Page 50 of Cloaked in Beauty

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“Rusty!”

Letty’s anguished cry ripped through Philip like a barbed-wire lash. The same lash he wanted to use to flay the satisfied smirk from the face of the man who’d punted Rusty off the bridge. Philip recognized his type. Trainers who turned dogs into killers with a steady regimen of cruelty, then profited from the pain their animals inflicted upon others through gambling and extortion.

Yet as Philip leapt back into the saddle and raced for the opposite end of the bridge, it wasn’t justice that spurred him. It was Letty. He’d made her a promise, and God help him, he intended to keep it.

Thankfully, by the time he reached her side, Letty had ceased staring at the hole in the trestle where Rusty disappeared and had turned Shadow for the shoreline. Leaving the bridge and any danger the stranger might pose behind, the two raced down the embankment, scouring the water below for any sign of a red wolf.

“Rusty!” Letty shouted her pet’s name and pointed to a dark splotch bobbing in the water about fifteen yards from shore.

The old rust monger had good survival instincts. He paddled for the shore as best he could, but the river’s current dragged against him, making his progress slow. Rusty’s head dipped beneath the water, and Philip’s jaw clamped with painful force. He urged Steele to greater speed, scanning the shoreline ahead, searching for anything that could give them an advantage. Rusty would fight as long as he could, but not even a wolf could match a river’s strength.

The sloping bank along the river’s edge steepened as the woods encroached upon the waterway. For a heartbeat, Philip considered taking Steele down to the water’s edge, but the sand would slow the horse’s pace, and hidden rocks could lame the steed if he stepped wrong. So he stayed on his current path and prayed for a sign.

What he got was a fallen log. Thankfully, his horse was paying attention to the terrain in front of them while Philip’s focus was divided between land and water. By the time Philip spotted the log, he had just enough time to rise in the stirrups as Steele made the leap. When Steele’s hooves returned to earth and Philip’s seat returned to the saddle, inspiration struck. A short distance ahead lay another fallen tree. One that had been uprooted at the edge of the riverbank and now jutted a good six feet into the water. If he could get to the log ahead of Rusty, and if the wolf could swim within reach, they might have a chance.

Philip leaned low over Steele’s neck. “Go, boy. Go!”

The gray surged forward, his pace as reckless as Philip’s plan. When they reached the fallen tree’s location, Philip reined Steele to a halt and jumped from the saddle. He dove down the embankment, slipping on the steep slope and eroded soil until he reached the exposed root system and used it to steady himself. He maneuvered atop the log and found his footing. Not taking the time to dwell on the narrowness of the fallen pine, Philip trotted down the log’s surface, arms outstretched for balance.

He slowed his pace once he reached the water’s edge. Broken branch points jabbed up from the log, making foot placement more difficult. Not to mention the slickness of the water lapping over the surface of the wood. Needing all of his concentration to navigate the log, he didn’t lift his gaze to search for Rusty until he heard Letty’s distant call.

“He’s coming, Philip!”

Glancing upstream, he spotted the bedraggled canine, head barely above the water. Philip curled his tongue and let out a shrill whistle. Then he cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted at full volume.

“Rusty! Here, boy. Here!”

The wolf’s head turned. Philip waved his hands above his head, hoping to give the animal a target.

“Here, boy!”

Please, God, bring him close enough for me to grab.

They’d have one chance, a fact Rusty seemed to comprehend, for he came to life in the water, swimming with renewed vigor and making some progress in angling himself toward the fallen tree.

Philip gauged Rusty’s position and headed farther down the log. The wood creaked under his weight, bringing him up short. Carefully, he lowered himself down to all fours, gripping the log with his hands until he found a place smooth enough for him to straddle it with his legs. Frigid water rushed over his knees and into his boots as his legs disappeared beneath the surface. Gripping the log with his thighs like he would a horse, he glued his gaze to the dark shape rushing toward him.

He tightened his legs. Limbered his fingers. Calculated the trajectory.

Too shallow. Rusty was going to miss the target.

With no time to consider the consequences, Philip loosened his grip on the tree and lunged sideways, grabbing for Rusty with his left hand while scrabbling to hook his right arm over the log to keep himself from being swept away.

Something sharp scraped his bicep as he plunged up to his chest in the water, but he ignored the pain as he grabbed for Rusty. His hand met fur and triumph soared through him. Until the fur began to slip through his fingers. He fumbled for purchase. The tree’s branches slowed Rusty’s escape, but Philip could feel the river pulling the wolf out of reach. Desperate, he made a grab for one of Rusty’s legs, but something else brushed against the back of his hand. Something corded. The leash!

Philip snatched the rope, wound it twice around his hand, then strained with all his might to reel in the wolf on the other end. A groan tore from his throat as he arm-wrestled the river, the rope biting into his hand.

Little by little, his arm curled toward his body. Rusty inched closer. Close enough to tangle his legs in the log’s dead branches and free himself from the stronger currents. Philip followed the line of the leash down the tree, winding the slack around his hand as he neared Rusty’s side.

Holding on to the log with his right arm, he stretched his left over the top of the branch that separated him from Letty’s wolf.

“I’ve got you, boy.” Philip panted the words, his muscles rapidly turning to jelly.

Rusty whimpered, his nails scraping against the tree as he tried unsuccessfully to scramble to safety.

“Easy, now. I’ll get you.”