for his valiant assistance warred inside her with anxiety. His selflessness and heroic side were two of the qualities that had made her fall for him...and were why she’d had to leave him. He was so like her father in that way. Always the rescuer, the protector, the one risking his own life to help another. But that selfless heroism had cost her father his life, and she couldn’t bear the idea of losing another loved one to duty.

Still, she was eager to get out of her predicament and get home. Brady had seen fit to come to her aid, and she accepted that gift gratefully. Uncurling from her huddle against the cliff wall, she pushed onto her knees, shaking so hard from cold and fatigue she feared she might lose her balance and tumble into the swift water.

Pulse thundering in her ears, she eyed the rushing floodwater dubiously. One miscue could send her into that turbulent river. Like Daddy.

She swallowed the bitter taste that rose in the back of her throat and angled her gaze toward the top of the arroyo. When Brady tossed the rope down to her, she reached out to grab the end. She swiped a hand toward the dangling rope, but her groping hand came up empty. Even with the tool-weighed end swinging toward her, the overhang above her meant it hung just beyond her reach.

“I can’t r-reach it!” she called up to him, her teeth chattering. The chill of the wind and rain, along with the cold air that had arrived with the storm, had numbed her muscles enough that her movements felt stiff and clumsy. She stretched as far as she dared, but her balance was off, thanks to lost finesse and chill-muddled dexterity.

“Keep trying. I’ll swing it down again.” And he did. But she still couldn’t reach far enough to snare the dangling end.

Next, she tried using the branch she’d made her flag from to knock it closer. She had to hold the very end as she extended it out to the rope, but it was working...until her icy fingers fumbled her grip and the branch dropped into the roiling water below.

An anguished cry slipped from her throat, rife with both frustration and horror. The churning water swallowed the red scrap of fabric and whisked it away in seconds. She shuddered, knowing the same would happen to her if she fell. The violent current would toss and twist her body like a rag doll. Suck her under...like Daddy.

“Kara?” Brady’s voice jerked her attention from the turbulent flash flood.

“It’s t-too far out. I can’t g-get it.”

“You have to, Kara! Keep trying!” His voice sounded more frustrated than encouraging.

She hated the idea of admitting defeat. Disappointment plucked hard. “No d-dice, Brady. It’s too f-far away.”

She heard his muffled curse and shared his frustration. Dispirited, she flopped back on her bottom, and her shoulders drooped. Hugging herself and trying to chafe warmth into her arms, she pushed aside the failure and regrouped. Think! What else could they do?

“Fine. I’m coming down,” he called.

She frowned and gave her head a little shake. Surely she’d heard him wrong. “Wh-what did you say?”

“I’m coming down to you. Just give me a minute to get tied on.”

Kara’s chest tightened, and her blood pressure spiked. “Brady, no! It’s too dangerous. There must be another way!”

“You have a better idea? ’Cause I’m all ears. Meantime we’re wasting daylight, and that water’s getting higher.”

She wished she could see him, could discuss their options face-to-face rather than shouting blindly, their voices drowned out by the wind, cascading runoff and pounding rain. But even more, she wished she had an idea that didn’t involve Brady shimmying down a rope in these horrid conditions to save her. “Brady, wait. We can’t—”

The scuffling sound of loose rock preceded a shower of gravel and mud, knocked loose from above. Her heartbeat scampered frantically. “Be careful! Brady, I—”

He grumbled and cursed, and the dangling rope shook and swayed. More loose red clay stone tumbled down near her, and she balled her hands in fists against her chest. Leaning out slightly, she craned her neck to glance up. She saw Brady’s boots, his black tuxedo pants streaked with red mud as he rappelled down the sheer rock. The rope was twined around his leg and over his shoulder in a strange configuration of loops and knots. Though Brady was a champion bull rider and calf roper, rock climbing was not part of his resume.

Tension twisted inside her as he inched downward. “Brady, please!”

But she wasn’t sure what her plea was. For him to be careful? For him to abandon his idea and climb back up? For him to hurry and get her to safety? All of the above.

She held her breath as he eased closer. A few inches, then a few more. Letting out a length of rope, he slid down a foot, then another. His feet kicked at the rock wall, slipping and scrabbling for purchase. Each time he descended, she bit back a gasp, praying the rope would tighten and catch him.

Finally he was eye-level with her, and the sight of his black hair plastered to his head, the rain spiking the sooty eyelashes around his piecing blue eyes, burrowed deep in her soul. Here was the man she’d loved so dearly, braving the elements of this nasty storm and going to great lengths to bring her safely home. She wanted to cry for what she’d given up, for all he meant to her and for the desperate longing to throw caution to the wind in order to spend the rest of her life with him. “Oh, Brady, I’m sorry. I—”

A sob choked her, and he shook his head.

