The Stolen Suitor (26 page)

The saddle was empty. Jeremy was gone.

CHRIS
waited anxiously at the ranch house. He watched the stable out the kitchen window in case Janie returned and went there first. There was a floodlight above the double doors, and he could see the building, barely, through the rain. Lightning cleaved the sky and thunder shook the window. Nobody should be out on a night like this. He had his phone in his hand, and he kept checking it. The bars for his signal wavered between one and two, and for a few panicky minutes, none. But even when he had a signal, there was no message.

He wanted to call Sheriff Taylor, and he decided he would if they weren’t back soon. He looked at the clock and decided to give them ten more minutes.

He was terrified for Janie, but he also didn’t like the fact that Jeremy was out there, on a horse, in this storm. What if he fell and was hurt? What if he caught pneumonia?

One crisis at a time
, he reminded himself. Jeremy wasn’t a child. He could take care of himself.

Just before his self-appointed deadline was up, Chris saw movement out at the stable. He grabbed one of the slickers from the rack by the front door and ran over there as fast as he could in the slippery mud.

When he burst into the stable, he found Trix, Triumph, and Janie. They all looked like they’d been through hell, but Janie was sitting upright in front of Trix, her face pale but alert.

In the shelter of the stable, Trix handed Janie down to Chris. Janie put her hands around his neck while Trix dismounted and started to unsaddle Triumph.

“Uncle Chris! I went to visit Uncle Eric, only it was rainin’ really hard and I got stuck in the river!”

“Oh, my goodness!” Chris said. “That sounds scary.” His own heart was pounding. He looked back toward the doors.
Where are Eric and Jeremy?

Janie nodded. “It was. It was a really bad idea,” she said frankly, as if parroting her elders.

“Yes, it was, Bug,” Trix said loudly, even as she rubbed Triumph with a towel.

“But I found Uncle Eric anyway. He got me out of the river!”

Chris looked at Trix. She paused in her ministrations to Triumph and met Chris’s gaze. She shook her head, her own eyes bright with worry, her lips tight.

“Where’s Jeremy?” Chris asked, a stone lodged in his throat.

“I don’t know, Chris. Eric pulled Janie out, and we were both occupied with that, and when we looked around, Jeremy was just… gone. We found his horse.” She hesitated. “Apple was all wet. Chris, I think Jeremy might have gone into the river.”

Oh God. Please no.
Chris put a hand over his mouth to stop from screaming or cursing out loud.

“I had to bring her home.” Trix looked at Janie. “I need to call Dr. Borman to come look at her, and… I think we should call the sheriff.”

Chris felt numb, like he was watching the scene from somewhere above. He couldn’t believe this was happening, but it was, and he had to do something. He took a few steps toward the stable door, then back, wondering if he should take a horse. “I have to go find him.”

“
Chris
.” Trix grabbed his arm and looked at his face. Her brow furrowed. “We’ll find him. Don’t worry.”

But people did die, didn’t they? Rescuers did. There were always those crazy stories in the news about guys who had gone out into a river or across ice or something to save a dog and ended up dying themselves. There wasn’t always a happy ending. Something like that—it could happen so fast. Jeremy could be dead right now.

Chris’s eyes felt hot and he wanted to hit something.

“You really care for him,” Trix said. It wasn’t a question.

Chris nodded. “Should I take a horse? I have to help.” He felt like he was babbling.

Trix thought for a moment. “Take your Jeep and go down to the Noximon Road Bridge. That’s only about a mile downstream. The way the river’s moving, if he’s in the water, he’ll be going downstream fast. Eric is riding that way on the bank, so he may catch up with you. I’ll call the sheriff.”

It sounded like a decent plan, and it gave Chris another idea. “Call Ben and Joshua too. Their place is down past Noximon Road. They can go out to the river and ride this way in case he’s even farther downstream.”

“Good idea,” Trix said.

Chris was already heading for his Jeep.

“Chris!” Trix called. He turned and she threw him a big, heavy flashlight, which he caught. “Good luck.”

There was a look on her face. He thought they understood each other—the way she felt about Eric, the way he felt about Jeremy. Without a word, he ran for his Jeep.

