Page 58 of The Heart’s Charge

The toe of Mark’s shoe jabbed an uneven railroad tie and nearly sent him sprawling. He caught his balance at the last moment and righted himself, but it cost him precious seconds. By the time he looked up, Kate had already started running toward him, away from the train. The train traveling at least twenty-five miles per hour. Impossible to outrun.

Mark stopped. Assessed. Decided.

A stone pier stood between him and Kate. Narrow at the top, widening gradually into a slender pyramid as it stretched toward the water. Not ideal, but it presented a better option than drowning or butting heads with a locomotive. He reached it first. Dropped to one knee. Peered over the side. A ledge of stone blocks about eight inches wide jutted out roughly two feet from the edge of the tracks. Too precarious to stand on. The force of the train would blow them into the river. They needed a more secure position, and he could think of only one that might work.

“Mark!”

He stood at Kate’s cry.

She slowed as she neared him, but her eyes were wild with fright. “We have to run!”

He shook his head. “No time,” he yelled. The thunder of the train was rolling closer, making it hard to hear. “Get on my back.”

Her brows lifted. She glanced over her shoulder. The train was nearly to the bridge. Her head whipped back around. Tears glistened in her eyes.

Mark took hold of her arms. “Trust me. It’s the only way.”

She nodded and hiked her skirts up past her knees. He turned his back to her and bent down, arms reaching behind him. As soon as he felt her legs against his hips, he grabbed hold and bounced her up to his waist. She wrapped her arms around his neck, not tight enough to choke him, just enough to secure her hold.

Her unquestioning faith in him boosted his determination as he stepped onto the ledge. Her face pressed against his nape. Her legs squeezed his midsection.

Lord, strengthen me.

The bridge shook as the train left the shore.

Releasing his hold on Kate’s legs, Mark carefully turned his back to the water.

The train blasted another warning whistle. The stone pier trembled beneath his feet.

No time.

Thighs burning, he squatted and fit his hands to either side of the pillar, then dropped over the edge.

Kate squealed in his ear. Her knees knocked against the stone and slid off his waist. Her arms strangled his neck. The wind from the locomotive tugged at his hat. His fingers dug into the stone ledge while his knees gripped the pillar as if he were on a rearing horse. Only this horse stayed upright for minutes, not seconds. He clung to the pier, locking his face against the cold stone, praying Kate would hold on.

Train car after train car sped by. The pillar shuddered like a bronc trying to buck him off. Kate whimpered softly but thankfully held still against him.

The extra weight of her on his back drained his endurance at an alarming rate. How much longer could he hold on? The angle of his arms, initially ninety degrees from wrist to shoulder, grew more obtuse as his strength waned. His knees slipped an inch. Then another.

Like the blind Samson in the Philistine temple, Mark squeezed his eyes shut and prayed for strength. For Kate. Just until she’s safe, Lord. Please.

He slipped another inch. And another. His arms were fully extended now, his knees weakening.

Hurry up, he begged, the train’s length seemingly eternal.

His grip faltered. He fought against his muscles’ rebellion. Concentrated on his fingers, ordering them to hold their position, no matter the pain. Push through the tremors. Overcome the weakness. A Horseman never quit. Not when an innocent depended on him. Not when the life of the woman he loved hung in the balance.

A swirling whoosh of air finally declared the passing of the last railcar. The vibrations of the pier lessened, and Mark’s spirit cried out in thanks.

But the ordeal wasn’t over. He still had to get Kate safely onto the bridge, and with his arms shaking like fall leaves during a blue norther, hoisting her up himself wasn’t an option.

“Kate,” he groaned, hoping she could hear him now that the train’s thunder was in decrescendo. “You gotta climb up. Use me . . . as a ladder.”

She gave no indication that she’d heard. Her arms remained locked at his throat, her legs limp behind his hips.

“You can do it.” He moved his head slightly, so his lips were closer to her ear. “I need you to, Kate. I can’t hold on much longer.”

“But I don’t want to make you fall.” Tears filled her voice, cracking his heart.