“There’ll be time for that later.” He canted toward her, and the rope creaked. “Grab on. Take my wrist, and I’ll get yours.”

“I—” She edged closer to him and held out her hand.

“Come on, Kara. A little closer.”

She glanced down at the rushing water, at the sizeable gap from the edge of the outcropping to the rope. She wanted to trust him, but simply giving him her hand didn’t solve the dilemma of the distance between them.

When she hesitated, he stretched toward her, putting himself at a precarious angle.

“No! Brady, be careful!” Even as she shouted the warning, her own foot slipped on the sodden red clay stone. Her foot shot out, and she landed hard on her backside. Stunned for a minute by the jarring fall, her second of the afternoon, she blinked back the rain that dripped in her eyes.

“Kara!” She heard the panic in his voice, and though she’d had the breath knocked from her, she nodded to assure him she was unhurt...mostly.

“Stay there. Let me come to you.” He shifted his position, pushing off the rocks with his feet to swing toward the drooping cottonwood tree branches. Grabbing one of the thick limbs, he used the tree as an anchor so that he could lean farther toward her. “When you take my hand, brace your feet. I’m coming onto the ledge with you.”

She wasn’t sure what his plan was, but she followed his directions. When he was safely to the small shelf of rock where she’d taken refuge, he drew her into a tight embrace.

“My God, Kara! Your skin is ice cold. What were you thinking, riding off into this weather like that?”

She tensed, not wanting to be lectured on her flight from the shooter. She pushed against his chest, struggling to free herself, but his arms were steel bands holding her close. “Obviously, if I’d been th-thinking clearly I w-wouldn’t have ridden out here. The g-guy was shooting at m-me, and I panicked.”

A twitch of surprise rolled through his muscles. “You saw the sniper?”

She nodded weakly, her head pressed against Brady’s chest. His body radiated warmth, and she gave up her attempts to push him away. Instead she tucked herself closer to his heat and strength. “And when he saw me, he tried to kill me. When I rode off, I was in shock and scared. I j-just wanted to get out of there. Away from the shooter and...away from you.”

His fingers dug into her arms, and he shoved her to arms’ length. “Away from me? Why?”

She heaved a weary sigh. “I’d think that was obvious.”

“Not to me, it’s not!” He lowered his black brows and implored her with those damnably expressive eyes. “We were good together, Kara. Great together. What happened?”

Her gut wrenched, and she barked a humorless laugh. “Really? You want to have this discussion here? Now?”

His lips compressed in a scowl, and he swiped water from his face. “No. Not now. But we will have this talk! You owe me that much.”

She shuddered. From the cold. From fatigue. And from dread of dredging up all that heartache.

“Geez, Kara.” He slid out of his tuxedo jacket and put it around her shoulders. “We need to get you back to town before you suffer from hypothermia.”

“T-too late.” She gave him a weak wry grin, trying to lighten the mood, which he answered with another of his dark, scolding glares.

“All right. I’m going to retie the rope into a sling around you.” He stepped back and started unwinding the rope from around his leg and looping it around her. “Then I’ll tie on behind you, and we’ll—”

It happened so fast, Kara had no time to react. Brady was there one minute and gone the next. And so was the front half of the ledge they’d been perched on. The loose shale under the outcropping had washed away, taking the red clay stone—and Brady—with it.

“Brady!” she screamed in terror. She searched the turbulent water, her heart in her throat. The seconds stretched out, miserable eons, before she spied the white of his tuxedo shirt where he was tossed in the powerful current. He bobbed up and swam as best he could in the fast water, but even the strongest swimmer had little chance against the power of swift water. A sob choked her.

Not again!

“Brady!”

* * *

Hitting the frigid water shocked his system, and Brady involuntarily gasped. A mouthful of muddy water rushed into his throat, choking him. He coughed and gagged, even as the turbulent water sucked him under. Adrenaline spiking, he fought to surface, but the pounding current rolled him and grabbed at him. He lost his orientation. Couldn’t breathe. The icy cold stung him. His soaked clothes dragged at him. As his boots filled with water, he toed off the Tony Lamas, freeing his legs of their weighty encumbrance.

When he broke the surface, he sputtered out water and quickly gulped in air. But not enough. His lungs ached. His head throbbed. He moved his arms and legs, trying to paddle, to stay afloat. Something large and heavy crashed into his back. Debris, most likely.

