Home on the Ranch: Oklahoma: Defending the Rancher's Daughter / The Rancher Bodyguard. Carla Cassidy
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hit. It was merely a routine maintenance task she could have asked one of the ranch hands to do, but she’d wanted to do it herself.
She’d needed something to pass the long hours of the late afternoon, something to keep her mind away from the grief and the questions that ripped at her heart in those quiet moments of solitude and inactivity.
A flash of lightning ripped through the black clouds, followed by a roar of thunder. She decided checking the other stock tanks would have to wait. She didn’t want to be out in an open pasture with an electrical storm overhead.
She checked the tank, saw the windmill spinning and that the water level was where it was supposed to be, then turned to head back to where she’d parked her pickup a distance away.
At that moment a loud noise seemed to come from the back side of the pasture near the cattle. Kate froze, trying to identify the odd, sharp noise. Not thunder, then what?
Within seconds the ground began to tremble beneath her feet and a dust cloud formed over the bawling cattle.
As she stared in horror, she saw the herd break into a run, frightened cows bumping shoulders, slamming hooves against the ground in a stampede of beasts. And they were running directly at her.
She shot a frantic glance at her pickup, which suddenly seemed too far away. Still, she took off running toward it, knowing it was the only thing that would keep her from being crushed beneath the onslaught of frightened animals.
The ground seemed to have stolen the thunder from the sky as Kate ran. Her heart crashed into her ribs as the herd came closer…closer.
She was just about to the truck when the first animal careened into her with a force that sent her airborne. She crashed down on one foot then crumbled as her ankle screamed in pain.
Panic clawed up her throat as she saw the rest of the livestock bearing down on her, close enough that she could see the frantic roll of their eyes.
She tried to scramble to her feet, but her ankle couldn’t hold her and she fell to the ground once again. Dust choked her and she smelled the sweat of the cattle, heard the snorts of distress as they approached like a locomotion at full steam.
Trampled. Within seconds she was going to be trampled to death. Frantically she looked at the truck and realized her only hope.
As fast as she could, she rolled across the ground. She’d just slid beneath the truck as the first of the herd thundered by.
The hooves against the dry earth kicked up a dust storm and Kate squeezed her eyes tightly closed as she heard bodies crash into the sides of the vehicle, heard the bawling of calves being trampled.
As the last of the livestock went by, she could hear the sounds of fence breaking and the frantic cries of cowboys trying to corral the crazed herd.
She remained beneath the truck, coughing dust and trying to ignore the painful throb of her ankle as the sounds faded in the distance. Her heart pounded almost painfully as she realized how close she had come to a terrible death.
Hooves approached and as the horse was reined in next to the truck, a pair of faded boots hit the ground. She recognized the snakeskin as belonging to Sonny Williams, the ranch manager.
He leaned down and peered beneath the truck. “Ms. Sampson, are you all right?” his deep, familiar voice asked urgently.
She took a deep breath and released it slowly, the panicked fear ebbing away. “Yes, I’m okay.” She scooted out from beneath the truck and pulled herself up to a sitting position.
The wooden fencing at the far end of the property was gone, as was most of the herd. A calf lay dead and nearby another calf limped slowly, bawling like a frightened baby.
Kate wanted to bawl, as well. If she’d been alone, she’d curl up and cry, but instead she swallowed against her tears, unwilling to show any sign of weakness in front of Sonny.
She’d had enough problems with the ranch hands since her father’s death. The last thing she wanted them to see was any sign of weakness on her part.
“I got the men out rounding up the herd and once we get them all back, we’ll get the fence mended,” he said, then held out a hand to help her up.
She reached out to grab the middle-aged man’s hand and pull herself up, but instantly nearly crumbled as she tried to put weight on her left foot.
“You need to go have that looked at,” Sonny said, his gaze on the ankle that had already swollen up to twice its normal size. “I’ll drive you in to the hospital.”
“No, it’s okay. I can drive myself,” she replied, leaning heavily against the driver’s door. At least it was her left foot and the truck was an automatic. “I need you here to take care of this mess.” Her sentence was punctuated by a loud clap of thunder.
He looked toward the fence and shook his head. “Guess it was the storm that spooked them?”
“Who knows?”
“Are you sure you’re okay to drive yourself to the emergency room?” His weathered features worked into a deep frown.
“I’ll be fine. Just take care of things here. When I get home you can give me a full damage report.” She slid into the truck.
“I’ll open the gate for you,” he said.
She nodded and started the engine as Sonny remounted his horse. She followed him to the gate and, when he opened it, she drove through.
The pain in her ankle worried her. She couldn’t afford to be down, didn’t have time for a broken bone. Not only did she have questions about her father’s riding accident two weeks ago, and suddenly finding herself running the ranch, but now she had some disturbing questions about what had just happened to her.
For the past two weeks she’d entertained dark thoughts, suspicions that had kept sleep at bay and a gun next to her bed.
She’d told herself she was overreacting, that grief did terrible things to people and she was just desperately trying to make sense of her father’s untimely death.
She’d tried to convince herself that the overwhelming job of suddenly running the ranch was skewing her thinking. But such rational thoughts did nothing to dispel the darkness that had claimed her soul.
Maybe it was time to speak her suspicions out loud to somebody. But who? Sheriff Jim Ramsey was good at arresting drunk and disorderly cowboys on a Saturday night, but she wasn’t sure she trusted his investigative skills in working a murder case.
Besides, she’d tried to talk to him soon after her dad’s death and he’d dismissed her concerns with a pat on her head and a sympathetic sigh.
Funny, when she thought about who she trusted most to talk to, it was also the man she detested more than anyone else in the world.
Zack West.
Her fingers tightened on the steering wheel as she thought of the cowboy who had been the source of her first passionate fantasies and for years the bane of her very existence.
Zack worked for his family business, Wild West Protective Services. Zack’s father had begun the business years ago and it now was a multimillion dollar enterprise offering bodyguard services to people all around the world. Zack, along with his four brothers and sister, worked the business.
It had been years since she’d seen him; he spent most of his time away from Cotter Creek and on location. She’d heard through the grapevine that he was back in town. As soon as she got to the hospital, she’d give him a call. As much as she hated it, she needed him.
The throb of her ankle brought back the memory of the strange sound she’d heard just before the cattle had stampeded.
The loud noise had had nothing to do with natural phenomena. Now that she had a moment to consider it, she thought the sound had been like that of a bull horn.
Yes, it was time to talk to Zack.