The undulating prairie grasses rolled out before them like a vast expanse of emptiness. As Sam’s horse plodded along beside Matt’s, she couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed by the aching chasm of loneliness that crept over her.
In the days that had passed since the dance, Sam had repeatedly tried to put her emotions back on an even keel. But they wouldn’t cooperate. Ever since she’d imagined herself dancing with Matt, she’d realized that she was falling for him hard.
For her, the most innocent of moments was anything but guileless.
She listened to his even breathing at night while they lay side by side. It meant nothing to him, of course. He was simply sleeping beside one of the trail hands.
But sometimes, she would watch him. And wonder how it might have been between them if she’d never cut her hair and taken on the disguise of a boy.
Would she have caught his attention at the dance? Would he have approached her? Taken a few minutes to talk with her? Would he have asked her to dance? Would he have escorted her out of the barn for a passionate kiss?
She thought about the kiss most of all. Would he kiss her slowly, take his time, make her toes curl? Would he whisper in her ear that he loved her?
“Sam?”
Sam jerked out of her reverie at the sound of his voice. Grateful that her bandanna hid her burning cheeks, she glanced over at Matt. “Yeah?”
He nudged his horse closer to hers. “It looked like you were drifting off. You gotta pay attention. The least little thing can start a stampede.”
She heaved a sigh and lied. “I was paying attention.”
“Some girl at the dance catch your fancy?” His eyes were sparkling and she imagined that beneath his bandanna he was grinning.
“No,” she replied curtly. “Why would you think that?”
“Because it was right after that dance that you started getting those faraway looks in your eyes. And usually when a fella is gazing at nothing, he’s thinking about a woman.”
“Did someone at the dance catch your fancy?” she dared to ask.
“There were a couple of girls who I thought were pretty.” Now he got a faraway look in his eye. “And a couple who sure were skilled when it came to kissing.”
She had a strong need to stomp her foot in frustration, but that was a little hard to do when her feet were in the stirrups. He had no idea that every time he talked about girls he was tormenting her.
A week later Sam was staring at the churning waters of the Red River. She was on the verge of leaving Texas…going into Indian Territory and beyond that into Kansas and Missouri.
If she had any doubts about going forward, she knew she needed to address them now. Once she crossed the Red, she’d have no opportunity to go back—at least, not alone. But as much as she could smell the muddy river, she could smell the scent of money more.
Just a few more weeks and she would have completed the journey. She’d be heading home, and she’d never see Matt again. Excitement at the prospect of being with her family dimmed when she thought of leaving Matt.
She’d miss him. They’d formed a tentative friendship, a bond that she knew would snap in two if he ever discovered the truth about her.
The cattle had been crossing the river for much of the day. They seemed to be proud of their swimming skills. Their bodies sank below the surface of the river. All she could see were their heads and their horns. So many cattle swimming across.
And as usual, she and Matt were near the tail end of the herd.
“If you want, we can wait until all the cattle are on the other side before we swim our horses across,” Matt said as he sat on his horse beside hers.
Neither of them wore their bandannas pulled up over their faces. The cattle weren’t kicking up dust. They were stirring up the water.
“I’m not afraid of the water. Besides, isn’t a trail hand supposed to go across with the cattle?” she asked.
“Yeah, but—”
She sliced her gaze over to him, daring him to say she needed special treatment simply because she was his responsibility.
“Just remember to keep a strong grip on your saddle horn,” he said. “A tight hold on the reins. The saddle will get slippery, but you’ll be all right as long as you keep your seat.”
She wished she could ease his worry by confessing that she knew how to swim, but then she’d have to explain why she hadn’t ever taken a dip in the rivers they’d traveled along or camped near. They hadn’t had to cross the others because they’d run north and south. But this one ran west to east.
“I’ll be fine, Matt.”
“Stay close to me, Sam,” he ordered before kicking his horse and urging it down the embankment.
Stay close to him. She’d been riding the trail for six weeks. She knew her way around the cattle. He thought she was a kid who needed protecting. It irritated her no end.
She knew his caring shouldn’t, but it did.
Cinnamon balked at the water’s edge. The water was swirling from all the cattle milling around. She nudged the mare’s flanks. “Come on, girl, we gotta get.”
