Free Rustled by Natasha Stories Page B

couldn’t see it. Clear as
water and lying under drifting snow, it was deadly. My front tires had hit a
patch and I was in the ditch before I could react. Trapped there, dying, until
Russ rescued me. Russ, who warmed me, fed me and cared for my hypothermia.
Russ, who somehow got under my guard and made me want him. Russ, who awakened
passion I didn’t know lurked within me, wild child and wanton woman that I was.
Russ, who was soon to turn me out into the world, with no one, no money, no
experience, and no hope. And whose story of my rescue just didn’t add up.
    This thinking,
as he reminded me, was getting me in big trouble, for there was nothing to do
but cry over my plight, and then he would force me to tell him why. I held back
my tears fiercely.
    Finally,
appearing out of the fog and mist, a huge gate with an ironwork sign at the
top. Rocking W Ranch, it proclaimed. Not very original, in my opinion, but
whoever had commissioned that sign was proud of it. Incorporated into its
ornate scrolls were not only the name, but an elk, a mountain, a stream and a
herd of cattle. I gaped at it like a country girl in a street full of
skyscrapers.
    “Welcome to
the Rockin’ Dub-ya,” Russ said.
    I had nothing
to say, because whatever I said would either come out sarcastic, like, ‘nice
sign’, or would be a plaintive question about what happened next. I didn’t want
to think about that. Russ had a plan, or so I thought, and I would just go
along with it until I found myself somewhere else, without him to lean on. But,
before I left, I was going to ask my burning question. If it took us nearly
three hours to get to the ranch from the cabin by road, how the hell had he
done it in two on a horse?
    Russ drove the
pickup around to the back of a very large house that I couldn’t see well
because it was too close and I was on the wrong side of the pickup. He left the
truck running while he went into a door that looked like it split in half like
an old-fashioned farmhouse door. In a moment, back he came, with another
blanket and a big-bodied older woman on his heels, apparently giving him an
earful. I waited with trepidation for whatever was to happen.
    §
    “…I swear
you’re gonna be the death of me, we didn’t know whether you were dead or
alive.” The woman’s tirade must have been about Russ’s disappearance, but as
soon as she saw me, her demeanor changed completely. “You dear, sweet girl,
Russ says you almost died out there. He’s gonna carry you into the kitchen
there, and I’ll keep you warm while we figure out what to do with you. Are you
hungry?”
    It was too
much to process all at once, especially when Russ swept me up into strong arms
that carried me with ease, as he had from the cabin to the pickup. I had
confirmation now that he could do it. It was one more thing that split my
opinion neatly into two opposing sides. On the one hand, being carried by Russ
was a little slice of heaven, and I would gladly have let him carry me to the
ends of the earth. On the other hand, how did it fit his rescue story? I wasn’t
too clear on it, now. Maybe he would tell me again. Or tell this woman,
whatever her name was.
    “Kitten, this
is Janet, our cook. She’ll take care of you for awhile.” He gave no explanation
of where he was going, what he would be doing or when he would be back. And,
with Janet looking on, I was too shy to ask. What if she guessed that he and I
had been far too familiar during our ordeal?
    Janet was
bustling back and forth in the kitchen, while I stayed where Russ had deposited
me, sitting on one hard wooden chair, with my feet propped up on another. In a
moment, she disappeared briefly and then came back with a pillow for my back,
most welcome to soften the wooden slats, and a cozy afghan that she put around
my bare feet, completing the cocoon she had started with the fresh blanket at
the truck.
    “Now, dear,
how do you like your tea?” Janet asked.
    “Um, I’m not
sure,” I said in a