“There’s a way into that ravine. You just have to take the long way around if you don’t want to or can’t take the ridge. If he’s down there, we’ll find him, Rowen. We’re not going to leave him alone.”
“Yes, but you just said the long way around. How much time does that take?”
“A half a day—or night, in this case—on horseback,” he answered.
“If he’s hurt, he could be . . . he could be . . .” I couldn’t get it out, so I clamped my mouth shut.
“Were doing our best, Rowen,” Justin said quietly. “We all like Jesse. We’d all risk our necks for him, but going out on that ridge would be like throwing your life away. No one would make it to him before they fell over the side, too.”
When Justin moved to pass by again, I let him.
I felt helpless. I was helpless.
Or was I?
With Rose and Justin preoccupied in the storage closet, I threw open the door and stared at the barn. A loud, almost frantic whinny came from it.
I could do it. I would do it.
I retrieved my ratty combat boots from the shoe basket beside the door, pulled them on, and raced for the barn. Justin was right. The rain was coming down so hard, I couldn’t see too far in front of me.
Once I was inside the barn, I slowed just long enough to snag one of the rain coats and headlamps hanging just inside and made my way down the row of stalls. I didn’t have long. Rose and Justin would have their supplies packed, and as soon as she knew I’d disappeared, Rose would figure out what I was up to. She wouldn’t let me go and do what I was about to do. She’d throw me down and sit on me if she had to, but I wouldn’t sit around when Jesse needed me.
Most of the stalls were empty. Another loud whinny came from one of the stalls a bit farther down, and I almost cried when I saw who it was.
Sunny was as wet and muddy as Justin. He was in his stall, pacing around and rearing up onto his back legs every few paces. He acted as frantic as I felt. Justin must have led him back, and thankfully, he was still saddled and bridled.
Jesse had showed me how to both saddle and bridle a horse, but I wasn’t especially quick at it. Right then, time was critical.
“Whoa, boy,” I said, as calmly as I could. “Are you worried about Jesse, too?” After slipping into the rain coat, I reached for the gate and slowly slid it open. From the crazed look in Sunny’s eyes, I worried he’d come barreling out of the stall as soon as I opened it.
Sunny flung his head about a few more times, then went as calm as a high-spirited horse like Sunny could go. I slid the gate the rest of the way open and grabbed ahold of Sunny’s reins. He let me lead him out of the stall and even stood still for me when I lifted my foot up into the stirrup. In all the times Jesse and I had gone out for evening rides, I’d never ridden Sunny. I usually rode Lily’s horse, Buttercup. The only time I rode Sunny was if Jesse was on him with me. Sunny didn’t like any other riders except for Jesse. The couple ranch hand show-offs I’d seen try it had been thrown within five seconds.
And there I was, someone who’d never ridden a horse before that summer, about to ride a one-man horse into the worst possible riding conditions. My survival instincts apparently took a vacation when I knew Jesse was in trouble.
I shifted my weight into the stirrup and swung my other leg up and over. I grimaced the entire time, bracing my body for Sunny to throw me off as soon as I settled into the saddle. A few seconds later, I opened my eyes to make sure I was in the saddle, on top of Sunny.
Sure enough.
Buttercup never even stood so steady and she was a twenty-year-old mare who could barely manage a trot anymore.
“Okay, Sunny,” I said, grabbing hold of the reins. “I’m going to need your help, buddy. I need you to help me find Jesse.” I slid the rain coat hood over my head and squeezed Sunny’s sides. He moved. He actually accepted a command from someone other than Jesse. “Take me to Jesse.” We emerged from the barn into the same sheets of rain. Sunny whinnied, and I just barely made out a form looking out the kitchen window. So much for my head start.
Grabbing onto the saddle horn as well, I clucked my tongue, and Sunny sprang to life.
Other than holding on for dear life and trying not to fall out of the saddle, I let Sunny do the rest. He raced past the corrals, past the driveway, and turned without any prompting from me. He really was taking me to Jesse. Sunny charged down the dirt road I’d driven a few times when I had to take lunch out to the guys working in the upper fields.
It wasn’t a dirt road anymore. It was a mud road. Sunny lost his footing a few times in the sludge, but I managed to stay in the saddle. Clumps of mud hit me from every angle, and the rain, at our speed, hurt my face until it finally went numb. It was the most rain I’d ever seen, and I’d grown up in Portland, Oregon.
Sunny charged ahead like he was the underdog in the Kentucky Derby. He did all the work, he blazed the trail; all I did was manage to hold on. So why did I feel so damn exhausted by the time Sunny’s gallop slowed? Might have had something to do with being soaked to the bone and my lower half being all tingly and numb from bouncing around in the saddle.
We were long past the spot I’d dropped the guys’ lunch off. I couldn’t tell how far, but I knew it was miles farther. The rain was slowing, so the visibility had slightly improved, but when I saw where Sunny was heading, I kind of wished I couldn’t see a thing again.
We were winding down a trail that continued to narrow. Where we were, the trail was wide enough for two riders to travel side by side, but every few feet, it got narrower and narrower until, finally, it seemed barely wide enough for Sunny and me.