“Good lass. At least the rain will quickly wash the mud off you.” He grinned at her over the saddle. His hat had been blown into the woods and his blond hair was darkened by the rain and he was the most beautiful, dashing man she’d ever seen.
Suddenly this was an adventure, not sodden drudgery, and she laughed out loud. “I’ll be the cleanest woman in Maryland!”
Clean but windblown. Twigs and leaves banged into her, blown by the force of the wind. She reminded herself that this wouldn’t last much longer. The hurricane in Jamaica had gone on for hours, but this wasn’t Jamaica.
As Richard had predicted, the bridge was around the next bend in the muddy road. Vague outlines of a barn were visible on the other side of the creek. The building looked intact and it sat in a meadow with no trees close enough to crush the structure if they were blown over. She found that reassuring.
But first they had to cross the bridge, and the creek was close to overflowing with water raging downstream like wild horses. “I’m guessing that the water level wasn’t this high when you came through yesterday!”
“It was four or five feet lower and the current was lazy by comparison,” he said grimly. “The bridge still looks sound, though. It’s made of several large logs laid across the creek with boards nailed on top to level it off. With pilings at both ends and railings, it should be safe if we cross before the water rises any higher.”
Another tree crashed behind them, this one close enough for leaves to brush Callie’s heels. “Do you want me to walk across the bridge to test that it’s still sound?”
“I’m heavier, so I’ll do the testing. Take Samson.”
She took hold of Samson’s bridle, petting his neck and murmuring words of comfort. The horse was skittish at the sight of the bridge and rushing water, but he didn’t look panicked. They should be able to lead him across safely.
Richard proceeded onto the bridge cautiously. Despite being hatless and saturated, he seemed still very much the gentleman.
As he’d told her, he was a pragmatic adventurer, not taking unnecessary risks, so he started by gripping the left side railing and shaking hard. It was merely a long, thin tree branch, irregular but solid. It didn’t move.
Holding on to the railing, he stepped onto the boards of the bridge, stamping with one foot while keeping the other on land. The bridge vibrated from his stamping and the water beating against the pilings, but it was solid enough for safety.
The bridge was short, perhaps thirty feet long. After crossing with care, Richard returned at a much quicker pace. “That’s a good piece of bridge building. Now let’s get across into that barn before lightning or a flying tree hits us! You go first. Once you’re safe on the other side, I’ll bring Samson across.”
Callie waited till Richard took control of the horse, then cautiously started across the bridge. After a brief lessening of intensity, the rain was again so heavy that she could barely see the opposite bank. Though the bridge felt solid, the shaking of the structure seemed much stronger now that she was actually walking on it. Water was starting to splash across the boards. A few more minutes and the bridge would be flooded.
She reached the other side and stepped gratefully onto land. Turning, she called, “Your turn!”
Samson was clearly nervous, but he’d been well trained. With Richard at his shoulder, he stepped warily onto the bridge and started to cross. Callie’s gaze was so intent on man and horse that she didn’t see a massive, uprooted tree sweeping full speed down the creek. Just before it slammed into the bridge, she recognized the danger and screamed, “Richard! Look out!”
Before she could say more, the tree’s huge root ball slammed into the middle of the bridge, smashing the boards and tearing the underlying logs away from the pilings that had secured them. Samson reared in panic and tore free of Richard’s grip. Callie instinctively tried to catch the horse as he galloped past her, but she failed and barely escaped falling under his thundering hooves.
Richard, where is Richard?
Dear God, he’d fallen into the raging current and was being swept away! One of the bridge railings had torn loose and was about to be dragged into the water. She grabbed hold before the water could take it and raced along the bank of the creek, the long railing dragging behind her.
A sapling tree had fallen into the water, its roots still tenuously connected to the bank. Richard managed to snag one of the upper branches, which reached almost the middle of the creek. The thin upper branches bent and the sapling’s roots started to pull from the bank, but his hold slowed him down long enough for Callie to catch up with him. She shouted, “Grab this!”
He looked up and saw her shoving the railing through the water toward him. He released his hold on the sapling’s branches just as the young tree was wrenched from the embankment. He was just able to catch the end of the railing before he was swept out of range. His weight almost pulled Callie into the water. She dove flat on the muddy embankment, holding grimly to the railing.
The slippery wood almost tore from her grip, but she managed to hang on while Richard hauled himself hand over hand along the railing toward her. There was blood in his hair and she guessed he’d been hit by floating debris. But he doggedly fought his way through the chaotic currents until he reached the bank.
She helped pull him onto land and for a long moment, they lay side by side gasping for breath as the rain pounded on their thoroughly saturated bodies. Richard said in a breathless voice, “I am really beginning toloathethis country of yours!”
She couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m not that fond of this piece of America just now, either. Come on, we need to get to that barn.”
She pushed herself to a sitting position and stared at the creek. The bridge was gone except for the pilings. “Are you hurt?”
He cautiously moved his arms and legs, then rubbed the bleeding area on his head, wincing a little. “Bruised, but I don’t think anything is broken.” He sat up, moving gingerly. “I assume Samson is halfway to his home barn by now.”
“If I had four legs I’d be right behind him,” she said wryly.
“Shall we get a roof over our heads?” He stood and offered her a hand. When they were both upright, he slung an arm around her shoulders and they wove their way to the barn, battered by the still falling rain.
“I think it’s letting up a bit.” She stumbled in a rut and he kept her from falling.
“Optimist. I think this is the first of forty days and nights that will drown the world.” He lifted the iron latch that secured the doors and swung one open for her. She stepped inside, grateful to be out of the pounding rain.
