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Now that it was too late, he understood her anger. Kristin had worked for years to earn her medical degree. During the war, and in the veterans’ hospital, she’d performed the work of a man, supervising staff and doing everything a male doctor would do— and she’d had to fight for every scrap of respect. In choosing to override her wishes and deal with Webb as he saw fit, he’d committed what Kristin would see as an unforgivable sin—he’d treated her as a foolish woman, incapable of making any decision without a man’s help.
Such behavior would have been typical of Webb. She would have tolerated it because Webb didn’t matter. But she’d expected better from the man she loved. And he’d let her down.
He could only hope he hadn’t lost her for good.
* * *
The western sky was getting dark, not just the soft blue of twilight, but an angry swirl of black and brown. The streak of dust along the horizon that he’d noticed earlier was blotting out the last rays of the setting sun. Logan could see it moving closer by the minute, picking up more dust as it came. The cloud was becoming a monster dust storm.
And somewhere out there on the road was Kristin.
Surely she’d know enough to take shelter. Except there was no shelter between here and town, only open prairie. Given the time that had passed, she’d be less than halfway home. But even if she were to turn around and come back here, there’d be no way to escape the dust.
The wind was blowing harder, its texture like sandpaper against the skin. The dogs dived under the porch and crawled back against the rock foundation of the house. Mindless of the weakness in his leg, Logan raced toward the barn where his horse was stabled. Kristin had told him not to follow her, but that didn’t matter anymore. She could die out there, alone against the brutal wind.
Logan had experienced dust storms in Texas and had even survived a bad one in the open. To get back to town, Kristin would have to ride into the storm, with the dust blasting her face and her horse’s eyes. The safest plan would be to hunker down with her horse, stay low to the ground, and wait for the dust cloud to pass. But he couldn’t count on her to do that. She could be pushing on, fighting against the wind. Whatever was happening, he had to find her.
Moving fast, he saddled the horse, filled a canteen, and grabbed a blanket and a couple of bandannas from the house. Minutes later he was mounted and flying toward the wagon road.
* * *
Kristin struggled to see the roadside through flying veils of dust. If she were to lose track of that road, even for a few minutes, the horse could wander off, and she would lose all sense of direction. The horse wasn’t cooperating either. She remembered her father pointing out how horses would turn their backs to the wind in a storm. The gelding kept fighting the reins, trying to turn around and go back the other way. Maybe she should let it; but she’d lost track of how far she’d come, and home was where she wanted to go. Surely they would be there soon.
She breathed dust. She tasted dust. The blowing grit stung her eyes. Tears blurred her vision and made muddy streaks down her dirt-coated cheeks. She paused, relaxing the reins for an instant while she cleared them away.
Feeling the slack, the horse reared, wheeled, and bolted off at an angle, away from the wagon road. Kristin was thrown sideways, out of the saddle. For a terrifying moment, her boot caught in the stirrup. She was dragged, twisting and clawing, along the ground before her foot worked its way out of the boot and she fell free.
She sat up and tested her limbs. Aside from a turned ankle and some scrapes, she didn’t appear to be badly hurt. But her boot was on the horse, and she had to get back to the wagon road. Staggering to her feet, with the wind and dust blowing from the right, she estimated the direction and set off limping.
She almost fell into the wagon ruts before she saw them. With a sob of pain and relief she sank onto the edge and hunkered down against the wind. She could go no farther.
Nobody was going to find her on this road. All she could do was wait here until the storm passed and limp her way back to town. With luck, the horse would find its way home. The neighbors would know she was missing and send out searchers. But she couldn’t count on that.
Nor could she count on Logan. She’d made it clear that Logan wasn’t to follow her. He was a proud man, and stubborn—not a man to come riding after her, begging her forgiveness.
She could be proud and stubborn, too. Her words had closed a door between them. Now it was her turn to pay the price.
* * *
Logan had ridden less than a mile before he was swallowed by the storm. He stopped long enough to tie a protective blindfold over the horse’s eyes and cover his own nose and mouth with a bandanna. Kristin would have no such protection, he reminded himself as he urged the horse forward, guiding it with the reins. The well-trained animal responded to his touch, moving ahead with steadiness and trust.
With dust blocking the sky and filling the air, Logan could barely see ten feet in any direction. He had little choice except to follow the wagon road and hope for the best. If Kristin’s borrowed horse had carried her off in some other direction, then Lord help them both. He would have no way to find her. Logan had never been a religious man, but he said a silent prayer as the storm howled around him. If he found her safe, he would never let her leave him in anger again.
By the time he saw her, almost hidden by blowing dust, he had all but given up hope. She was huddled in the hollow of the road, her body curled like a sleeping child’s, her head protected by her hands. She was coated with dust.
He swung off the horse and knelt beside her. For one shattering moment he feared she might be dead. But when he touched her shoulder, she moaned and stirred. Breathing silent thanks, he pulled her up and gathered her into his arms.
She clung to him, her body shaking as he cradled her close. At first neither of them spoke. Some emotions were too strong for words. But at last Logan found his voice.
“I’ve got a blanket. We can wait out the storm here, or I can try to get you home.”
She answered in a hoarse whisper. “Home.”
By now the dust was thinning as the storm moved eastward. Overhead, the night sky was dark, with a few emerging stars. Logan gave her some water from the canteen, wrapped her in the blanket, and helped her into the saddle. After removing the horse’s blindfold, he mounted behind the cantle and reached past her to take the reins. Now that he could see farther, he recognized where they were. Blue Moon was about three miles from here. With the horse weary from battling the wind, he would take the distance at an easy pace.
Leaning forward, he kissed the back of her neck. She responded with a soft murmur. Apologies, he knew, would be a waste of words. And there was no longer any need.
* * *
