Read Online The Cedar Tree (Love Is Not Enough) by Danni McGriffith - Free Book Online
Authors: Danni McGriffith
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gave a frustrated exclamation.
"You're all right where you're at," he said, shoving his hat farther onto his head. "Hang on tight." He spurred Lucky up the hill and into the brush.
An hour of hard riding later, he had the cattle gathered again and headed around the reservoir nestling in an open depression among pine and aspen covered hills. In that hour, he and Katie had barely spoken, but she had clung to his belt with a silent tenacity that surprised him. At times she held around his middle, taking shelter from lashing branches behind his back. Awareness of her slender body pressing against him filled him with exhilaration in spite of the gravity of the situation.
The cattle finally settled into a plodding walk around the lake. Panting and sweating from the effort of the past hour, he rode Lucky down to water's edge to drink. While the horse drank, he loosened his canteen and shifted in the saddle to offer it to her. She gave it a longing glance, but then shook her head and turned away.
His throat was so dry he had to swallow before he could speak. "Why are you so stubborn all the time? Take it."
She reluctantly took the canteen. Her slender throat moved as she gulped the water then she handed it back to him.
He drank deeply then wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his shirt. "Did you see what happened to Dave?"
Worry filled her eyes. "A bull got after him on the edge of the road there where the shoulder's so narrow. He yelled and popped him with his rope, but the bull wouldn't back off. The shoulder of the road must've crumbled. All I could see was Studmuffin's legs thrashing around before he disappeared."
He winced, picturing the steep, rock and brush covered drop at the edge of the road. Dave probably hadn't survived. "You don't know if it's…er…bad?"
"If you mean is he dead, I don't know," she said sharply. "Dad was there as soon as I was and he sent me for help."
He drank then offered the canteen to her again. She shook her head.
He twisted on the lid. "How much farther is it to the line shack?"
They were making for the cabin inside the boundaries of the grazing allotments where a rider hired by the ranchers to tend their livestock lived through the summer with his horses and dogs.
"Five miles or so." She turned her head to search behind them, but the dust cloud from the cattle obscured the road. "I wish Karl would catch up."
"If he hasn't by now, he's probably not comin'."
Her shoulders drooped. "Take me back to Tim and I'll get up behind him."
"Lucky's bigger than his horse. You're fine where you're at." He nudged Lucky into a walk down the dusty road. "Am I botherin' you?"
She shifted on the horse behind him and gasped. "I told you I'm indifferent to you," she gritted through her teeth.
He turned, frowning. "What's the matter?"
"Nothing. Just go. We've still got a long way to go and the back of this saddle isn't all that comfortable."
"I'll trade places with you."
"Just go."
They pushed the cows around the lake to the east where dusk fell in the aspens. Katie had been silent, but now she gave an occasional sharp intake of breath, quickly cut off.
He finally stopped and shifted around so he could view her face. "What's wrong with you?"
She hesitated. "A cow kicked me."
He frowned. "Where'd she get you?"
"On my shin."
He leaned over—a spot of blood as big as an orange stuck the denim of her jeans to her leg, just beneath the knee.
"Just go," she said impatiently. "I can't do anything about it here and we've still got a ways to go. If I get down now, I won't be able to get back up."
He gave her a long look then raised his gaze to the sky behind them, aware for some time of a change in the air. A thunderhead in the western sky billowed upward in pure white cotton-like puffs from a bottom of deep purple blackness.
He turned back in his saddle, urging Lucky to a trot. Yelling, he popped his rope end loudly against his chaps, pressing the wearied cattle to a trot also.
Ten minutes later, he
"You're all right where you're at," he said, shoving his hat farther onto his head. "Hang on tight." He spurred Lucky up the hill and into the brush.
An hour of hard riding later, he had the cattle gathered again and headed around the reservoir nestling in an open depression among pine and aspen covered hills. In that hour, he and Katie had barely spoken, but she had clung to his belt with a silent tenacity that surprised him. At times she held around his middle, taking shelter from lashing branches behind his back. Awareness of her slender body pressing against him filled him with exhilaration in spite of the gravity of the situation.
The cattle finally settled into a plodding walk around the lake. Panting and sweating from the effort of the past hour, he rode Lucky down to water's edge to drink. While the horse drank, he loosened his canteen and shifted in the saddle to offer it to her. She gave it a longing glance, but then shook her head and turned away.
His throat was so dry he had to swallow before he could speak. "Why are you so stubborn all the time? Take it."
She reluctantly took the canteen. Her slender throat moved as she gulped the water then she handed it back to him.
He drank deeply then wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his shirt. "Did you see what happened to Dave?"
Worry filled her eyes. "A bull got after him on the edge of the road there where the shoulder's so narrow. He yelled and popped him with his rope, but the bull wouldn't back off. The shoulder of the road must've crumbled. All I could see was Studmuffin's legs thrashing around before he disappeared."
He winced, picturing the steep, rock and brush covered drop at the edge of the road. Dave probably hadn't survived. "You don't know if it's…er…bad?"
"If you mean is he dead, I don't know," she said sharply. "Dad was there as soon as I was and he sent me for help."
He drank then offered the canteen to her again. She shook her head.
He twisted on the lid. "How much farther is it to the line shack?"
They were making for the cabin inside the boundaries of the grazing allotments where a rider hired by the ranchers to tend their livestock lived through the summer with his horses and dogs.
"Five miles or so." She turned her head to search behind them, but the dust cloud from the cattle obscured the road. "I wish Karl would catch up."
"If he hasn't by now, he's probably not comin'."
Her shoulders drooped. "Take me back to Tim and I'll get up behind him."
"Lucky's bigger than his horse. You're fine where you're at." He nudged Lucky into a walk down the dusty road. "Am I botherin' you?"
She shifted on the horse behind him and gasped. "I told you I'm indifferent to you," she gritted through her teeth.
He turned, frowning. "What's the matter?"
"Nothing. Just go. We've still got a long way to go and the back of this saddle isn't all that comfortable."
"I'll trade places with you."
"Just go."
They pushed the cows around the lake to the east where dusk fell in the aspens. Katie had been silent, but now she gave an occasional sharp intake of breath, quickly cut off.
He finally stopped and shifted around so he could view her face. "What's wrong with you?"
She hesitated. "A cow kicked me."
He frowned. "Where'd she get you?"
"On my shin."
He leaned over—a spot of blood as big as an orange stuck the denim of her jeans to her leg, just beneath the knee.
"Just go," she said impatiently. "I can't do anything about it here and we've still got a ways to go. If I get down now, I won't be able to get back up."
He gave her a long look then raised his gaze to the sky behind them, aware for some time of a change in the air. A thunderhead in the western sky billowed upward in pure white cotton-like puffs from a bottom of deep purple blackness.
He turned back in his saddle, urging Lucky to a trot. Yelling, he popped his rope end loudly against his chaps, pressing the wearied cattle to a trot also.
Ten minutes later, he
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