He should have hung back this morning to be sure they weren’t followed. He folded his hands and bowed his head. “Lord,” he whispered, “protect Darby. Keep her safe. Bring her back to me. I promise I’ll never leave her. I’ll love her for all she is, a beautiful woman, a child of God.” He blinked to clear his vision and swallowed hard.

Shhhhhhhhh.

He looked up.

The sound came again. The shuffling of hay.

Bram’s pulse quickened. It could be an animal. Or . . .

“Bram.” A whispered voice, little more than exhaled air.

Bram jerked upright, winced from the pain, and scanned the interior of the barn.

“Bram, help me.”

His heart jackhammered in his chest. “Darby?” he whispered back.

“Over here.”

Thank You, Lord. Praise Jesus. He stood and gingerly moved toward the door leading to the horse stalls. “Darby?”

“Here.”

She had to be in the stall area. He hurried, trying to ignore his shoulder. The horse stalls were in darkness. “Darby?”

Something smashed into the back of his head. Blackness.

*  *  *

The mule chose this moment to try to dislodge me. He bolted toward the horses, kicking as he went. I clung to the rigging, hoping he wouldn’t dump me before we reached the fence.

He finally stopped at the fence line. I couldn’t see any gate, so I put plan B in motion. I dismounted on a shaky leg and looped the twine over the top rail. The horses had gathered and were checking out the newcomer. I removed one of the twine reins, slid through the fence, then stopped.

The Appaloosa I’d ridden to Mae’s place was here.

“Hello again, big fella.” I patted him on the shoulder, then wrapped the twine around his neck and led him to the fence. After slipping back through the rails, I removed the rigging from the mule along with the halter, then quickly returned to the pasture side, placed the halter on the Appy, and held tight. As expected, the mule took off, kicking up to celebrate his freedom, and the rest of the herd followed on their side of the fence. The Appy pranced in place, wanting to join in the romp. I untied him, grabbed a hunk of mane, and leaped to his back. He didn’t need encouragement. Ears back, he joined in the race.

I held on to him with my legs, bent forward over his neck to keep a low profile, and tied the twine into a loop. I hoped I wouldn’t have to hold on long when I dropped to his side. The herd had reached the fence nearest the lodge. Keeping low, I guided the big gelding to the gate. Someone was moving away from the barn.