Homespun Bride

rear. His feet left the ground. Pain shot through his arms. C’mon, Aiden. He couldn’t hold on much longer.
    A lasso whizzed through the air and hissed around the mare’s neck. The rope yanked tight. Thad’s feet hit the ground, and he shortened the rein.
    Thank the Lord. Out of the corner of his eye he saw his brother riding close, keeping the rope taut. Free to let go, Thad left the mare to his brother and ran.
    Sunny, standing over the unconscious man, gave a snort of alarm. Thad dropped on his knees at Robert’s side. His guts clenched. Blood stained Worthington’s hair, chest and the snow around him.
    Was it too late? Hard to tell. It didn’t look as if he was breathing. Thad, dreading the worst, thought of Noelle as he tackled the buttons on the man’s thick wool coat. What would she do if she lost her uncle, too? Who would take care of her? Protect her? Look out for her?
    Thad tore back the coat, icy fear making his fingers clumsy. Robert’s chest was still—too still. And then there was the faintest movement. Shallow. Slow. Unsteady. But it was a breath.
    Relief nearly drowned him. Worthington was alive. There was some hope to cling to.
    “Robert!” He unwound his scarf. “Mr. Worthington, can you hear me?”
    No answer. No movement. Nothing. He was hurt bad, Thad knew it. Sweat broke out on his brow. The icy air made him shiver. The snowflakes landed on his nape as he leaned forward to try to bandage the wound. “I’ll go for the doc!” Aiden drew up his horse. Behind him, the temperamental mare, squealing in angry protest, was tethered to a fence post. “Or, is it too late?”
    “He’s alive. Barely.” Thad nodded toward his mustang, who stood patiently waiting at Robert’s feet. “Best that you take Sunny. He can run faster than your draft horse.”
    “I’ll be fast.” Aiden slid off and gave the old draft horse a fond pat on his neck before he took Sunny by the reins. He mounted up, leaving without another word, for there was no time to waste.
    “Robert?” Still no response. Thad shrugged out of his coat, debating what to do. At least those years of experience on the trail would come in handy. Thad figured the cut to Robert’s head looked bad enough, but it was the blow to his chest that troubled him. He’d been around enough of this kind of injury to know it was often lethal. His heart could have been damaged.
    The wind gusted, blowing colder. It was likely to be worse before it got better—and not good for Robert. Thad whistled for Clyde.
    The big gentle Clydesdale ambled close, his nostrils flaring at the scent of blood, but he wasn’t startled. He was a wise horse as he stood and blew out his breath in a whoosh, as if accepting his new burden.
    The wind was kicking up, and the snow began to fall like rain. In the haze of the downpour, Thad took a moment to gaze down the road, where the Worthington ranch lay.
    Noelle. He hurt for her. He knew that she loved her uncle very much.
    Clyde nickered, scenting the wind. Someone was coming. Thad was no longer a religious man so to speak, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t given over to prayer now and again. He sent one more plea heavenward, Lord, let that not be his family. Let them not see this.
    A dark horse broke through the veil of snow. There was no mistaking Miss Bradshaw’s fine lines and sensible demeanor. He leaped to his feet and grabbed the horse’s bridle bit. “Whoa there. Is that you, Mrs. Worthington?”
    The snow shrouded her, and her voice was sharp. “Who dares stop us? We have no money, for we spent it all in town. Unhand my horse, you—”
    “Thad?” Noelle’s gentle voice seemed louder than the storm. She was already moving out from beneath the lap blanket, looking at him as if she clearly saw him. “Something’s wrong. What is it?”
    “It’s Robert.” So much for his prayers, Thad thought, steeling himself to face her again. “The horse threw him. He’s in the road, and we—”
    “Robert?” Mrs. Worthington cried out. “What’s happened to my Robert?”
    “No, stay where you are, ma’am.” He released the bit to stay the woman’s arm. “He’s injured. I need you to stay collected.”
    “Injured?” The woman began to hyperventilate, breathing deeply and rapidly.
    “Noelle, my brother’s riding for the doctor, but we cannot leave him in the road. I was about to put him on the back of this horse, but the sleigh would be best for him.”
    “Of course.” She looked stricken.