Needless to say, I didn’t sleep very well after that. By morning, whether I had stayed awake waiting for him to show up or been fucked all night long simply didn’t matter. That fabulous frame of mind I’d enjoyed the day before was gone, replaced with inner turmoil and indecision. I plodded mechanically through the morning chores and then went out to check on Goldie.
Her udder looked like it was about to pop. In fact, it was already dripping milk—white milk, rather than clear liquid—and as anyone who’s ever waited anxiously for a mare to foal can attest, that’s about the best sign of impending labor there is.
The mare seemed calm enough, so it was safe to assume she would wait until the middle of the night to foal. If she’d been agitated, I wouldn’t have left the barn, and I probably would have camped out in the tack room all day.
Not that horses aren’t capable of foaling all alone—in fact, they prefer it. Still, it’s one of those events horse breeders like to be on hand for in case there’s a problem. Besides, this foal was more important to me than most. I’d bred Goldie to one of the top stallions around, and added to the fact that she’d been a champion barrel racer back in my racing days, their offspring would be quite valuable.
I hadn’t talked with any of the men yet. Even Dusty seemed to be making himself scarce, so I had no idea whether Rufus had delivered another lecture the evening before. Troy hadn’t said anything about it, so perhaps he hadn’t. Maybe Rufus had finally realized the utter futility of his meddling. I certainly hoped so. Now that I knew about those lectures, it embarrassed me to think a ranch foreman would feel the need to chastise the hands for getting rowdy with the boss. Not only was it embarrassing, it was downright ridiculous. Surely, he would get over it eventually—especially if I made it clear that protecting my virtue was not his responsibility.
If I’d known what was going on behind my back sooner, I think I would have said something to him then, but the nagging suspicion that Dusty’s saddle had been deliberately tampered with made me hesitant. If Rufus was capable of something that heinous, I didn’t want to stir up any more trouble by confronting him.
Would a confrontation reveal anything? Rufus was such a hard man to read. Dusty was right about him going blank when any other man would’ve been cussing a blue streak. Figuring out what might be going on in his head was tough, and it was a given he wouldn’t confess.
I’d also considered the possibility that Rufus wasn’t responsible for Dusty’s “accident.” The only other suspect I could come up with was Bull. Dusty made no secret of his dislike for Bull, and he picked on him constantly. Perhaps that was what Rufus meant when he’d referred to Dusty as a troublemaker. I had a hard time justifying that, though. Dusty might have a broken leg now, but on the whole, he was a decent, hardworking, intelligent man. Why Rufus would favor Bull over him was difficult for me to understand. Bull also had a bit of a temper. I wouldn’t have put it past him to try to even the score, although I’d have guessed his retaliation would be more along the lines of a practical joke. Humiliating, perhaps, but nothing that would cause actual harm.
After assuring myself Goldie wasn’t going to foal any time soon, I decided to go for a ride. A good gallop across the open range had always been the best way to purge the cobwebs from my brain, and my head certainly needed clearing. I took my big paint gelding out of his stall and saddled him up, still curious as to why Dusty wasn’t around to help. Perhaps knowing Troy was more to me than simply one of the guys had made him back off a tad. I only knew I had no intention of nosing around trying to find him. If he wanted to see me, he knew where I was. If I wasn’t in the office, I was either in the barn or my work room—which is where I probably should’ve been. I had orders for three stained-glass doors, and Jenny wasn’t the only one getting impatient.
My artwork had been the main thing that kept me sane after Cody died—especially on the days I was stuck indoors. Sometimes, when loneliness threatened to overwhelm me, I worked late into the evening. I knew I had to keep busy, so I’d put a couple of ads in various newspapers and had received several orders as a result. Subsequent orders had come about through word of mouth, and they’d kept me steadily busy for the past year or more. Prior to that, I’d contented myself with doing windows for the house, although the kids had teased me about making the place seem more like a church than a ranch house.
