24. Gabe

TWENTY-FOUR

Gabe

Kat's foot slipped.

She tilted.

Then…a slow-motion nightmare, arms pinwheeling before she crashed into the river.

All I could do was watch.

"Kat!" My voice was lost over the roar of water and cattle.

Panic surged like the river. The cattle bolted past, dust clouds billowing. They headed to safer ground, instincts kicking in hard. But Kat…she was my focus.

Bandit shot through the chaos, barking, fur streaked with mud. He skidded to a halt by the river, his bark sharp, urgent.

"Stay with her, boy!" I shouted, guiding Shadow toward the riverside.

Shadow stayed calm despite the madness; we'd worked with him a lot, and it was starting to show. We neared the river, Kat clinging to a branch and struggling against the relentless flow.

"Almost there," I muttered to myself, leaning forward in the saddle.

Then… snap.

The branch broke.

And the river claimed her.

"Shadow, move!" I shouted.

I spurred him on, our pace matching the river's tempo. We had to catch up before the fence at the property line stopped us—half a mile of cold dread stretched out ahead.

Sundance and Bandit seemed just as committed to saving her as I did. Sundance galloped alongside Shadow, while Bandit raced ahead, barking to keep me updated on Kat's location. It was as if they knew that their person was in danger and were desperate to help.

I couldn't lose her.

The thought hit me harder than the wind against my face. This was no longer about the ranch or duty. Kat meant more to me than I'd ever let myself admit. She'd slipped into my life like she'd slipped into the river, upending everything.

"Stay with me, Kat!" I yelled, not sure if she could hear me over the roar.

My world had started to revolve around her—her tough spirit, her wry smile even on the hardest days. Now, watching her wrestle with the current, every moment without her felt like an eternity ticking by.

"Come on!" I urged Shadow forward.

We had to make it. We had to save Kat.

Then, a moment of sheer luck—Kat's wild journey downstream came to a sudden stop. She grabbed onto the root of a tree, her body jerking as the current fought to drag her away. For now, she clung on, safe for a precious few seconds.

"Good girl," I muttered under my breath, relief flooding through me. "Hang on."

I didn't think. Didn't plan. I just acted. Shadow hadn't even fully stopped when I vaulted from his back. My boots slammed into the ground, and I ran toward her, every step pounding out an urgent rhythm.

"Kat!" My voice was rough with fear.

She looked up, her eyes wide with panic and the fight to stay alive. The embankment loomed before me—a steep drop to the water's edge. I didn't hesitate. I scaled down, half sliding, half stumbling in my haste, dirt and rocks cascading around me.

"Give me your hand!" I stretched out my arm.

Her fingers were pale, and when they met mine, the chill of her skin cut through me. A shiver that had nothing to do with the temperature shot through my body, a warning of how close we were to disaster.

"Got you," I said, gripping her hand tight.

"Gabe—" Her voice broke off as she coughed, her other hand still clinging to the root.

"Focus on me," I ordered, unwilling to let the fear take hold. "Nothing else. Just me."

I knew then that I'd do anything to get her to safety, to feel her warmth again. This wasn't just about rescue.

It was about saving something irreplaceable.

I pulled with everything I had, muscles straining until finally she was free from the river's grip. Sputtering, she sagged against me, drenched and shivering so hard her teeth chattered.

She was alive.

I had to hold onto that.

I hauled her back up to the bank, knowing now that time was of the essence; fluffy gray clouds were gathering, signaling the coming snow. Bandit edged closer, whining, his wet nose nudging her hand. He licked at her fingers, his own way of checking on her. "Good boy," I grunted.

Kat's breaths came out in short, frigid puffs. It wasn't over yet. Not even close.

I turned to Shadow, who had followed us down. His eyes were wide but steady. I unbuckled his saddle quickly, my fingers clumsy, and pulled it off to haul it over to drape over Sundance.

Then I spread the saddle blanket on the ground, thick and heavy. I lifted Kat onto it, her clothes soaked through and useless against the cold, then I wrapped her up in it.

"Got to get you warm," I muttered, rubbing my hands up and down her arms in an attempt to stimulate some heat.

"Thank you," she managed.

"Quiet now. Save your strength."

Her nod was slight, almost imperceptible, but I felt it.

And in that moment, it was enough.

"Need to get back to the house before the snowstorm," I said. "Get you safe."

I lifted Kat against me, her body shivering, and I put her on the horse before I mounted Shadow in one fluid motion. I could feel her trying to hold on, the fight still in her despite the cold that was trying to claim her. Sundance fell into step beside us without a nudge, her instincts kicking in.

"Stay awake," I told Kat, low and urgent. Time was running out before nightfall, the world painted in shades of gray. "Talk to me."

"Trying," she whispered, voice barely there.

"Good."

Simple praise, but it was all we had time for.