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He was pawing up more dirt, lunging his horn in as if to rip out the guts of the earth.
Melanie turned away from the sight, trembling.
"Terrance, I'm going to shoot the longhorn," Shane said, holding his rifle steady. "But it would be best if you could move your horse away from the steer. He's going to make a mighty lunge when the bullet sinks into his flesh. Once he's shot, be ready to burn leather and get the hell out of there."
"I don't need instructions, Shane," Terrance
said, sweat streaming from his brow. "Just do it, damn it!"
"I can't shoot him until you move your horse away," Shane said, his teeth clenching angrily. "You'll be signing your own death warrant if you don't do as I say."
"Who taught you so much about longhorn habits?" Terrance said, his contempt for Shane showing even in the eye of danger.
Melanie swung around and glared at Terrance. "Terrance, for once can't you put your feelings for Shane aside?" she said, her voice quavering. She circled her hands into tight fists at her sides. "Do as he says. Your life is at stake here!"
Terrance eyed the longhorn warily. His spine stiffened when he saw the animal's horns all shining and sharp. He knew that bulls kept their horns sharpened for bloody work by rubbing them against trees and brush, and whetting them in the ground. Wild Thunder was muttering and pawing, all pluck and vinegar, ready for a fight.
"I'm afraid to move," Terrance said in a whine. "Damn it, I don't think I have a chance in hell of escaping that damn bull's wrath."
"No, you don't if you don't move farther away from him," Shane said, impatience thick in his voice.
"All right, damn it," Terrance said, his hands trembling as he flicked the reins and nudged his heels into the flanks of his horse.
But he was too slow. The brute wheeled to attack. Before Shane had the chance to fire his
rifle, Terrance's horse was met full in the side by the bull's horns.
Her throat too frozen in-fear to scream, Melanie felt faint as she watched in mortal terror as both horse and rider were lifted for one instant into the air, and then came down in a heap together. The horse was dead, one horn completely through its body, the other caught in the bones of the chest. One of Terrance's legs was between the horns of the bull, pinned fast between his head and the body of the horse.
The horse's body was impaled on the bull's head, fastening it to the ground. Terrance lay on the bull's back.
Pain shooting through his pinned leg, Terrance began to flail his arms wildly in the air, crying and yelling as he struggled to get free. He gazed at the bull. It was breathing hard and frothing at the mouth. Terrance could feel its mighty heartbeat against his body, just waiting for it to begin a hard struggle to be set free. At the moment, it seemed to be stunned by the predicament it had gotten itself in.
Shane stepped slowly toward the twisted mass of horse, longhorn, and man. He was afraid to shoot the bull, lest the longhorn's struggles further injure Terrance.
Instead, he lay his gun on the ground and took his knife from the sheath at his waist. He crept up to the steer and with lightning speed he opened the bull's jugular vein and waited for him to slowly bleed to death.
He then cut off the bull's horns. His muscles cording and straining, he finally managed to pull the bull off Terrance. He lifted Terrance in his arms and carried him toward Melanie, then lay him on the ground beneath the shade of an oak tree.
Melanie fell to her knees beside Terrance. She cradled his head on her lap, feeling a bitterness rising into her throat when she saw the condition of his leg. It was crushed. Splinters of bone protruded through his pants, revealing bloody, mangled flesh. "Terrance, Terrance," she cried, tears flooding her eyes.
"At least he's alive," Shane said, kneeling down beside her.
"Thank you for saving him," Melanie said, sniffling back more tears. "It would have been so easy for you to have ignored him. He's been nothing but a thorn in your side since you returned home."
"Well, perhaps some, but he's done nothing all that terrible that would make me want to see harm come to him," Shane said, wiping the longhorn's blood from his knife onto the grass at his side.
Melanie's eyes wavered, knowing more than Shane did about her brother's ugly activities. She looked down at her brother, who had drifted into unconsciousness, the pain surely having rendered him almost mindless.
She stroked his brow. How could she hate him at a time like this? She had almost lost him! She felt partially responsible, for she had driven him away! She should have been more understanding!
If she had been, perhaps this would have not happened to him! Now he was surely going to be a cripple for the rest of his life. And all because of her!
Terrance's eyes blinked slowly open. He grimaced with pain, his face flushed. He looked from Melanie to Shane. "Thanks," he said, then laughed awkwardly. "But I sure as hell wish you could've thought of a better way to rid my life of that damn longhorn. My leg hurts like hell."
"We're going to get you to a doctor," Shane said. "I'm going to make a travois for transporting you." He started to rise, but was stopped when Terrance placed a hand to his arm.
"Shane, I owe you my life," Terrance said, blinking back tears. "Thanks. Thanks for everything."