I didn’t care. Although living in an all-male household had prevented me from decorating with frilly curtains or lace, stained glass added beauty rather than femininity to an otherwise austere setting and was much better tolerated. From a thematic standpoint, most of the windows were scenes of ranch life, so they fit the overall scheme better than lace would have anyway. I was quite content to design windows using horses, cows, and mountains, in addition to the occasional cowboy or Native American. The local wildflowers were also popular, and I was working on a desert flower scene at the time. The promised date had already passed, but I went for that ride anyway.
Apache hadn’t been out for several days, and he was as anxious for a good run as I was, making a whip and spurs completely unnecessary. Knowing the craggy rocks at the top of the slope would slow him down without any help from me, I aimed him up the hill behind the house and let him fly. Upon reaching the summit, we turned and continued along the ridge at a much more sober pace. I thought about heading up to the fence line where the men were working to see how the job was progressing. Figuring it was as good a destination as any, I cantered off in that direction.
I slowed my horse to a walk now and then, taking the time to enjoy yet another perfectly beautiful early fall day. The leaves were beginning to turn and the sky was a crisp, clear blue. I could hear birds calling to one another, but aside from that, the silence was nearly complete—which was why I was able to hear someone yelling for help.
The closer I got, the more familiar the voice sounded.
Dusty.
From my position high up on the ridge, I would never have spotted the truck if I hadn’t been able to hear him. The truck had plowed into a thicket at the foot of the hill and was almost completely obscured by branches. The fact that the truck was green didn’t help matters, either.
As Apache and I slid down the steep slope to the thicket, I decided right then and there the next truck we bought was going to be red. After that, I was going to put homing beacons on my cowboys. This “accident” crap was starting to get old.
Grateful once again for having a horse that was trained to ground tie, I dismounted quickly and started pulling branches away from the driver’s-side door. One of the larger limbs had gone partly through the open window, jamming the door shut. Dusty’s blond curls were barely visible through the tangled foliage.
“Oh my God! Dusty, are you okay?”
“I guess I’ve been in tighter spots,” he said with a weak chuckle. “But I can’t remember when that might have been.”
“Stop trying to be funny,” I snapped. “Are you hurt?”
“Not really,” he said. “Although I am sort of…stuck.”
“Stuck? Why didn’t you back the truck out of there? How the hell did you end up in there, anyway?” I was just scared enough to be angry with him for getting into such a fix to begin with.
“I can’t back it up because the front end is hung up on a tree stump or something.” Wincing, he shifted his weight in the seat. “I sort of lost control of the truck.”
“And why was that?” I pulled more branches out of the way, but I couldn’t budge the one that had the door jammed.
“Well, you see, there was this rattlesnake, and I got kinda…nervous.”
“Holy shit,” I exclaimed. “Is it still in there with you?”
“Uh, yes, it is,” he replied. “Which is another reason why I can’t move.”
“Where is it?” Just then, I heard it, rattling ominously from inside the truck cab. Apache heard it too. Although he backed off a few steps, thankfully he didn’t go any farther.
“I’ve got it pinned under my cast,” Dusty said. “I’m afraid if I move, it’ll get my other leg. It’s already struck at my boot five or six times. It’s really pissed, if you know what I mean.”
“Yes, I do,” I replied. “Why didn’t you just shoot the damn thing?” I knew for a fact that truck never went out without a rifle in the rack, and there was always a pistol in the glove compartment.
“Tried that. It’s kinda hard to get a gun out of a rack when you’re trying to keep your foot on a rattlesnake. I, um, dropped it down behind the seat. Can’t reach the glove compartment, and even if I could, there’s another branch jammed in through that window.”
Peering past him, I saw that the passenger door was also wedged shut by the trunk of a large tree. I couldn’t have gotten the door open to get the pistol, nor could I get to the rifle behind the seat with Dusty sitting in it. “Well, shit. I don’t suppose you’ve got a chain saw handy, have you?”
“In the back of the truck,” he replied. “The chain is really dull, though. I was bringing it back to the shed to sharpen it.”
“If it works at all, it’ll be better than nothing.” I had to pull even more branches out of the truck bed to find it. The gas tank was full; however, I’d never been much good at starting anything with a two-stroke engine. As a result, I was panting and nearly spent before the engine finally roared to life.
