Page 5 of If the Boot Fits

But the rope was old. Weatherworn.

“Stop, Clint! It’s not safe!”

He paid her no heed. Using the rungs nailed to the trunk, he scampered up the tree like a squirrel, snatched the rope, and vaulted off the end of the platform.

Wood cracked. Rope fell. Water splashed. And Clint disappeared beneath the murky green surface.

3

Heart pounding, muscles straining, Asher stretched his legs to their limit as he rounded the far side of the pond. He stole a glance over his shoulder to see if that kid was still dogging his trail. No sign of him. Good. He had enough guilt riding his conscience already. Didn’t need to add scuffling with a kid half his age to the mix.

His lungs burned as he fought against slowing his pace. If Dearing’s men got him in their sights, bullets were sure to fly, and he really preferred his hide without holes. Unable to afford a misstep, Asher locked his gaze on the ground before him as he raced through the underbrush.

Just a little farther. Bruno waited on the other side of those trees, saddled and ready. Asher’s cow pony was nimble and as fast as they came. He’d outdistance any pursuit. If Asher could get to him.

Crack!

Asher flinched, and his steps stuttered. A gunshot? He turned just as a loud splash exploded.

“Clint!” The woman’s heartrending scream froze Asher in his tracks.

No man with an ounce of character could ignore such a scream. He pivoted toward the pond and took in the scene.

A woman in a blue dress ran toward the water’s edge. A broken tree limb floated in the middle of the pond. Someone floundered a few feet from it, slapping ineffectually at the water’s surface.

“Help him!”

Not a demand. A plea.

The pampered princess from the study stared at him from across the pond. Dusk and distance hid her features from him, but nothing could hide her fear. Her anguish.

“Please. He can’t swim.” Tears roughened her voice. She didn’t wait for him to respond, though. She waded straight into the pond, dress and all.

It had to be the boy who’d been chasing him. Clint Dearing. Heir to the Three Cedars, the outfit that had cheated Asher’s family out of their home.

Clint Dearing. A boy no older than his brothers. Helpless to save himself.

Heart pumping with shifted purpose, Asher sprinted for the pond, tearing off his jacket as he ran. He paused at the shore long enough to yank his boots from his feet, then waded into the murky water. As soon as it reached his waist, he dove into the depths and stroked with all his might.

If this kid drowned because of him . . .

Please, God, help me reach him in time.

Asher lifted his head for a breath and spotted his target. The splashes were smaller. Sparser. Clint was struggling. Asher turned his face back into the water and kicked harder.

Ten yards. Five yards. Two . . . He lifted his head again. Squinted. The boy should be right in front of him. Nothing. He scanned right and left before turning back to the last place he’d seen him.

“Clint!” The woman screamed her brother’s name, then surprised Asher by shouting amazingly level-headed instructions as she jabbed a finger at him from where she stood knee-deep in pond muck. “Your eleven o’clock. Dive.”

He obeyed, sweeping his arms wide as he descended, praying he’d connect with the boy. Heaven knew he couldn’t see anything, though he opened his eyes anyway, just in case he might distinguish a boyish shadow.

His lungs ached for replenishment, but Asher continued his underwater hunt. Two more sweeps, then he’d come up for air. He stretched his arms in a broad stroke. Nothing. He twisted to his left and tried again. His wrist knocked against something hard.

Praise God!

He grabbed for the shadow, fumbled, then finally grasped what felt like a collar. Holding tightly, he kicked for the surface.

When his head broke through, he gasped for breath, then immediately turned to the limp boy beside him. He flipped him onto his back, making sure his mouth and nose cleared the waterline. Then he positioned himself behind Clint’s head, grabbed his underarm, and swam for the shore. About halfway there, the kid coughed and flailed, his panic returning with his consciousness.