Down he went. Beneath the water, all he saw was a blur of reddish brown. A flash of light. Shadows. Then suddenly he broke the surface, and he caught a snapshot of the terrain. Gray clouds. Rocky towers. A wind-whipped tree...

His pulse jumped, and instinctively he slapped at the water, flailing, grabbing for a branch. His fingers snagged leaves. His drifting slowed, but the foliage ripped free from his grasp. Damn!

Again he grabbed before the tree was gone. And found a small limb. The thin branch bowed and cracked.

No! He groped for another limb. Thicker, more solid. Coughing. Struggling for a breath as the flow of water tugged at him. His hand slipped, scraping his palm, but he clung to the branch of the cottonwood for all he was worth. He hauled himself in, using every ounce of strength in his shivering muscles. When the branch broke free of the trunk, he was washed downstream—all of eighteen inches. Pushed by the current, his body smacked into another thick branch of the tree. The impact slammed his diaphragm, forcing both air and water from his throat.

Pinned against the branch by the current, he blinked hard, fighting to stay conscious. The cold water sapped his strength, and his body ached from the battering of the debris and tree limbs. The struggle to draw air in his lungs left him dizzy. But losing his grip on the tree, giving in to the gray fuzziness at the edges of his vision, was not an option. Failure now meant both his death and Kara’s.

* * *

A bone-deep tremor rocked Kara. She watched helplessly as the muddy water tossed Brady and slammed him against a cottonwood tree growing at a low angle from the arroyo wall. Her breath caught and held as she waited for some movement, some sound that told her he was alive. Please, Brady! Move a hand. Call to me. Anything!

Through her tears, past and present blurred and tangled.

The suicidal jumper. Her father’s pleading with the woman. His heroic jump into the river to save her...and the heartbreaking image of his head disappearing below the water time and again as he tried to pull the woman to safety.

“You should be proud of your father. He died a hero. He gave himself in the line of duty,” well-meaning people had told her.

But for Kara, her father’s death was pointless. He’d cared more about a misplaced sense of duty than he had cared about her. She blamed his job, the inherent danger of law enforcement for stealing the man who’d been her lifeline when she was thirteen.

And now...would she lose Brady because he’d been trying to rescue her?

“Brady!” she shouted, her voice breaking.

She squeezed the rope in her hand, the rope Brady had been tying to her when the overhang gave way. The rope that—

Her pulse slowed...

The rope! With a sob of relief and revelation, she shot a glance to the coil she held. With a sobering breath, she shook herself from her self-pitying fog and panic. She had to act. She had the means to save both herself and Brady.

Giving the rope a hard tug, she reassured herself it was securely anchored at the top of the cliff. Of course it was. Brady would have seen to that.

“Brady, hold on!” she yelled as she knotted the rope around her waist. “I’m coming!”

To be sure she was tied fast, she threaded the rope between her legs to make a diaper sling, then back up under her dress. She prayed the rope was long enough to reach Brady. He’d washed a good way downstream. Once she felt she was lashed in, she faced the thundering water below her, and her stomach swooped.

Oh, dear God! Do I really have to go in that roiling maelstrom, that frigid death trap?

She did, if she was going to help Brady. She turned her gaze to the spot where Brady clung to the cottonwood, and her mind’s eye saw her father’s head sinking below the swirling water. Daddy!

The runoff rushing through the arroyo taunted her, and she sucked in a tremulous breath.

Was she destined to die the same way her father had? Adrenaline kicked her heart rate to a gallop.

Even if she died trying, she had to attempt to save Brady. Her life would be agony if she lost him on top of losing her father. Gathering her courage, she ran through logistics in her head. Not only did she have to swim to the cottonwood on the other side of the ravine, she had to account for the current washing her downstream. Timing was everything. She’d have to leap as far out across the water as she could. And upstream, buying herself a few more precious seconds to paddle to Brady.

As much as she hated losing the tuxedo jacket, she knew it would encumber her when she tried to swim. She shucked off the garment Brady had draped around her and groaned at the cold blast of wind on her arms. Glancing down at the soggy maxi dress stuck to her legs, she knew the yards of material had to go, as well. Its waterlogged weight and the impediment of a long skirt tangling around her legs would prove a liability she couldn’t afford. Grimacing when she remembered how much she’d paid for the dress last week in Amarillo, she pulled at the seam and ripped off the bottom half of the skirt. Goose bumps rose on her bare legs, and her toes were already growing numb from the cold. Haste was of the essence. The temperature would only continue to drop, endangering her and Brady more with each passing minute.

Then steeling her nerves, she faced the rushing water.

“Daddy, help me!” she whispered to the heavens...and jumped.