The dull chain seemed to take forever to cut through a relatively small piece of wood, but at last I managed to cut through it and pulled it out of the way before cautiously opening the door.
My first reaction was to scream when I saw how big the snake was—one of the largest rattlers I’d ever seen up close—and I’d seen plenty over the years.
“Boy, Dusty, when you decide to get trapped with a snake, you really pick a monster, don’t you?”
“Only the best will do,” he replied with a halfhearted grin. “Do you think you could grab its tail and throw it if I raise my foot?”
“I doubt I could throw it far enough to keep it from biting me, or fast enough to keep it from biting you,” I replied. “I don’t think we can count on it to slither out of the truck without sinking those fangs into something if you let it loose. We’re going to have to kill it to get you out of there.”
“And just how do you propose we do that?” he asked. “Cut its head off with the chain saw?”
Considering how long it had taken me to cut through that tree limb, I had my doubts. “I suppose I could try—although I don’t think I could do that without hurting you.”
“I was kidding, Angela,” he growled. “I’ve got a good hold on it for now, but it’s hard to tell how long I can keep it up. It’s pretty strong.”
“I’ll bet it is.” From what I could see of it, the snake was huge. Its body was almost as thick as a motorcycle tire and it had a head bigger than a man’s fist. “Let me check the back of the truck again. I might find something I can use. Hang on.”
“I’ll be right here,” he said grimly.
I climbed back into the truck bed, hoping to find a hatchet or some other sharp object. Unfortunately, beyond a mattock, which I would have no room to swing, there wasn’t much. Only an empty gas can, several metal fence posts, and a tangled roll of rusty wire.
“Hey, what about the fence posts?” Dusty asked. “Do you think you could pin the snake down with one of them long enough for me to get out?”
“I could try,” I replied. “You’d have to move pretty fast, though. If that snake gets to twisting around, I don’t know if I could hold it for long.”
“I’ll be the fastest man with a cast on his leg you ever saw,” he assured me. “Now we just have to figure out the best way to do it.”
I examined the fence posts with a somewhat skeptical eye. That snake was much thicker than the posts, and I wasn’t sure I could exert enough force to keep it from wiggling out from under the end of one of them. A smaller snake would have been no problem, but this was one great-great-granddaddy of a rattler. However, no better ideas came to mind, so I pitched one of the posts off the truck and climbed down after it.
Aiming the blunt end of the post toward the floorboard, I worked it gingerly around Dusty’s leg. Unfortunately, I couldn’t pin the snake down because every time I moved, it struck and I missed. In addition to being quite heavy, the post was difficult to maneuver, and I was already pretty tired from fighting with the chain saw.
“It’s no use, Dusty,” I panted, looking up at his sweat-streaked face. “I don’t think this is going to work. The post is too long for me to get the right angle.”
“Well, dammit, what else can we do?”
“I could ride for help, but—” I paused as I gazed past him to the rear window and smiled. “I’ve got an idea.” Climbing up on the running board, I reached past him to unfasten the window. I had to put my hand on his shoulder, and when I leaned over, his face was right up against my chest.
Dusty sighed, wrapping an arm around me for support. “I’ve always wanted to be in a position where your tits were in my face. Can’t say this is how I’d envisioned it, though.”
“Better enjoy it while you can, sweetheart, because I’ll only be here for a second,” I said as I fumbled with the latch. “Just don’t bite me.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t. But if I’m gonna die from a rattlesnake bite, I want my last moments on earth to be good ones.”
I finally got the latch undone and slid the two sides of the window open, giggling as another thought occurred to me. “Guess I should have taken my shirt off first, huh?”
“That would have been a nice touch.” He rubbed his face against my breasts like a cat seeking a caress. “Remind me to suggest that the next time I get trapped with a rattler.”
“There’d better not be a next time.”
