Washed Away

“Hal, one of my young firefighters, is trying to keep his mind on the job, but he’s got a wife and five-day-old baby at home. They live a few miles out of Turning Point.”

“Poor guy,” Cheryl murmured. “No doubt he’s worried how they’re coping.”

“Not only that,” Mitch continued, “they’ve got a seven year old, as well, and apparently he’s fallen over and hurt his arm. Beth, Hal’s wife, reckons that the arm could be broken. That’s why she called Hal, to see what she should do. The roads are too bad to be driving with a sick child and a new baby, but the little guy’s in too much pain just to be left. Now, a firefighter with his mind wandering is the last thing I need today. If I can tell Hal that you’re going out to check on them, it would put his mind at rest. I’ve called the weather bureau again, and they’re still adamant I’ve got nothing to worry about. And even if my hunch is right, by all reports, nothing much is going to go down for a few hours yet.”

“I’d be happy to go,” Cheryl assured him, already packing her backpack with the equipment she would need to deal with the little boy’s arm as Mitch gave her directions and a map. “I might as well see a bit of Texas while I’m here.”

“Well, no stopping to get postcards,” Mitch laughed, carrying on the joke. “I want you straight back here.” He handed her a massive navy waterproof jacket, which Cheryl accepted gratefully. “All the fire vehicles are in use,” he told her as they ventured outside.

The rain lashed at her cheeks, the wind catching in her throat, and it took an effort just to walk the short distance to the large dark Jeep parked across the street at the side of the fire station.

“You can use this,” Mitch shouted, wrenching open the door and none-too gently pushing Cheryl inside.

“Whose is it?” Cheryl asked.

“It’s my personal vehicle.” Leaning over he pulled open the glove compartment to reveal a large stash of candy. “Help yourself, but save me a few.”

She fiddled with the controls for a moment, checking the gears and the wipers.

“That’s the demister,” Mitch pointed out, unwrapping a candy and popping it into his mouth. “I reckon you’ll be needing it, and you’d better get some gas, too,” he added, looking at the gauge. “There’s a station just down the road.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out some bills and handed them to Cheryl.

“Is gas more expensive in Texas?” Cheryl asked with a wry smile. Mitch had given her enough cash to fill the jeep ten times over.

“Nope.” Mitch grinned. “But I’ve just realized that we’re low on one essential—chocolate.”

“Very essential,” Cheryl agreed.

“Get as much as you can when you get the gas, Cheryl. I admit to having a sweet tooth, but it’s also a great pick-me-up for the crews.”

“And a good bribery tool for the kids,” Cheryl added. “I’ll keep a bar in my pocket for my house call.”

“You’re sure you don’t mind doing this on your own?” Mitch said. “If I could spare anyone, I’d send them out with you. I don’t really like the idea of you out there on your…”

“I can read a map, Mitch.” Starting the engine, she waited as Mitch stepped back. Then, after taking a final moment to familiarize herself with the controls, she waved to the fire chief and drove off into the lashing rain.

She found the gas station easily. Jumping down, Cheryl huddled inside the waterproof jacket. Mitch had been right. Her hospital scrubs and flimsy linen jacket would have been less than useless in these conditions. Dashing across the pavement, she ran into the small shop, groaning inwardly when she saw the lineup. Everyone was clearly out on a last-minute spree, stocking up on batteries and flashlights. Cheryl grabbed the last basket, filling it with chocolates before joining the line to pay. Just for the hell of it, she reached over and picked up a couple of postcards.

CHAPTER TWO

“SETTLE DOWN, GUYS.” Noah Arkin shouted above the stamping feet and whinnying coming from the back of his van. “Just the gas to get, then only one more stop at the fire station and we can finally head for home.”

His words had no effect, but then Noah hadn’t really expected them to. Still, it didn’t stop him from trying. The truck was jammed with medical equipment, cages and animals. He’d only gone out to drop supplies off to Mitch and should have been back at his clinic ages ago, but as usual, he’d been delayed. No way could he drive by his patients’ homes without checking that they and their owners were okay. Of course he’d ended up battening down hatches and offering to evacuate people’s pets to his clinic so their owners would have one less thing to worry about during the storm.

