Page 95 of Conveniently Wed
At the man’s words, everything went perfectly still and silent.
The big one?
Edgar?
She could see the other men’s mouths moving, knew the stampede must still be unfolding in the slight valley below them.
She couldn’t hear any of it.
Edgar had fallen? In the midst of the stampede?
Could he survive that?
She didn’t know, and the fear and desperation choked her. She closed her eyes, praying for Edgar, praying for Emma. The men, including the federal marshal, hadn’t found her in the dark. Fran could only hope she’d reached one of the cowboys or was far, far away.
Edgar couldn’t be gone. She hadn’t had a chance to tell him what she should’ve told him the night before. That she loved him.
She’d chickened out because he’d distanced himself from her and because he’d been right—she should have told him about Underhill’s accusation from the start.
If she had, would they have gotten to this point? Would Edgar still be hurt—or worse? Emma lost and alone?
She didn’t know.
The horse shifted beneath her and she struggled to keep her balance with her hands bound.
“Let’s get her back to the boss,” one of the men said.
She ducked, hoping that her unbound hair obscured her face enough for them to think she was Emma. The longer they went without chasing after her sister, the safer Emma would be.
Edgar shoved to his feet, trying to shake off the jarring sensation of falling.
The horse had stumbled, and they’d both gone down, but blessedly, the animal seemed to be okay.
It struggled to its feet, eyes rolling and white around the edges, head raised in fear.
“Easy, boy,” he said, loud enough to be heard over the thundering hooves.
A steer brushed by, close enough to knock into Edgar’s shoulder. He staggered.
Kept his feet by sheer force of will.
He had to get to Fran.
The horse seemed to know the danger they were in. If they didn’t get up, they could be killed.
Edgar waited as the animal pushed to its feet and then threw his leg over its back.
They were moving again, Edgar feeling that he’d be battered and bruised tomorrow morning.
It didn’t matter.
He had to get to Fran.
He pushed his horse, edging toward the wagon.
He could see cattle crashing over where the wagon had been.
Heart in his throat, he wondered if they’d survived. They had to. He had unfinished business with Fran.
