Chapter 22

22

“Rusty!”

Letty’s anguished cry ripped through Philip like a barbed-wire lash. The same lash he wanted to use to flay the satisfied smirk from the face of the man who’d punted Rusty off the bridge. Philip recognized his type. Trainers who turned dogs into killers with a steady regimen of cruelty, then profited from the pain their animals inflicted upon others through gambling and extortion.

Yet as Philip leapt back into the saddle and raced for the opposite end of the bridge, it wasn’t justice that spurred him. It was Letty. He’d made her a promise, and God help him, he intended to keep it.

Thankfully, by the time he reached her side, Letty had ceased staring at the hole in the trestle where Rusty disappeared and had turned Shadow for the shoreline. Leaving the bridge and any danger the stranger might pose behind, the two raced down the embankment, scouring the water below for any sign of a red wolf.

“Rusty!” Letty shouted her pet’s name and pointed to a dark splotch bobbing in the water about fifteen yards from shore.

The old rust monger had good survival instincts. He paddled for the shore as best he could, but the river’s current dragged against him, making his progress slow. Rusty’s head dipped beneath the water, and Philip’s jaw clamped with painful force. He urged Steele to greater speed, scanning the shoreline ahead, searching for anything that could give them an advantage. Rusty would fight as long as he could, but not even a wolf could match a river’s strength.

The sloping bank along the river’s edge steepened as the woods encroached upon the waterway. For a heartbeat, Philip considered taking Steele down to the water’s edge, but the sand would slow the horse’s pace, and hidden rocks could lame the steed if he stepped wrong. So he stayed on his current path and prayed for a sign.

What he got was a fallen log. Thankfully, his horse was paying attention to the terrain in front of them while Philip’s focus was divided between land and water. By the time Philip spotted the log, he had just enough time to rise in the stirrups as Steele made the leap. When Steele’s hooves returned to earth and Philip’s seat returned to the saddle, inspiration struck. A short distance ahead lay another fallen tree. One that had been uprooted at the edge of the riverbank and now jutted a good six feet into the water. If he could get to the log ahead of Rusty, and if the wolf could swim within reach, they might have a chance.

Philip leaned low over Steele’s neck. “Go, boy. Go!”

The gray surged forward, his pace as reckless as Philip’s plan. When they reached the fallen tree’s location, Philip reined Steele to a halt and jumped from the saddle. He dove down the embankment, slipping on the steep slope and eroded soil until he reached the exposed root system and used it to steady himself. He maneuvered atop the log and found his footing. Not taking the time to dwell on the narrowness of the fallen pine, Philip trotted down the log’s surface, arms outstretched for balance.

He slowed his pace once he reached the water’s edge. Broken branch points jabbed up from the log, making foot placement more difficult. Not to mention the slickness of the water lapping over the surface of the wood. Needing all of his concentration to navigate the log, he didn’t lift his gaze to search for Rusty until he heard Letty’s distant call.

“He’s coming, Philip!”

Glancing upstream, he spotted the bedraggled canine, head barely above the water. Philip curled his tongue and let out a shrill whistle. Then he cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted at full volume.

“Rusty! Here, boy. Here!”

The wolf’s head turned. Philip waved his hands above his head, hoping to give the animal a target.

“Here, boy!”

Please, God, bring him close enough for me to grab.

They’d have one chance, a fact Rusty seemed to comprehend, for he came to life in the water, swimming with renewed vigor and making some progress in angling himself toward the fallen tree.

Philip gauged Rusty’s position and headed farther down the log. The wood creaked under his weight, bringing him up short. Carefully, he lowered himself down to all fours, gripping the log with his hands until he found a place smooth enough for him to straddle it with his legs. Frigid water rushed over his knees and into his boots as his legs disappeared beneath the surface. Gripping the log with his thighs like he would a horse, he glued his gaze to the dark shape rushing toward him.

He tightened his legs. Limbered his fingers. Calculated the trajectory.

Too shallow. Rusty was going to miss the target.

With no time to consider the consequences, Philip loosened his grip on the tree and lunged sideways, grabbing for Rusty with his left hand while scrabbling to hook his right arm over the log to keep himself from being swept away.

Something sharp scraped his bicep as he plunged up to his chest in the water, but he ignored the pain as he grabbed for Rusty. His hand met fur and triumph soared through him. Until the fur began to slip through his fingers. He fumbled for purchase. The tree’s branches slowed Rusty’s escape, but Philip could feel the river pulling the wolf out of reach. Desperate, he made a grab for one of Rusty’s legs, but something else brushed against the back of his hand. Something corded. The leash!

Philip snatched the rope, wound it twice around his hand, then strained with all his might to reel in the wolf on the other end. A groan tore from his throat as he arm-wrestled the river, the rope biting into his hand.