I backed out of the door, pausing along the way to give Dusty a big, juicy kiss. “For luck,” I said and climbed back into the truck bed. Choosing another post, I inserted it through the open window and aimed between Dusty’s knees for the snake. However, as before, I couldn’t pin it down. Every time I thought I had it, the scaly hide slid over its rounded backbones. I simply couldn’t get a firm enough hold on it to give Dusty time to escape.
Finally, I felt something catch on the end of the post.
“Have you got it?”
“Maybe.” I sort of had it pinned, but I wasn’t sure I’d be able to hold it when he moved his foot.
“Maybe?” he exclaimed. “I want better than maybe, if you don’t mind.”
“Right now, maybe is the best I can do. The damn thing keeps striking at the post, and—shit. It got away again.” Then I gasped as another thought occurred to me. “Hold on. I’ve got a better idea.”
I pulled the post back out through the window and reversed it, aiming the pointed end at the snake. “Come on baby, bite me,” I murmured. “Bite me. Hard.”
“I thought you said not to bite you.” Dusty sounded somewhat bewildered.
I was beginning to wonder if he hadn’t hit his head when he wrecked the truck. Then again, in his predicament, I probably wouldn’t have been very coherent myself.
“I wasn’t talking to you, Dusty. I was talking to the snake.” I teased its mouth with the end of the post. “Come on, baby, open wide. This won’t hurt a bit.” I held my breath as the snake struck, then rammed the spear-shaped end down its throat as hard as I could, pinning it to the floorboard. “Okay, Dusty!” I shouted. “Go!”
The rattler went wild as soon as Dusty moved his foot, and it took a considerable amount of force to hold it down, even with the degree of leverage I had on it. It twisted and writhed, flipping its rattle like a mace as Dusty wiggled out from under the post and fell out the door, landing smack-dab on his cute little keister.
“Get out of the way,” I yelled. “I can’t hold it much longer.”
Dusty scrambled away from the truck and managed to get to his feet with the aid of a low-hanging tree limb. “Let me get the horse, and then you can let that thing loose.” He limped over to where a very apprehensive Apache was standing and gathered up the reins. The fact that the gelding hadn’t bolted long ago said a lot for his training. I guess we had Rufus to thank for that. The man was one hell of a horse trainer, even if he was kinda weird.
I released my hold on the post and the snake fell out, landing in about the same spot Dusty had. At first I was afraid it might decide to stay and fight, but apparently it’d had enough for one day. After one last hiss in parting, it slithered off into the thicket.
As I stood gaping at the spot where the snake had disappeared, the horror of the situation finally got to me, giving me a bad case of the shakes. Faint and nauseated, I collapsed on the truck cab, breathing hard.
Dusty led the reluctant horse over to the thicket and reached up a hand to help me down. “Come on, Angela. It’s gone now. Let’s go home. We can come back later for the truck. It’s gonna take more than the two of us and a dull chain saw to get it out of there, anyway.”
As he stood there, gazing up at me with those big, blue eyes, I burst into tears. “That’s twice I’ve had to watch you almost get killed, Dusty. This has got to stop! I can’t take any more.”
“Hey now. I’m not dead. I’m not even hurt except for the seat of my pants.” His voice was gentle as the breeze ruffled his curls. “It’s a long way back to the house, so you need to get going. You can drive back up here and get me. I’ll be fine.”
I blew out a breath. “You’re right. No need to get all mushy on you, is there?”
He shook his head. “Not unless you really want to.”
Oh, I wanted to, all right. Unfortunately, I knew I shouldn’t.
Story of my whole fucking life.
Lately, I’d been giving in to too many impulses that were causing trouble for everyone concerned. I had only myself to blame for most of it. Still, every now and then, I wanted to be able to do whatever I felt like doing without having to think it to death first. Especially in a situation such as this where my first impulse was to grab Dusty and kiss his lips off. Not like the playful kiss for luck I’d given him earlier to break the tension, and not so much because I loved him, but because I was so very, very glad he was alive and unhurt.
I didn’t, of course. Dusty gave me a leg up on Apache, and I rode back to the house alone, trying to figure out how the hell a rattlesnake that size had ever managed to get into that truck.