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“Maybe you should listen to my side of the story.”
“And maybe you should go straight to hell.” She swung onto the mare’s dusty back.
His eyes were dark with old hidden demons. “I’ve already been there and back.” He stepped forward as she jerked on the reins and dug her heels into the mare’s sides. “Bliss—”
“Hi-ya!”
Fire Cracker took off in a thunder of hooves and over the noise Bliss thought she heard Mason call after her. Damn it, woman, I love you. The words toyed with her mind, but she shoved them aside and told herself she hadn’t heard anything but the voice of the wind.
Mason experienced a sense of déjà vu as he watched her race away. The mare galloped through the twilight-dark fields and he felt every muscle in his body grow tense. Though it was a hot, sticky night, with only a few clouds drifting over the glittering stars, he was reminded of another time, in this very spot, when heavy raindrops had veiled his vision and Bliss had ridden, hell-bent for leather, into the heart of a lightning storm.
This time was different.
Or was it?
A deep, frightening dread inched up his spine and though he told himself he was every kind of fool, that he didn’t believe in fate or premonitions or anything remotely touching predestination, he couldn’t shake the feeling.
He’d come here to give the old man his deed back, and that accomplished, he should just leave, but instead of his footsteps taking him to his truck, he half ran to the tack room, snagged a saddle, blanket and bridle and found Lucifer grazing in a nearby field. With a sharp whistle, he gained the stallion’s attention and within minutes he was astride the blue-eyed pinto, chasing after Bliss and feeling his fear mount with each of the animal’s swift strides.
“Come on, come on,” he urged Lucifer as he silently cursed himself for not watching which of the old cattle trails that webbed over the base of the hills she’d taken. He rode by instinct, sweating beneath his shirt, his eyes narrowed on the terrain ahead.
At the base of the hills, he guided Lucifer upward, heading along one of the dusty paths, hoping to catch a glimpse of Bliss or her dogged little horse. He stopped twice, listening for the sound of hoofbeats and hearing nothing but a train rumbling on distant tracks.
“She’ll be all right,” he told himself. “She’s got to be. Come on, you miserable piece of horseflesh. Run!”
Beneath branches, through swarms of insects, around stumps and boulders, the game horse ran. Across patches of moonlight and past a creek with a tumbling waterfall that sprayed a soft mist, he rode until at last the trees gave way to the ridge.
His heart stopped. He saw her silhouette, darker than the surrounding hills, astride Fire Cracker and riding wildly past the very tree struck by lightning ten years before. The old trunk was leafless and dead, the core burned black by the decade-old bolt from the sky.
“Slow down!” Mason yelled. “Bliss!”
She twisted in the saddle, her hair fanning around her.
“I love you!”
She froze, but the horse kept moving.
“Bliss—”
She gathered the reins back, slowing the mare while rocking.
“Move,” he yelled at his mount. “Come on!” He remembered the last time, how she’d nearly died. Because of him. Again! “Oh, sweet Jesus!” He kicked his horse forward. Bliss toppled. She screamed. Thud! She hit the ground with bone-cracking certainty.
Mason vaulted off his horse. “No, oh, God, no!” He reached her in an instant, dragged her crumpled body to his. “Bliss, Bliss, oh, love,” he whispered, holding her and praying to a God he’d had no words with in years that she was all right. He couldn’t have hurt her again, couldn’t have been the cause of any more pain. But a bruise and scrape marred the perfect skin near her temple and she sagged limply, as if there was no life left in her.
“I love you,” he said and felt tears clog his throat. “Please, sweetheart, don’t…” He couldn’t lose her. Wouldn’t! She was breathing shallowly, but her eyes fluttered open for an instant and a faint smile touched her lips.
“Mason,” she mouthed.
“Hang in there, baby, I’ll take care of you.”
“I…I know…” Then she drifted off again and he felt the cold mind-numbing fear that she might be lost to him forever. He whistled to his horse, rose to his feet and carried her gently. She wasn’t going to die on him, nor was she going to leave him.
It had been ten years and he wasn’t going to wait any longer. This w
oman was the only woman he’d ever loved, the only one who could touch his heart. Somehow, someway, he was going to save her.
* * *
