Sunrise Crossing (25 page)

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

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Y
ANCY
STEPPED
OUT
of the cool, fall night and into his workshop. As always, he tapped the board above the door.
Missed you. Love, Rabbit.

“I love you, too,” he whispered, wishing she could hear him.

Everyone in the world seemed to have paired off but him.

Clint and Parker had married in July, and no one had seen them since. Word was they were on his ranch. She'd turned over the day-to-day running of her gallery to her assistant, Minnie. Word was that Minnie had turned out to be more of a general than Parker.

Even Fifth bought a ring, and had shown it to everyone in the county offices, but he said he wasn't proposing to Madison O'Grady until they got to New York City. He'd laughed and said there was only one place for him to get down on one knee and pop the question.

When Yancy asked where, the deputy had said, “Fifth and Madison, of course.”

Rumor was, the whole O'Grady family was adding money to a pot to buy them tickets. Last Yancy had heard, Pearly and the Franklin sisters were planning the shower.

Yancy was alone, but he wouldn't complain. He had a dad who called him once a week. Gabe had turned out to be a cool guy, and once he'd got out of the hospital, he'd taken up his real name again and started traveling. Gabe hadn't said he was looking for Jewel Ann, but Yancy had gypsy blood. He could feel things and he knew that was exactly what Gabe was doing.

Every few weeks Yancy got a present from some place he'd never visited and the note with it always said the same thing:
I'll be home for Christmas, son.

So, Yancy worked every night, hoping to have the old gypsy house complete before his dad came home. It'd be different this year. He'd have a tree, maybe put some lights on the house. Invite friends over.

Yancy grinned. His heart might ache for Tori, but he was a rich man.

Just then, something shifted in the loft above and he looked up. Tori, dressed in jeans and her paint-spotted plaid shirt, appeared above him. “You need some help?” she said, smiling.

“I do.” He couldn't stop staring at her. She was so beautiful.

Then, without hesitation, Rabbit jumped.

And Yancy caught her in midflight.

* * * * *

Keep reading for an excerpt from
WILD HORSE SPRINGS
by Jodi Thomas.

“
Compelling and beautifully written, it is exactly the kind of heart-wrenching, emotional story one has come to expect from Jodi Thomas.”
—Debbie Macomber, #1
New York Times
bestselling author

New York Times
bestselling author Jodi Thomas has captivated readers around the world with her sweeping, heartfelt family sagas.

Don't miss any of the titles in Jodi's compelling and emotionally resonant
Ransom Canyon
series set in a remote West Texas town where family bonds are made and broken, and where young love sparks as old flames grow dim. Ransom Canyon is ready to welcome—and shelter—those who need it.

Wild Horse Springs
Sunrise Crossing
Lone Heart Pass
Rustler's Moon
Ransom Canyon
Winter's Camp
(ebook novella)

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“Once I started [Ransom Canyon], I quickly found myself unable to put down this book.”
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Wild Horse Springs

by Jodi Thomas

CODY'S CHAPTER

C
ODY
W
INSLOW
THUNDERED
through the night on a half-wild horse that loved to run. The moon followed them, dancing along the edge of the canyon as they darted over winter buffalo grass stiff with frost.

The former Texas Ranger watched the dark outline of the earth where the land cracked open wide enough for a river to run
at its base.

The canyon's edge seemed to snake closer, as if it were moving, crawling over the flat plains, daring Cody to challenge death. One missed step might take him and the horse over the edge and into the black hole. They'd tumble maybe a hundred feet down, barreling over jagged rocks and frozen juniper branches as sharp as spears. No horse or man would survive.

Only tonight Cody wasn't worried. He needed to ride, to run, to feel adrenaline pumping in his veins, to know he was alive. He rode hoping to outrun his dark mood. The demons that were always in his mind were chasing him tonight. Daring him. Betting him to take one more risk...the one that would finally kill him.

“Run,” he shouted to the midnight mare. Nothing would catch him here. Not on his land. Not over land his ancestors had hunted on for thousands of years. Fought over. Died for and bled into. Apache blood, settler blood, Comanchero blood mixed in him as it did in this part of Texas. His family tree was a tumbleweed of every kind of tribe who ever crossed the plains.

If the horse fell and they went to their deaths, no one would find them for days in this far corner of his ranch. Even the canyon that snaked off the great Palo Duro had no name here. It wasn't beautiful like Ransom Canyon, with layers of earth revealed in a rainbow of colors. Here the rocks were jagged, shooting out of the canyon walls from twenty feet in some places like thin shelves.

The petrified wood formations along the floor of the canyon reminded Cody of snipers waiting, almost unseen, but deadly. Cody felt numb, already dead inside, as he raced across a place with no name on a horse he called Midnight.

The horse's hooves tapped suddenly over a low place where water ran off the flat land and into the canyon. Frozen now. Silent. Deadly. Black ice. For a moment the tapping matched Cody's heartbeat then both horse and rider seemed to realize the danger at once.