JEREMY
was in serious trouble. The river was freezing and deadly. He’d already gotten hit by a downed tree limb that had struck him on the back of the head and dug into his scalp. By the time Jeremy had freed his long hair from the obstruction and watched the branch roll off downstream, he was exhausted, and his hand came away from the back of his head covered with blood. It hurt like a bitch and he felt woozy.

That’s when reality sank in. It was very possible he might not survive this.

His body was carried along mercilessly by the current. He’d tried swimming to the bank a number of times, but he failed, and he knew it was a waste of what little energy he had left. Maybe he could find something to grab on to—a log that would keep him afloat, a rock he could pull himself onto. Something.

Did Eric realize by now what had happened? He must. But would he find Jeremy in time?

He’d been so stupid. When he’d ridden back behind Trix and seen Eric struggling to get to Janie in the water, Jeremy had been completely focused on his brother. He’d ridden up the riverbank, straining forward to get a look at what was going on. Apple must have interpreted that as a command to go into the river itself, because he did. And by the time Jeremy realized there was water lapping at his boots, Apple had seen Annabelle and tried to swim for her.

As his horse’s hooves left the riverbed and he began to swim, Jeremy knew he was in trouble. Big trouble. He tried to pull Apple around with the reins, but the horse ignored him and swam harder toward Annabelle and Eric.

Then suddenly the old horse stopped swimming, panting heavily, and the pair of them immediately got dragged downstream. Jeremy slipped off the horse, barely avoiding getting hit by his hooves. The last he saw of Apple, the riderless horse was swimming for the bank. As for Eric and Trix, he’d lost sight of them at least a decade ago. Or that’s what it felt like.

Survive
, Jeremy thought as the current twisted him this way and that. His hip banged against a submerged rock, causing him to cry out in pain and swallow water. His body started to spin and he fought it. He had to keep his feet pointed downstream, where they’d encounter trouble first—and not his aching head. He might break an ankle, but at least he’d live.

I want to live. Please, God, let me live.

There was so much he wanted to do. Hell, he’d hardly done anything at all yet. He’d spent high school hiding from his peers, and the years since hiding in the kitchen of Nora’s diner, or in his mom’s trailer. When he’d forced himself out of that routine, look what amazing thing had happened. He’d met Chris.

He wanted more time with Chris, more kisses, more smiles. He wanted more of the world, period.

Let me live, and I won’t hide anymore
, he promised, though whether he was telling God or himself, he didn’t know.

And then, up ahead through the rain, he saw a big shape looming over the river.
A bridge.
He’d never seen the bridge from this angle, but big stone pilings were sunk into the river every twenty feet or so. If he could grab on to one of those….

He flexed his freezing, numb fingers, trying to get them to move. This was his only hope. It had to work.

CHRIS
pulled onto the Noximon Bridge and threw his Jeep into park. He opened the door and jumped out. Not bothering to close the door, he ran over to the upstream side of the bridge and shone the flashlight down at the water.

He looked. And he looked. The beam was strong but diffused at this distance. He played it over the surface of the river slowly, looking for something, anything, and half afraid of what he’d find.

What if he saw Jeremy’s facedown body? He wasn’t sure he could live with that.

He dug out his phone. It showed one bar. He called Trix. “Anything?” he asked as soon as she picked up.

“No,” she said, breaking up. “…called the sheriff… way. Joshua…. Hey!”

And again: “Hey!”

The word was faint, and it took Chris a moment to realize it was not coming from the phone. He dropped it to the asphalt road and trained the flashlight on the water again, sweeping it around the fast-moving surface. He saw nothing.

“Hey!”

He looked down. Jeremy was clinging to one of the bridge pilings. It had a fatter lower section that stuck out from the top, making a small ledge maybe a foot wide. The river was so high, that ledge was right at the water line. Jeremy sat on that narrow lip, holding on to the large piling with both arms wrapped a short way around it. He let go with one arm long enough to wave up at Chris, nearly slipped into the water, and grabbed the piling again.

“Jeremy!” Chris screamed.

Jeremy bowed his head then, maybe exhausted from the effort. With his hair darkened by the water and his dark shirt and jeans, he was almost swallowed up again in the night. But Chris thought he saw blood, darker still, matted on the back of Jeremy’s head and staining his light sweater.