Her horse headed into the water, but by now several cows had separated Sam from Matt. She wasn’t worried, though. She was confident she could handle her horse.
The water began to lap at her calves. Then it rose to her thighs. The force of the current surprised her. It hadn’t looked that strong from the bank.
The cattle bawled. It seemed that some wanted to turn back to the shore from which they’d come. Others were moving in closer, their horns clacking and becoming entangled.
A cow shoved up against her. Cinnamon whinnied. The steer turned its head, its huge horns making a wide arc. Sam jerked back and balanced precariously on the slippery saddle.
With her arms flailing, she lost her seating and splashed into the water. She went beneath the murky depths. Something bumped into her from one side, something else from the other. Furry, warm. Cows. It had to be cows.
She fought her way to the surface and gasped for air. Surrounded by huge beasts, she was being knocked about. She couldn’t see Cinnamon.
The water started to drag her down. She went back under. While she struggled and kicked against the current, she worked her coat off. With it gone, she found it easier to stroke, to claw her way to the top.
She broke through to the surface, took a gulp of precious air, and immediately found herself pulled back under by the strong current and the undertow created by the milling cattle.
Something hard kicked her in the side, and white lightning exploded before her closed eyes. She had to get free. Had to get free.
But everywhere she turned, she found herself hemmed in by bellies, legs, and rumps.
There was no escape.
“Sam!” Matt yelled.
His gut tightened into a painful knot as he watched Sam come up for air before slipping beneath the murky, reddish-brown water of the river. Woven tightly together, the cattle were bawling.
Standing in the stirrups, Matt swung his leg clear of the saddle before leaping onto the back of a steer. Horns clacked around him as he scrambled onto the shoulders of another longhorn—all the while straining to keep Sam within his sight. He could see Sam thrashing through the water, trying desperately to paddle.
He jumped to the next steer. He saw Sam come back up, the drenched clothing had to be weighing the boy down.
The beast Matt was on started to roll. He scrambled across to the next one, and then he spotted a hole between the animals. Taking a deep breath, he dived into it.
Working his way past bellies and legs, he swam to where he hoped he’d find Sam. He broke through the surface of the water, breathing harshly. He saw Sam’s flailing arms.
With sure strokes born of desperation, he swam toward the kid. He fought the rapid current, ducked to avoid a razor-sharp horn. He was not going to let the boy drown. No way, no how. He wasn’t going to lose Sam the way he’d lost so many friends during the war.
As he neared, Sam went under. Reaching out, clawing through the water, he grabbed Sam’s arm and jerked him up. White as a sheet, Sam was gasping for breath, the lines around his mouth tight. A sure sign of pain. Had a steer gored him? Matt had known that to happen before.
“It’s all right, Sam, I’ve got you!” He slipped his arm beneath Sam’s armpits and began churning through the water as best as he could with only one arm. He headed for the Texas side of the river because it was closer. They could always cross to the other side later, once he knew for certain that Sam was unharmed. He could feel Sam trembling, quivering.
As he neared the bank, the bottom of the river met his boots. Standing, he hauled Sam to his feet. Had he ever noticed how slight Sam was? How thin? The kid hardly weighed anything at all.
The mud sucked at Matt’s boots as he dragged Sam to the shore. Gently releasing Sam, he bent over, planted his hands on his thighs, and fought to draw air into his aching lungs. Sam crawled to a tree, sat up slightly, and leaned against it, breathing harshly.
“You were supposed”—he gasped for air—“to stay close by me.”
Sam nodded. He was turned away, holding his side.
“Sam?”
“I’m…okay.”
“A steer probably kicked you. Let me take a look-see at your ribs.” He crouched beside the boy. Putting his hand on Sam’s shoulder, he turned him slightly.
And froze.
Sam’s drenched clothes were plastered to his body, outlining small hills and shallow valleys.
Hills? Valleys?
Several buttons on Sam’s shirt had come loose. The material parted to reveal a glistening wet mound of flesh, a gentle swelling where there should have been nothing but flatness.
Matt scrambled back as though Sam had suddenly burst into flames. “Gawd Almighty! You’re a girl!”