Against all odds, Goose starts to walk with me. There’s no resistance or hesitation. He bobs his head and walks with mebecause he trusts me, and for once, I’m not holding anything back. I only want to get him to safety.
We’re twenty feet from the barn when headlights sweep across the paddock, cutting through the darkness like a searchlight.
I freeze when I hear a truck door slam.
Rusty’s voice cuts through the storm. “Roxanne? What the hell are you doing out here?”
He jogs toward us in the rain.
“I—I had to get Goose—he was out?—”
“You’re barefoot in a lightning storm!” he growls. “Are you out of your mind?”
“I need to find Jameson!” I shout back.
“He’s in the damn house!”
Rusty throws his heavy Carhartt coat over my shoulders. Goose stomps and tosses his head again, but Rusty takes over. I don’t even try to argue as I’m soaked, shaking, and for the first time since I left the house, really starting to feel it. He leads Goose the rest of the way to the barn, glancing over his shoulder at me every few steps.
Rusty slams the barn door shut behind us. The air smells of wet hay and fear. Goose’s stall gate hangs open, and a few others do too, but the horses only shift nervously, hooves clattering against the planks.
“Damn new ranch hand’s been half-assing night checks again.” Rusty shakes his head as he flips on the lights. “Goose’s latch must have been loose. I’ve told him twice, you gotta double-check everything, but that’s on me. Should’ve done a final walkthrough myself.”
He gets Goose settled in his stall, then grabs a towel from a hook near the feed room.
“Start drying him off,” he says, handing me the towel. “I’ll grab a blanket,” he adds, disappearing into the tack room. He’sback in seconds, swinging a fleece over Goose’s back. “There. That’ll help.”
“How did you find me?” I ask, still trying to catch my breath.
“I went to the office. Left some paperwork in there I needed. Figured I’d sneak in, not wake anyone. Leo was already outside waving me down.”
“I’m so sorry,” I blurt out. “I … I didn’t lock the door. It must have flown open, and I panicked. I swear I looked everywhere for Jameson, and I thought he was gone. I ran out and then I saw Goose out. I still need to find Jame?—”
Rusty puts his hand up. “Okay, okay, slow down. Leo found that little bulldog hiding behind the couch.”
I groan. “Seriously?”
He grabs another towel, starts drying off Goose’s neck. “Leo said you were looking for the dog, but I told him to stay behind. I saw the damn paddock gate swinging open and well, here you are.”
I lean my forehead against Goose’s damp shoulder, water still dripping off the ends of my hair.
“I’m sorry?—”
“Please don’t, Roxanne. Thank you for helping Goose. Even if that was a shit-crazy thing you did. Horse is good now. Let’s get you back to the house.”
Rusty shields me from the rain with some extra towels as we sprint to the truck and then to the house.
“Jameson!”
The bulldog snorts as I kneel to hug him when we walk in the door. Leo is now up and comes in from the great room.
“Are you okay?” Leo asks, hugging me.
I nod, feeling the sensation of tears pressing against the back of my eyes. Seeing that Jameson is okay and knowing Goose and the other horses are safe in their stalls gets me a little choked up.
“Has anyone heard from Duke?” I ask, my worry now shifting to him.
Leo and Rusty both shake their heads.
