Page 68 of The Cowboy's Country Charm

“What is it?” she asked, not able to swallow away the sleep that covered her vocal chords.

“Horses are agitated. Something is out there.” She could see his figure pulling on pants and tugging on boots.

She watched as his shadowy form headed toward the far wall. Where the rifle was waiting.

She was wide awake now.

She rested on her elbows. “What do you think it is?” She needed to use the outhouse. Great timing.

“Don’t know. Not taking any chances. You stay in here.”

“Isn’t it best for you to stay in here too?” What if something happened to him? She was not a pararescuer in any way, shape, or form.

“If something is spooking the horses, I best drive it off.” She could see the outline of the rifle in his hands. “Stay here.” His tone brooked no argument.

She’d just have to wait. Not so easy to do.

It was a few heartbeats before she heard the boom of the rifle. The horses snorted their displeasure. Another boom. So something had been out there.

She waited for the door to open, for him to come back in. And she waited. The horses had quieted, and she listened to the silence.

Where was he?

She looked out the single window. By now, dawn had broken and daylight shone, so she could see everything. Except, the window was on the other side of the cabin, where nothing was stirring but a lone bird hopping on the ground.

She moved to the door. Cracked it open. The horses were still tied to the railing and seemingly calm, but there was no sign of Rusty. Maybe he had headed down to the stream to freshen up. She had used all the water in the bucket last night. The water buckets for the horses were turned over.

She opened the door wider.

It was then that she saw him, curled up on the ground. And not moving.

Her heart leaped into her throat, clogging it as she bolted out the door.

She ran to him dressed only in an oversized T-shirt. Grass crunched under her bare feet, and her heart hammered in her chest.

“Rusty. Rusty.” She crouched down. He wasn’t moving, and his eyes were closed, but he was breathing, thank the Lord. She touched him, though not moving him, in case something was broken. Fingers of panic clawed up her throat. “Please, please open your eyes.”

He stirred. Groaned. Moved.

“Don’t move. You may be hurt.”

His eyes opened. “What the hell?”

“You must have fallen.” She looked around. A tree root protruded out of the ground. That must have tripped him. “Stay still.”

“Damn.” He rolled on his side, ignoring her plea. He shook his head, as if clearing it, and propped up on his elbows.

“Are you hurt?”

“Just my pride. Though likely to feel the bruises I’m surely gonna have.”

“If that’s all, thank God.”

“Coyote was here sniffing around the horses, stirring them up. Are they okay?”

“I don’t know. I was so worried about you. They’re still tied to the railing.”

He sat fully up and held his head in his hands. “God, I’m going to have some hangover.”

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