The last two days had been hell. Sure, farmers knew how best to prepare for a storm. They’d been through it often enough, after all, and this was their livelihood they were protecting, but there was still a lot of work for Noah: updating immunizations, helping ranchers move cattle to safer pastures. Unlike Mitch, who was dealing with the two-legged specimens, once the storm really took hold, Noah could sleep—crash in the little studio apartment attached to his clinic and catch up on some rest before the real work started. The worst time for veterinarians came after the storm. Apart from the inevitable casualties and missing animals, the power lines would be down and the water levels up, hindering rescue efforts.

But instead of being at home, Noah thought, stifling a yawn then raking a hand through his damp brown hair, instead of catching up on some rest, he still had the supplies to drop off and a van full of pets to sort out.

He had to toughen up.

Filling up the truck at the main station in town, Noah listened as the animals kicked at the side of his vehicle, the howls and barks growing louder now. As if he didn’t have enough to do already without taking this bunch on. As if he didn’t have enough to organize without acting as an unpaid baby-sitter for half of Turning Point’s pets. And it would be unpaid, Noah knew that for sure. But the money side didn’t worry him. His ranching clients provided his real bread-and-butter. The pets that had found their way into the back of his van were the jam on top.

Literally!

After the storm passed, he’d have umpteen more jars of jam to line his already heaving cupboards and enough farm eggs to start his own store.

No, it wasn’t money that was the problem, it was time.

Over and over, that very precious commodity seemed to slip away from him. But how could he say no to Mrs. Gessop when she asked him to look after her budgerigar, and how could he tell Old Mary that her beloved, overweight and extremely spoilt miniature horse Georgina was the very last thing he needed to deal with right now?

He couldn’t.

Schmuck! That should be his middle name. Pulling the nozzle out, Noah replaced the gas cap before running into the shop.

Noah Schmuck Arkin.

Jeez, Noah thought, looking at the long lineup in the store, he’d be in here for ages.

He eyed the basket of the customer in front of him, then did a double take. The basket was almost bursting with every type of chocolate and candy bar available. Someone clearly didn’t believe in rationing! And the woman was idly reading postcards as if she had all the time in the world. But there was something else about her that caught Noah’s attention. Something that made her stand apart from the rest of the people in the lineup. A certain aloofness that held him entranced.

She was tall, too.

Okay, Noah admitted, he liked tall women, and since he was six foot four himself, it wasn’t hard to see why. But it wasn’t just her height that made her stand out. It wasn’t even the appalling baggy clothes she wore. Something told him that under that hideous jacket was a well-toned body. She carried herself regally, her back as straight as a ballet dancer’s. And even though her long dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail, the lush heavy locks, wet from the rain, were straining to escape.

His eyes flicked down to her hands. They were well-groomed, he noted, the nails neat, not too long, an immaculate French polish the perfect touch.

She was, quite simply, beautiful.

“Just the gas, Noah?” Bill asked, seeing the bulging basket of the mystery woman, who was now at the counter, and rudely shouting over her.

Normally Noah would have shaken his head, said something along the lines of “No rush, Bill. Go ahead and serve the lady first.”

And she certainly was a lady, Noah decided as she turned her head and he got a glimpse of velvety brown eyes framed with dark lashes, full dark lips pursing in indignation as he stepped forward to pay. Noah felt his heart skip into overdrive, his brain processing a million details in an instant. Take away the working man’s clothes, take away the heavy boots, and underneath he knew, just knew, she was all woman.

All woman, a certain piece of his anatomy confirmed. But even if she was the most gorgeous woman to hit Turning Point in as long as he could remember, even if Bill’s offer to serve him first could throw him an opening line here, Mother Nature was the only woman who could be on Noah’s mind today.

He needed to out of here.

“Thanks, Bill,” Noah said, handing over his money. “Thanks,” he repeated to the woman, giving her an apologetic smile. And he waited—waited for a shrug, a wide Texas smile and an easy “No problem.” Instead she was frowning, two vertical lines forming on the bridge of a deliciously snubbed nose. “I’m the local vet,” he offered by way of explanation, but her frown only deepened.

“Gotta look after the animals,” Bill chimed in, handing over Noah’s change. “Especially with the storm coming.”