Cody leaned back, pulling the reins, hoping to stop the animal in time, but the horse reared in panic, dancing on his hind legs for a moment before twisting violently and bucking Cody off.

As Cody flew through the night air, he almost smiled. The battle he'd been fighting since he was shot and left for dead on the border one night three years ago was about to end here on his own land. The legends of all the ancestors who came before him whispered in the wind as if calling him.

When he hit the frozen ground so hard it knocked the air from his lungs, he knew death wouldn't come easy tonight. Though he'd welcome the silence, Cody knew he'd fight to the end. He came from generations of fighters. He was the last of his line and here in the dark he'd make his stand too far away to call for help. He was too stubborn to ask for it anyway.

As he fought to breathe, his body slid over a tiny river of frozen rain into the black canyon.

He twisted, struggling to stop, but all he managed to do was tumble down. Branches whipped against him and rocks punched him with the force of a prize fighter's blow. And still he rolled. Over and over. Ice on his skin, warm blood dripping into his eyes. He tried bracing for the hits that came when he landed for a moment before his body rolled again. He grabbed for a rock or a branch to hold on to, but his leather gloves couldn't get a grip on the ice.

He wasn't sure if he managed to relax or pass out, but when he landed on a flat rock near the bottom of the canyon, total blackness surrounded him and the few stars above offered no light. For a while he lay still, aware that he was still breathing. A good sign. He hurt all over. More proof he was alive.

He'd been near death before. He knew that sometimes the body turned off the pain. Slowly he began to take inventory. There were parts that hurt like hell. Others he couldn't feel at all.

Cody swore as loud as he could and smiled. At least he had his voice. Not that anyone would hear him in the canyon. Maybe his brain was mush; he obviously had a head wound. The blood kept dripping into his eyes. His left leg throbbed with each heartbeat and he couldn't draw a deep breath.

He tried to move and pain skyrocketed, making him have to concentrate to stop shaking. Fire shot up his leg and flowed straight to his heart. Cody took shallow breaths and tried to reason. He had to control his breathing. He had to stay awake or he'd freeze. He had to keep fighting. Survival was bone and blood to his nature.

The memory of his night in the mud near the Rio Grande came back as if it had only been a day, not three years. He'd been bleeding then, hurt, alone. Three Rangers had stood on the bank at dusk. He'd seen the other two crumble when bullets fell like rain.

Only it had been hot that night, and so silent after all the gunfire. He'd known every Ranger in the area would be looking for him at first light; he'd known he'd have to make it to dawn first. Stay alive. They'd find him.

But not this time.

No one would look for him tonight or tomorrow. No one would even notice he was gone. He'd made sure of that. He'd left all his friends back in Austin after the shooting. He'd broken up with his girlfriend who'd said she couldn't deal with hospitals. When he came back to his family's land, he didn't bother to call any of his old friends. He'd grown accustomed to the solitude. He'd needed it to heal not just the wounds outside, but the ones deep inside.

Cody swore again.

The pain won out for a moment and his mind drifted. At the corners of his consciousness, he knew he needed to move, stop the bleeding, try not to freeze, but he'd become an expert at drifting that night on the border. Even when a rifle had poked into his chest as one of the drug runners tested to see if he was alive, Cody hadn't reacted.

If he had, another bullet would have gone in his body already riddled with lead.

Cody recited the words he'd once had to scrub off the walls in grade school. Mrs. Presley had kept repeating as he worked,
Cody Winslow, you'll die cussing if you don't learn better.

Turned out she might be right. Even with his eyes almost closed, the stars seemed to be growing brighter and circling around him like drunk fireflies. If this was death's door, he planned to go through yelling.

The stars were drawing closer. Their light bounced off the black canyon walls as if they were sparks of echoes.

He stopped swearing as the lights began to talk.

“He's dead,” one high, bossy voice said. “Look how shiny the blood is.”

A squeaky sound added, “I'm going to throw up.”

“No, he's not dead,” another argued. “His hand is twitching and if you throw up, Marjorie Martin, I'll tell Miss Wright.”

All at once the lights were bouncing around him, high voices all talking at once.

“Yes, he is dead.”

“Stop saying that.”

“You stop saying anything.”

“I'm going to throw up.”

Cody opened his eyes. The lights were circling around him like a war party.

“See, I told you so.”

One beam of light came closer, blinding him for a moment, and he blinked.

“He's hurt. I can see blood bubbling out of him in several spots.” The bossy voice added, “Don't touch it, Marjorie.”

The gang of lights streamed along his body as if trying to torture him or drive him mad as the world kept changing from black to bright. It occurred to him that maybe he was being abducted by aliens, but he doubted the beings coming to conquer the world would land here in West Texas or that they'd sound like little girls.

“Hell,” he said and to his surprise the shadows all jumped back.

After a few seconds he made out the outline of what might be a little girl, or maybe a short ET.

