Breathe Again

Chapter 29

A strangled shout tore from Sterling's throat as he spurred Fancy forward, "DOTTIE, NOOO."

Everything that happened in the next three-seconds seemed to happen in slow motion. Dottie saw the danger she was in, but it was too late. She and her horse were in the direct path of the falling tree, and there was nothing Sterling could do to stop it from crushing her.

Her eyes met Sterling's in the driving rain as another bolt of lightning lit up the sky. Sterling watched in helpless horror, pulling Fancy to a skidding stop as the mangled tree tore free of the last fibers keeping it in place and crashed down the sloped edge of the mountain.

His heart thudded to a painful halt in his chest. He would never make it in time to save her.

The tree tumbled across the road, sweeping everything in its path with it as it bounced over the edge into the ravine.

Sterling flung himself from Fancy's back and screamed, "DOTTIE."

He ran to where he'd last seen her and slid through the muck. Broken branches and leaves littered the road among the sloppy puddles of mud, rocks, and other debris.

She wasn't there. No sign of her or the horse she'd been riding remained on the path.

"DOTTIE," he shouted, racing to the edge of the road.

Rain blurred his vision, pouring in never-ending waves against him. He'd lost his hat somewhere along the way and now fought against the wind and rain as it lashed wet locks of hair against his face into his eyes.

Thunder rumbled, building in intensity, and he found himself praying for another burst of lightning to illuminate the sky. He had to find her; he couldn't lose her.

He called out her name repeatedly until he came to the ledge and peered down the rocky side. Without giving himself a chance to question the sanity of his actions, he skidded down the slick rocks in a rush of loose shale, mud, and water until he reached the bottom unscathed.

"DOTTIE," he called with a voice full of terror and desperation.

He scanned up and down the area, looking for any sign of where she and her horse may be lying hurt or dead. The fragile tree had broken apart upon impact with the other trees along its maddening path down the ravine and now lay scattered around him in the carnage of its deadly assault.

Ten feet away from where he stood, Sterling found her horse, dead; its left foreleg was partially torn free of its body and its neck broken. However, there couldn't find any sign of Dottie.

A flash of lightning further down the valley cast a pale wash of light. "DOTTIE" he screamed, scanning the area in mounting desperation.

Movement up and to his right, caught his eye. He stumbled his way over rocks and debris toward it. Furiously wiping the rain from his eyes as he neared, he shouted again, "DOTTIE."

"Hawk?" came her weak reply as she pushed against a thick limb that kept trying to roll onto her head.

Tears of relief mixed with rain on his face as he ran closer, slipping to a stop at her side. A choked sob escaped his throat, "Oh, honey."

He threw the precarious branch to the side and discovered several bulky and broken tree limbs lying atop her in a disheveled heap, trapping her in place. She was wedged tightly against an enormous boulder with no way of freeing herself.

Dottie's head was pounding, and something sharp jabbed into her hip and left shoulder blade. The limbs encasing her, tangled within her full skirts and held her legs immobile. From the moment the branch swept her and her horse from the road, she was positive she would die.

It all happened with a sense of detachment too. She was plucked from the saddle and carried almost gently through the air before landing with a bone-jarring thud to where she now rested amongst the boulders and broken trees at the base of the ravine.

Her horse's horrendous scream of pain had filled her ears. But, it was made all the worse by his abrupt silence. His death hurt far more than any injury she suffered this night. She'd raised him from a colt, had always shared a special bond with him, and now she'd been the cause of his death.

Had she not ridden out after Sterling upon seeing him pass by and stop in the road, Samson would still be alive. Chasing after Sterling had been a rash action, one she now regretted if only for the loss of her horse.

News quickly spread earlier today of the deaths of the two men at the lumber mill, and when Sterling didn't arrive for dinner as promised, she'd worried how it had affected him.

He'd always been a very compassionate man, intensely driven when it came to protecting and providing for those he was responsible for. The deaths would exact a heavy toll on his heart and mind, and she knew he would try to keep away until he had his feelings sorted.

The quality inspired both admiration and irritation in her. Sterling was always there when others needed help or comfort, but if the situation reversed, he balked. The fact that he'd found her, he was alive and unhurt, and that she was relatively unscathed, considering all she'd suffered in the past several minutes, left her giddy with relief.

Dottie pushed small rocks and other rubble off her as Sterling worked at removing more of the twigs and larger branches. She ached to be free and hold him close, to assure her heart he really was safe and this wasn't some sort of twisted dream.

The more she moved, the more her stomach roiled and threatened to expel its contents; but she attributed it to nerves of the situation and the increased hammering in her head.

Sterling threw branches and sticks off her until her upper body was free. He fell to his knees at her side and cradled her face. "What were you thinking, riding into a storm like this? You could have been killed. Do you have any idea-"

She reached up a shaky hand and pushed his wet hair behind his ear, stopping his impassioned rebuke with her gentle touch. Her teeth chattered when she said, "I'm cold, wet, and stuck. I'm really not in the mood to be reprimanded for my actions just yet."

Sterling kissed the palm of her hand and swallowed. "Later..." He bit back the words aching to be set free and shoved against the broken limbs holding her prisoner.

He pushed and pulled, choking back his fear when the heaviest refused to budge. It lay directly over Dottie's thighs, the broken limbs piercing the material of her full skirts as effectively as sharp claws. Working frantically to see what caught it, Sterling tried moving the log from a different direction. It shifted slightly.

"Can you move your toes, honey?" he asked as calmly as he could, refusing to give in to the panic threatening to take hold.

No matter how hard he shoved, the tree refused to budge. The water pouring down made it even harder to get a solid grip on the slippery wood. The wind howled down the ravine, like a wounded animal, whipping grit and leaves around them with stinging ferocity.

Dottie didn't reply.

Sterling's gut clenched and twisted into a thousand knots. Had he been too late to save her after all? Holding his breath, he searched for a pulse.