Miss Murray On The Cattle Trail. Lynna Banning
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very slowly toward the wash bucket. Roberto stopped her.
“Señorita Alex, let me fix your arm.”
She followed him to the chuck wagon, where he pulled a clean dishtowel from one of his drawers and expertly fashioned it into a sling. Then he pressed the bottle of liniment into her hand.
“Tonight you must use this again. Make better.”
“Thank you, Roberto. I’m sorry I won’t be able to help you wash up the plates tonight.”
“No problema, señorita. I get José to help.” He spooned a big dollop of beans onto a tin plate and added a chunk of corn bread, then folded her left hand around the edge.
Zach watched her thank the old man again and settle herself on a log by the fire pit. The hands dug into their suppers, and Zach took his plate and a fork and went to stand outside the circle of firelight.
But Dusty just sat there, staring down at her plate.
Roberto noticed. “What is wrong, Señorita Alex? No hungry for my chili beans?”
“I...I can’t eat with my left hand. I can’t control the fork.”
The cook frowned. “I give you a spoon, okay?”
But after she dribbled beans down the front of her shirt it was clear she couldn’t manage the spoon, either.
Suddenly Zach couldn’t stand it one more minute. “Move over,” he ordered, settling himself next to her. He grabbed her spoon and loaded it up with beans. “You’re a lot of trouble, you know that? Open your mouth.”
Obediently she did so, and he shoveled some beans past her lips. She swallowed them down and looked up at him.
“Thank you, Zach.”
He gritted his teeth, broke off a bit of the corn bread and motioned for her to open her mouth again.
“Just like feeding a baby bird,” he muttered when the corn bread disappeared. Then he wished he hadn’t said it because her cheeks got pink, and when she glanced up there was real pain in her eyes.
Blue eyes, he noted again. Dark blue, like the morning glories Alice grew on the Rocking K porch trellis.
He bit his lip and loaded up her spoon again.
The day started out like all the others, but after breakfast Cherry told Zach the remuda was worrying him. “Been awful hot and dry the last few days, boss. Mebbe they smell somethin’ on the wind.”
Zach patted the old man’s shoulder. “You’ll figure it out, Cherry. Maybe they’re just thirsty.” He reined away and rode toward the herd. He’d assigned Dusty to ride drag, and he sure didn’t envy her on a scorcher like today. But the damn little fool insisted she wanted to do “her fair share” of the work just like the other hands, so he gave in. Riding drag might teach her a lesson.
Still, he’d keep an eye on her. And he might as well start now. There she was, twenty yards in back of the lumbering herd, the blue bandanna he’d given her pulled up over her nose and mouth, trotting along and yipping like any seasoned cowhand. Guess her arm felt better.
He fell in beside her horse without speaking, and she gave him the barest of nods to acknowledge his presence. It was so hot and still she probably didn’t have the energy to talk, so she didn’t. She wasn’t quiet that often, and he had to smile.
They rode in silence for a mile or so and then she glanced up to the sky. “Oh, look, we’re in for a thunderstorm!” She pointed at a huge cloud that was moving toward them. It looked dark and menacing, and it had an odd yellow-brown tinge to it.
Oh, my God. He wheeled his horse forward toward the herd.
“Skip! Cherry!” By the time he clattered up, the hands were already staring at the cloud overhead.
“Turn the herd,” Zach yelled. “Get them down. Hurry!” He pointed at the cloud bearing down on them, and they jolted into action, spurring hard to round up the steers.
He couldn’t leave Dusty alone back there, so he turned and kicked his mount into a gallop.
“What’s wrong?” she shouted when he reached her. “Is a thunderstorm coming?”
“Not a thunderstorm,” he shouted. “It’s a dust storm.” She pulled her horse to a halt and sat staring up at the advancing cloud.
The sky darkened to a dirty brown. Zach dismounted, then reached up and pulled her off the gelding. He positioned Dancer next to her mount. “Stand between the horses,” he ordered.
“What? But—”
“Don’t argue, just do it!”
“Not until you explain—”
“Dusty, shut up and move! Now!” He shoved her toward the animals. Then he grabbed both bridles and pulled her forward.
“Zach, I don’t understand. Why—”
“You will,” he said shortly. He grabbed her arm, dragged her next to him and pushed her against Dancer’s neck. Then he jockeyed the horses closer together to serve as buffers.
“They’ll squash us!” she protested.
“No, they won’t.” He moved in back of her and pressed her body hard into Dancer’s quivering form. “A dust storm is dangerous. Can’t see. Can’t breathe. It’s important not to panic.”
She started to say something, but at that moment the first gusts of wind hit. “Tie your hat on,” he ordered. “Use your bandanna.”
When she fumbled, he reached over and pulled the square of cotton tight over her Stetson and knotted it under her chin.
Dirt and sand pelted them, and the air filled with swirling grit. He snugged his own hat down as tight as he could, lifted his arms and positioned them around her head. Then he stepped in close and pressed his chest against her back.
“Breathe through your mouth,” he yelled.
He felt her head dip in a nod, and then the storm hit.
The air grew so thick it was hard to see. To Alex it felt as if night was falling, and a bolt of panic stabbed through her. She jerked, and Zach pushed her hat down to shield her face and tightened his arms over her head.
“Don’t panic,” he said, his voice calm. “It’ll get dark but it will pass. Just hang on, okay?”
She tipped her head up and down and felt his warm breath against the back of her neck. In the next minute, the air grew so gritty she couldn’t keep her eyes open, and then all at once she was suffocating.
Choking, she reared back and heard Zach’s voice against her ear. “Keep breathing,” he ordered. “It’s thick and dirty, but it’s air. Just breathe.”
How was he able to breathe? she wondered. He was sheltering her with his body, but the air was just as thick and dirty for him.
The wind screamed around them with a strange, eerie cry, and suddenly she was more frightened than she had ever been in her life. She began to tremble and felt his hard body press more tightly against her back.
“You’re all right, Dusty. Just hang on.” He brought his mouth closer to her ear. “Hang on.”
“But I can’t breathe!” She felt as if she was drowning. Could a person drown on dry land?
“Dusty, take real slow breaths. Don’t hurry it.”
She wanted to scream, but that would take precious air. She opened her mouth wide to gulp in air, and shut her eyes.
Zach’s breath rasped in and out at her back, wafting against her cheek every time he