Water.
Mud.
Noise.
Lou pushed the lead cattle uphill while Emmett circled behind.
One steer went down.
Another crashed into it.
Lou’s mare slid nearly to her knees.
“Left!” Emmett shouted.
She turned.
A wall of runoff came through the lower wash.
Lou drove six steers toward higher ground.
Emmett disappeared in rain.
For ten terrible seconds she could not see him.
Then he emerged below, hat gone, soaked hair against his face, forcing three trapped yearlings through a narrow cut.
“Move!”
They worked until darkness.
Forty-nine cattle reached safety.
Then fifty.
Fifty-one.
Fifty-two.
The last steer stood trapped behind brush piled against the bank.
Emmett climbed down.
Lou swore at him.
He ignored her.
Together they cleared enough branches to free the animal.
They returned to the ranch after nine.
Lou’s hands shook from cold.
Her left palm burned.
Inside the kitchen she discovered a mesquite thorn buried near the base of her thumb.
“I’ll get it tomorrow.”
“No.”
Emmett pulled out a chair.
Lou sat.
He lit the lamp.
Then took her hand.
It should not have mattered.
They had touched before.
Passing reins.
Lifting gates.
Helping each other mount.
But this was different.
His hand closed gently around her wrist.
The kitchen was quiet.
No cattle.
No Roy.
No Perch.
No storm except rain fading against the windows.
Emmett leaned closer.
Lou watched his face.
His fingers were rough.
Careful.
The thorn came free.
Neither moved.
His thumb rested over her pulse.
Lou could feel her own heartbeat betraying her.
Emmett looked up.
“Lou.”
Something in his voice changed the room.
She whispered, “What?”
“I’ve got something I want to say.”
Her breath caught.
Then wood crashed outside.
Perch’s cane.
“Lou!”
They separated.
Hoofbeats pounded into the yard.
A rider arrived covered in mud.
Message from the southern range.
Ash Pomeroy would move six hundred cattle at dawn.
One day ahead of Lou.
Directly toward Sage Hen Wells.
Lou read the message twice.
The wells were the last dependable water before a thirty-mile dry crossing.
Six hundred cattle could lower them dangerously.
A thousand could empty them.
Emmett stood opposite her.
Neither spoke for several seconds.
Finally Lou folded the paper.
“He’s forcing us behind him.”
“Yes.”
“If we wait two days for recovery, we miss the delivery window.”
“Yes.”
“If we follow immediately, there may not be enough water.”
“Yes.”
Lou looked at him.
“What would you do?”
Emmett’s answer came without hesitation.
“Leave before him.”
“We aren’t ready.”
“We get ready.”
“We have three riders.”
“Then tomorrow we find more.”
“From where?”
“Anywhere.”
Lou laughed bitterly.
“Drunks and boys?”
Emmett’s mouth moved faintly.
“Told you.”
The fear did not disappear.
But something else came beside it.
Resolve.
Lou stood.
“All right.”
Emmett nodded.
“We ride in three days.”
“No.”
She looked at the message.
“Two.”
He stared.
Then smiled.
“That’s a terrible idea.”
“You staying?”
His eyes held hers.
“Until you tell me not to.”
This time she did not walk away.
For one second Lou considered closing the distance between them.