“Oh, sure!” Chocolate Girl bristled. “Don’t mind me.”

Even Bill started at her confident New York accent and almost menacing velvet eyes. “I’m only here to look out for the humans.”

Geesh!

Looks and attitude.

For a second, Noah found himself intrigued. He wanted to prolong the conversation, to see those angry lips move again, to catch another glimpse of those delicious eyes and find out just what this woman was doing in Turning Point. A reporter perhaps? Yeah, that seemed to fit. There were always reporters sniffing around for a story in a crisis. They’d be focusing on the human aspect of the storm, filling a lull in the hard news with some sixty-second human interest story. Noah could certainly picture the camera loving this woman.

But as stunning as she might be, Noah wasn’t about to be spoken down to. “Hey, thanks for being so understanding,” he shot back as he took his change from Bill. Even though his sarcasm was delivered with a wide smile, her frown deepened and he knew he’d ruffled her feathers.

“I’m not,” she bristled, turning around to face him full-on.

If the side view had held Noah entranced, looking directly into her face took his breath away.

She was gorgeous.

Seriously so.

“I know you’re not,” Noah replied in a clipped tone. As gorgeous as she was, her stern gaze had him recovering quickly, and despite his earlier interest, Noah changed his mind. Even if time had allowed, he had no desire to have to justify his work to some uptight city babe who simply didn’t get it—The ringing of his cell phone saved him from thinking up a smart reply, and he chose to move to the relative quiet of the back of the store as Bill unloaded Chocolate Girl’s basket.

“Calm down, Jack.” Noah’s firm voice had the whole store turning to look at him. “No, stay the hell out of the stable. You’ll get yourself killed if you go in while he’s like that. I need you to calm down and tell me just how badly injured he is….”

Everything moved in slow motion for a moment, Bill’s hands running up the total on the till, his eyes trained on Noah, the locals in the lineup holding their breath and hoping that somehow they’d got it wrong, that somehow they were misinterpreting the one-sided conversation. Jack and Sara had pooled everything on the prize stallion, a shining light in their tough times. He couldn’t be going crazy in a stable on the other side of town, badly injured.

“I’ll come now….” Noah said, trying to calm Jack down, to keep the note of fear out of his own voice. And it was genuine fear. A brute of an animal deranged with terror in a confined space wasn’t the ideal combination. His voice trailed off as Jack made his decision, the toughest of calls, and handed the phone over to his wife.

The stallion might be a brute of an animal, but its legs were as fragile as glass, and from Jack’s description, the fracture he had sustained was beyond repair.

Closing his eyes, blocking out the watching audience, Noah listened intently, his voice softer when he spoke next. “I’m right here, Sara. You just make sure Jack’s safe in there….”

There was a long pause. And even though no one in the store heard the shot, everyone knew what had happened. Running a hand over his forehead, Noah spoke again, his voice deep, calm and reassuring.

“I’m sorry, buddy, really sorry. And I know it won’t help now, but you know that you did the right thing.”

Maybe he was out of line, but at that moment Noah was hurting. He wanted to lash out at someone, and it was Chocolate Girl’s eyes that met his as he snapped the phone closed and replaced it in his pocket.

“Oh, well.” He gave a shrug. “I guess it was only a horse.”

MAYBE HE’D BEEN too harsh.

Okay, Noah conceded as he leaned against the truck and took a few deep breaths, he had been harsh. It wasn’t her fault if she didn’t understand how much animals really mattered here in Turning Point. He’d had no right to imply she didn’t give a damn.

She probably didn’t, though, Noah thought, but without malice now. How could anyone, unless they lived on the land, understand the delicate balance between man and beast; contemplate that without the animals, Turning Point would be a virtual ghost town. Sure, there was agriculture, acre after acre of rich soil providing vital crops, but the animals were the beat of the land.

Climbing into his van, he started the engine, watching as the woman ran across the pavement, her long limbs breaking into an effortless sprint as if she were some beautiful thoroughbred. Her long dark ponytail streaming behind her, she held the plastic bags to her chest as if they contained some sort of treasure, and Noah held back the sudden urge to climb out and run over to her, to apologize for his behavior. But what would be the point? he reasoned, pulling away from the pumps and signaling right, glancing in his rearview mirror and seeing her blinker indicating left. No doubt she’d forgotten the whole incident by now and was driving off to wherever the action was, off to report on other people’s misery….

