23. Kat

TWENTY-THREE

Kat

Chores didn't wait for life to catch up.

Winter was coming, and we had to get the cattle into the near field for the upcoming snow storm—the first of the season. Gabe and I rode out to the edges of the property on Shadow and Sundance as clouds gathered, gray and looming.

"Head 'em up, Bandit!" I hollered, the dog's bark bouncing off the trees and echoing back. Gabe was on the other side of the herd, his silhouette etched against the graying sky, a sure sign that the first snow wasn't far off. We'd sent Livy over to a friend's house again; I didn't want her getting stuck out here when she had school tomorrow.

"Almost there," I called out to him over the lowing cattle. This was the most difficult part of the journey—getting cattle away from the edge of the river that bordered our property. It was normally shallow enough not to be dangerous, but a recent rainfall had made it surge.

Just in time for winter.

Great .

"Easy now," I murmured to Sundance, my hand firm on the reins. The horse shifted beneath me, sensing my urgency.

"Kat, watch that calf on your left!" Gabe pointed out, voice raised just enough to carry over the noise.

"Got it," I answered, steering Sundance toward the straggler. Bandit was already there, nipping at its heels, guiding it back to the group.

"Good boy," I praised the dog, watching as the calf scampered to catch up with its mother.

"Last push," Gabe said, tipping his hat back. "Let's get them home."

"Come on, girls," I encouraged, feeling the familiar adrenaline of the final drive.

And then, chaos.

A sharp crack split the air, louder than thunder, closer than comfort. Birds erupted from the tree line in a feathery explosion. The cattle's heads shot up, their bodies tensed.

At first, I thought it was another gunshot…and I guess Sundance felt the same way. I'd trained her well, but we were both more easily spooked these days.

Shit .

"Stampede!" My yell was almost drowned by the cacophony of hooves. Panic spread, the cattle wheeling into a frenzied mass.

"Kat, get clear!" Gabe's warning cut through the tumult.

"Trying!" But the cattle were everywhere, a sea of brown and black fur, eyes wide with fear. Dust billowed, clogging my throat, stinging my eyes.

"Bandit, come!" I couldn't lose the dog in this madness.

The river was a roar in my ears now, the cattle's cries a soundtrack to disaster. I pulled on the reins, heart hammering, trying to steer Sundance away from the chaos.

"Easy, Sundance!" I coaxed, but my voice was a thin thread against the thunder of hooves.

She danced beneath me, muscles taut, ready to bolt. We'd been through rough patches before, but nothing like this. The ground shook. They were too close, the cattle's frenzied breaths hot on our heels.

"Go, go, go!" I urged, but Sundance hesitated, her instincts warring with her training.

"Kat, watch out!" Gabe's shout was almost lost in the turmoil.

Then, Sundance reared.

Her silhouette cut a stark shape against the chaos—the sky leaden, heavy with the threat of snow.

"Whoa!"

My grip tightened on the reins, but it was too late.

Her forelegs flailed, searching for purchase they couldn't find…

"Damn—" The world tilted. My stomach dropped. I was falling, the icy shock of water enveloping me.

"Kat!" Gabe's voice was somewhere far away, muffled by the rush of water around me.

I hit the river, cold biting at my skin, my breath punched from my lungs. The current yanked me from Sundance's side, and all I could do was fight to surface, fight to breathe.

I broke the surface, gasping for air, mouth filling with water before I could scream. My hands clawed at nothing—then something solid. Wood. A branch, half-submerged and slick. I grabbed it, fingers slipping, arms burning.

"Help!" The word was a wet cough, more river than voice.

I kicked, trying to find ground that wasn't there. The river didn't care. It dragged at me, greedy, wanting to pull me under.

"Kat!" Gabe's shout again, closer now, but not close enough.

The branch dipped, my grip tenuous. I couldn't feel my legs, numb from the icy bite. Panic clawed up my throat, threatening to choke me.

"Stay on!" I hissed to myself, jaw clenched.

Water surged, higher, angry. I blinked against the stinging cold. My chest ached with each breath.

"Kat!"

Gabe's voice was a lifeline, but I couldn't reach out, couldn't let go of the branch.

The river roared in my ears, mocking. Time stretched, every second an eternity. How long could I hold on?

How long until my fingers slipped, until the cold made me just another piece of debris?

"Kat, hang on!"

Easier said than done. My muscles screamed, my resolve wavered. But giving up wasn't in my nature. I had to survive this—I had to. For the ranch, for Livy.

I'd fought too hard to let go now.

"Kat! Give me your hand!"

But could I reach him before the river claimed me? Could I keep fighting the relentless pull?

"Almost…" My voice trailed off.

I had to hang on. I just had to.