Oh my God. I have to get him out of there.

“Jeremy! Jeremy!” Chris shouted, needing Jeremy to look up again.

Slowly, he did. But his hair was hanging down, leaving only a thin strip of pale skin.

“Get your hair out of your eyes!” Chris shouted, needing to see Jeremy’s face again, to see his expression, see if he was okay.

Jeremy actually laughed, his chest shaking as he used his elbow to wipe the hair from his face. His voice wafted up. “You’re telling me that
now
?”

Chris gave a hysterical little laugh of his own. “I can only see your skin in the dark, dufus!”

Jeremy looked up at him dutifully, his face paler than usual—too pale. Then he slumped against the piling, looking beat.

Chris couldn’t be sure, but he thought the river was still rising. The rain was certainly still coming down hard enough. What if it covered the little bit Jeremy was sitting on? What if Jeremy got swept away again?

I have to get him out of there.

Fuck. Where was the phone? He found it on the bridge and, fortunately, it wasn’t broken. He called Trix again. It sounded like she picked up, but the rain and river were so fucking loud.

“I found Jeremy at Noximon Bridge. He’s in the water, holding on to a piling. We need search and rescue now!”

“I’ll call,” Trix said clearly.

He dropped the phone back into a pocket. “Jeremy, hang on! Help is coming!” Chris shouted over the side of the bridge.

The slumped figure of Jeremy moved one hand a little to show he’d heard. He appeared to be having difficulty holding on to the cement piling. It was too broad for him to get much of a grip, like hugging a wall. His body shook with the cold.

Shit, how long would it take them to get here? Jeremy needed help now. Chris ran to his Jeep and looked frantically in the back, rummaging through everything he had. He had an old plaid camping blanket, but that wouldn’t help unless he could rip it up and make a rope. Even if he could tear the heavy felt, it probably wouldn’t be long enough. There was stuff for changing a tire, bottled water. Nothing that was of use.

He ran back and pointed the light down at Jeremy, terrified he’d be gone. But he was still there. Chris talked to him, told him it was going to be fine, to hang on. He didn’t know if Jeremy could still hear him over the rain or not.

A few endless minutes later, Chris heard a noise and turned to see Eric riding onto the bridge on a horse. Both man and beast were soaking wet. The horse’s mouth frothed and her flank heaved.

Eric jumped down when he got close. “Chris?”

“He’s down there!” Chris pointed the light, and Eric looked over the side.

“Jeremy!” Eric shouted, his face hopeful.

Jeremy looked up but only briefly before planting his cheek once again against the piling. His fingers slipped on the wet cement. His cream-colored sweater looked matted with the blood that ran down from his head.

“Jesus Christ!” Eric said.

“I know! I called Trix to get search and rescue, but I’m not sure we can wait,” Chris shouted. “We need a ladder or a rope, something!”

Eric ran to his horse and brought back a rope with a lasso on the end.

Chris grabbed it. “Is that long enough?”

“Let’s see.” Eric threw the lasso end of the rope over the side of the bridge. But even when Eric held just the tip of the other end and leaned over the side, the rope still dangled four or five feet over Jeremy’s head. “Jeremy!” Eric yelled. “Can you grab the rope?”

Jeremy looked up again, his eyes like two dark holes in his pale face. He looked up at the lasso above him. Shook his head. He didn’t even try to stand.

“It’s too high!” Chris said. “He can’t reach it. If he tries to jump for it, he’ll go into the river.”

And suddenly, he knew what to do.

“Lower me,” Chris said, stripping off his jacket. He’d need to be able to grab Jeremy, and the slick material wouldn’t help. Nor would slick skin. Fortunately, he had on long sleeves of cotton—the purple dress shirt he’d worn for their date. God, was that really only hours ago?

“What are you doing?” Eric shouted.

Chris took Eric’s arm and met his eyes. “Listen. I’ll take the rope. You lower me by my ankles. That ought to make the lasso long enough to reach Jeremy.”

“And then what?” Eric looked dubious.

“Once Jeremy has the rope, you can pull us both up.”

Eric looked down at Jeremy for a moment, lips pressed tight. “You should lower me. He’s my brother.”