Little by little, his arm curled toward his body. Rusty inched closer. Close enough to tangle his legs in the log’s dead branches and free himself from the stronger currents. Philip followed the line of the leash down the tree, winding the slack around his hand as he neared Rusty’s side.

Holding on to the log with his right arm, he stretched his left over the top of the branch that separated him from Letty’s wolf.

“I’ve got you, boy.” Philip panted the words, his muscles rapidly turning to jelly.

Rusty whimpered, his nails scraping against the tree as he tried unsuccessfully to scramble to safety.

“Easy, now. I’ll get you.”

But it wouldn’t be easy. Not with the current pulling Philip’s legs downstream beneath the log and the chill numbing his hands.

“I’m going to pull myself out first, then come for you, all right?”

Philip twisted his body to face the log and grabbed it with both hands. Using one of the stubs left behind from a branch that had long ago been torn from the trunk, he dragged himself upward until his chest lay across the top of the log. His body demanded that he rest, but a soft whimper urged him to hurry. With a grimace, he pulled his numb legs from the water and crawled to the bramble that had trapped Rusty.

The wood creaked and groaned under his weight, but Philip ignored the ominous sound. Stretching out on his stomach, he locked his legs around the tree and grabbed hold of the rope at the wolf’s neck. With a mighty heave, he pulled Rusty from the river and draped him over the log beneath Philip’s chin. Neither man nor beast moved for several seconds. Exhaustion had ren dered them inert. Philip’s cheek lay on Rusty’s shoulder as the two fought to catch their breath.

Then a voice called to them from the shoreline. An urgent voice. One filled with worry and desperation.

“Philip? Are you all right? Philip!”

He picked up his head, and gradually his body followed until he reached a sitting position.

“What do you say we get off this toothpick, boy?”

A whine was his only answer.

“Too bad that swim tuckered you out. I was gonna vote for you hauling me to shore. Guess I’m the one stuck doin’ the haulin’.”

Philip slowly pulled himself to his feet and found his balance. Then with infinite care, he bent and collected Rusty into his arms.

“Lord,” he murmured as he slowly pivoted to face the shore, “I don’t think I ever needed your help walking the straight and narrow as much as I do right now.” Staring at the log, he shuffled forward a step. “My feet are numb.” He shuffled again. “I’ve got a wild animal in my arms.” He held his breath as he lifted his foot over a broken branch nub and planted his boot on the other side. The wood creaked another warning. “And this here tree is threatening to give way.” He lifted his back leg and brought it forward. “Guide my feet, Lord, and see us safely to the other side.”

One wobbly step at a time, Philip made his way down the log. His limbs shook from the cold and wet. Rusty shivered in his arms. His boots sloshed with every step. But he progressed toward the shore and the woman in red waiting for them. He hadn’t dared look up from the log to gauge her distance from them, but the red of her cloak beckoned at the edge of his vision like a beacon of hope.

As if she knew that navigating the log took all the concentration he could summon, she didn’t call out encouragement, but he swore he could feel her willing them to shore. When he finally reached the section of log that rested atop sand instead of water, she appeared at his side, her hand clasping his arm and steadying him as he stumbled from the log to the ground.

He crumpled to his knees, unable to go another step. In a heartbeat, she swept the cloak from her shoulders and wrapped it around him. Her warmth and scent enveloped him, and even though he knew he should protest—the cape was her only protection against the rain that continued to fall—he couldn’t find the energy to reject her gift. She rubbed his arms with brisk efficiency, stirring his circulation.

“You shouldn’t have taken such a risk.” Her voice broke as she scolded and rubbed.

Philip tipped his head back just enough to see her face, those freckles he liked so much slowly coming into focus. “H-he’s y-your fam-ily.”

He’d known it from the moment he saw her and Rusty together. Her wolf was more than a pet. He was her friend, her confidant, her companion. Thanks to her isolated upbringing, Rusty had been as much of a brother to her as any human sibling.

Letty paused in her rubbing to meet his gaze. “Yes, but losing you both would have been more than I could have borne.” She searched his face. “You’re more than just a man hired to protect me, Philip. You’re my friend. I care about what happens to you.”

The words warmed him even more than the friction of her hands on his arms. Though the rubbing stopped as her eyes softened. Her hands slid upward past his biceps, past his shoulders, then cupped his jaw, one palm on either side.

“Thank you, Philip. For saving Rusty. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.”

She leaned in and brushed her lips across his. He stilled completely. Even his shivering ceased, immobilized by the sweetness of her kiss. It lasted only a heartbeat, but something shifted inside of him. Something momentous. His brain was too numb to rationalize the significance of what had occurred, but that didn’t stop him from recognizing that something had occurred.

Letty Hood had just reached inside his chest and etched her name into his heart.