“You shouldn't cuss, mister. We heard you way back in the canyon yelling out words I've seen written but never knew how they were pronounced.”

“Glad I could help with your education, kid. Any chance you have a cell phone or a leader?”

“We're not allowed to carry cell phones. It interferes with our communicating with nature.” She shined her flashlight in his eyes. “Don't call me kid. My name is Melanie Miller and I could read before I started kindergarten.”

Cody mumbled a few words, deciding he was in hell already and—who knew?—all the names there started with
M
.

All of a sudden the lights went jittery again and every one of the six little girls seemed to be talking at once.

One thought he was too bloody to live. One suggested they should cover him with their coats. Another voted for undressing him. Two said they would never touch blood. One wanted to put a tourniquet about his neck.

Cody was starting to hope death might come faster when another shadow carrying a lantern moved into the mix. “Move back, girls. This man is hurt.”

He couldn't see more than an outline but the new arrival was definitely not a little girl. Closing his eyes and ignoring the little girls' constant questions, he listened as a calm voice used her cell to call for help. She had the location down to latitude and longitude and described a van parked in an open field about a hundred yards from her location where they could land a helicopter. When she hung up, she knelt at his side and shifted a backpack off her shoulder.

As she began to check his injuries, her voice calmly gave instructions. “Go back to the van, girls. Two at a time take turns flashing your lights at the sky toward the North Star. The rest of you get under the blankets and stay warm. When you hear the copter arrive and voices, you can watch from the windows, but stay in the van. McKenna, you're in charge. I'll be back as soon as they come.”

Another
M
, Cody thought but didn't bother to ask about.

To his surprise the gang of ponytails marched off like tiny little soldiers.

“How'd you find me?” Cody asked the first of a dozen questions bouncing around in his aching head as the woman laid out supplies from her pack.

“Your cussing was probably bouncing off the canyon wall for twenty miles.” Her hands moved along his body, not in a caress, but to a man who hadn't felt a woman's touch in years, it wasn't far from it.

“Want to give me your name? Know what day it is? What year? Where you are?”

“I don't have brain damage,” he snapped then regretted moving his head. “My name's Winslow. I don't care what day it is or what year for that matter.” He couldn't make out her face. “I'm on my own land. Or at least I was when my horse threw me.”

She might have been pretty if she wasn't glaring at him. The lantern light offered that flashlight-to-the-chin kind of glow about it.

“Where does it hurt?” She kept her voice low, but she didn't sound friendly. “As soon as I pass you to the medics, I'll start looking for your horse. The animal might be out here too, hurting or dead. Did he fall with you?”

Great! His Good Samaritan was worried more about the horse than him. “I don't know. I don't think so. When I fell off the edge of the canyon, Midnight was still standing.” He took a breath as the woman moved to his legs. “I tumbled for what seemed like miles. It hurts all over.”

“How?”

“The horse got spooked when we hit a patch of ice,” he snapped, tired of talking, needing all his strength to handle the pain.

She brushed over his left leg and he tried to keep from screaming. He fought her touch, knowing he couldn't take much more without passing out.

“Easy,” she whispered as her hands cupped his face. “Easy, cowboy. You've got a bad break. I have to do what I can to stabilize you. They'll be here soon. You've got to let me wrap a few of these wounds so you don't bleed out waiting.”

He nodded once, knowing she was right.

In the glow of a lantern she worked, carefully wrapping his leg, then his head wound.

Her voice finally came, low, sexy maybe if it were a different time, a different place. “It looks bad, but I don't see any brains dripping out.”

He didn't know if she was trying to be funny or just stating a fact. He didn't bother to laugh. She put a bandage on the gash along his throat. It wasn't deep, but it still dripped blood.

As she wrapped the bandage her breasts brushed against his cheek, distracting him. If this was her idea of doctoring a patient with no painkillers, it was working. For a few seconds there, he forgot about the pain.

“I don't have water to clean the wounds, but the dressing should keep anything else from getting in.”

Cody began to calm. The pain was still there, but the demons in the corners of his mind were silent. Watching her move in the shadows relaxed him.

“Cody,” he finally said. “My first name is Cody.”

She smiled then for just a second.

“You a nurse?” he asked.

“No. I'm a park ranger. If you've no objection I'd like to examine your chest.”

Cody closed his eyes and she unzipped his coat. “I used to be a Ranger, but I never stepped foot in a park.” He could feel her unbuttoning his shirt. Her hand moved in, feeling across his ribs.

When he gasped for air, she hesitated, then whispered, “One broken rib.” A moment later she added, “Two.”

He forced long slow breaths as he felt the cold night air pressing against his bare chest. Her hand moved over his bruised skin, stopping at the scars he'd collected one night at the Rio Grande.

She lifted the light. “Bullet holes?” she questioned more to herself than him. “You've been hurt bad before.”

“Yeah,” he said as he took back control of his mind.