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The pouring rain dumped heavily around us, blurring my vision of the team working as hard as possible. I was standing next to the gate, on the outside of the miles of pasture we were pushing the cattle into, keeping them in a straight line. But the mud was slick, making the process even more difficult.
The thunder boomed loudly, drowning out my shouts and the whistling of my companions. The world was nearly black, the cattle blending in with the horizon as wind howled louder. The pelting of water droplets against my slicker was dampening even the bellowing of the nearest cow to me.
There was no stopping the dogs of war that hammered down to the soaked earth we were working upon.
And half of the herd still needed to be funneled through the narrow entrance, which was becoming trampled and slick.
“HOLD THEM STEADY!” I shouted, darting my horse in front of a panicking calf. The black, angus cow brayed and spun around, terror pushing the baby back to his mama.
“CASSIDY!” Cash’s voice drummed, broken through the rain. I tipped my head, dropping the pooling rain from my hat, and scanned the muddied group around me. Just ahead, on the opposite side of the herd of cattle, was the very man I was looking for.
As I squinted harder, I saw him pointing over my shoulder.
“CASSIDY!” he yelled again, and I followed his finger, catching a glimpse of a horse tail disappearing into the thick, pine forest behind me.
“WHO WAS THAT?” I shouted back.
“BRIAR TOOK OFF AFTER A CALF! SHE DOESN’T KNOW THE AREA LIKE WE DO AND—”
“THE CLIFF!” Snatching the reins tightly in my gloved hands, I spun my horse on his haunches, and we shot off like a rocket.
The musty scent of his sweat, damp from rain, billowed into my nose as we pounded across the wet mud, glassy beneath his hooves. Branches snapped across my arms as we ducked into the treeline, following the quickly fading prints left by Briar’s horse and the lone calf she was chasing.
Leaves hung wet, slapping against my cheeks from the aspen trees as my horse jumped over a log and we rounded the bend. I knew what was clawing way too close to my left. I knew the sheer rock ledge that plummeted to a painful death below. I knew what we were nearing as we barreled farther and farther along the makeshift path.
Briar’s horse’s hoof prints followed along the ridge, rounding blackened corners, dangerously close to the edge. Each step forward, each inch we crept onward, increased the chances that my horse and I were never going to make it back home.
That she, her horse, and that calf, would never make it back alive.
Suddenly, a flash of lightning bolted across the sky, casting a dull, brief glow of light around me, and I pulled my horse to a stop.
“Briar!” I gasped as her figure, standing near her horse, snapped into my sight.
“I’ve got this!” she yelled, barely glancing back at me as thunder rumbled across the sky, which was now as dark as obsidian. She took another trembling step forward, sloshing through the mud, and reached for the terrified calf bellowing loudly for his mama. He’d wedged himself in between a sheer rock face directly in front of us and trees piercing through the wet mud off to the right.
My heart hammered in my chest, wondering why she didn’t just leave him there. He would be safe and mostly protected next to that ridge.
She took another step forward, rain slamming down hard against her hat, the long blonde strands of her braid clinging to the back of the slicker I’d let her borrow that Tenley normally wore.
She wasn’t backing off. “Briar, let me swing a loop—”
“No, I’ve got this,” she hissed again and took her next step. Her boot slipped, and the inside of the slicker, blown open in the wind, snagged on a branch. I inhaled sharply, my skin prickling in fear as she redistributed her weight. Everything in me told me to stop her. That I needed to jump down from my horse right now and not let her do this, but she did not seem like someone that was used to the help of others.
Suddenly, she launched herself forward, and the waterproof fabric of her raincoat, still caught on the branch, sheared apart as she managed to lock her arms around the tiny calf.
And they both collapsed to the ground, which pinned the animal beneath her chest.
The earth around her shook, rumbling low, and I knew what that meant.
Landslide.
Barreling off my horse, I crashed through the mud as the Earth shifted beneath them and, caught in the silt, began dragging them toward the cliff. Briar screamed, her shrill sound piercing through the thunder as she locked eyes with me. I launched forward and slammed a hand around her arm, my torso slapping against the slimy clay just as her legs plummeted off the side of the sheer rock face.
Mud slid down the front collar of my slicker, coating the inside of my shirt. Cold pierced my skin like thin, sharp daggers threatening to draw blood. I tightened my hand around her wet arm and dug in the toes of my boots, dragging us to a slow and grinding halt.
For only a moment.
And then we shifted an inch.