“Hey, Madge.” He smiled as his faithful old dog nuzzled at his hand for a stroke. Dark eyes stared back at him—endearing eyes, but not nearly as endearing as the woman who had just breezed in and out of his life and whirled up a ministorm of her own. His cell phone was ringing again and Noah forcibly pushed the image of Chocolate Girl out of his mind; he had enough to be getting on with today without daydreaming about some woman he’d barely said two words to. That thought was further confirmed as he put the call on to Speaker, frowning as the anxious voice of another usually laid-back farmer filled the van, intermittent bleeps indicating that yet another caller was trying to get through….

And a feeling that had been creeping up for a couple of hours now took hold of Noah. Gripping the steering wheel as he drove into town, he wished he possessed some sort of virtual dream catcher, something that could trap the uneasy thoughts that were flooding his mind now, quash the fears that were starting to take hold….

…halt an approaching nightmare.

“HEY, NOAH!” Mitch Kannon came running over as Noah started to unload the equipment. “Been picking up a few strays on your travels?”

“I wish.” Noah shrugged, but his moment of self-pity was wasted on Mitch Kannon. The fire chief would be in no mood to hear about some stranger Noah had almost met in a gas station. A stranger who Noah simply couldn’t quite manage to push out of his thoughts. There was something about her that had him enthralled, something about her elusiveness that served to drag him in. Sure, she hadn’t exactly been endearing, hadn’t exactly bowled him over with her charm. And yet…

“Is business so bad that you need to pick up strays?” Mitch asked with a grin.

“I’m driving with blinkers on from now on,” Noah admitted. “Strays are the last thing I need right now.”

“Trouble?” Mitch asked perceptively, helping Noah unload the van and carry the equipment into the building.

“I took a call from Jack Sawyer half an hour ago.”

“And?”

“Had to listen as he put a bullet through Blaze….”

“What?” Mitch shook his head, genuinely appalled at the news.

“There was nothing I could do—he’d gone crazy, taken fright and fractured his leg. It was a severe fracture. Even if I’d been there, I don’t doubt for a second that the outcome would have been the same. Jack had no choice. It was the humane thing to do. Must have hurt like hell, though,” he added as they headed back to the van, unloading the last of the supplies. The animals caged in the back made frantic noises.

“They’re pretty worked up,” Mitch commented as a loud thud sounded against the side of the van, causing the fire chief to jump.

“You should try driving with them,” Noah said, heaving the last of the supplies out of the truck and following Mitch back to the station. “Either it’s the mother of all storms about to hit Corpus Christi, or the predictions are wrong and it’s heading this way!”

It had been a joke—sort of.

Mitch set the large box he carried down onto the floor inside the station. Noah did the same.

“You’re well set up,” Noah said, staring around the room.

“It wasn’t me.” Mitch shrugged. “The team from California are efficient to say the least, and believe me, right now, I’m more than happy that I sent for reinforcements when I did.” He took a deep breath. “What makes you think the storm could be heading this way, Noah?” Mitch’s voice was serious, his question delivered in his usual direct way with not a hint of scorn attached, which told Noah his concerns were being taken seriously.

“The animals are going crazy,” Noah said. “I know that’s not much to go on. I mean, they always get upset by storms, and I’m used to them acting weird at times for no reason, but you should hear them back at the clinic, Mitch. They’re climbing the cages, pacing like crazy. Look at what’s just happened to Blaze, and it’s not only him. I’ve had a couple more farmers calling to tell me the animals are starting to panic. They’re acting just as they did last time a big storm headed this way.”

“It’s not heading this way, though.” Mitch shook his head.

His voice was firm, but something in his eyes told Noah that the chief didn’t believe his own words.

“I’ve just been on to the weather bureau, and they’re still convinced it’s heading for Corpus Christi.”

“Still convinced? So you’ve already been on to the bureau and told them that you’re worried.” When Mitch didn’t answer, Noah persisted. “Which means you’re thinking along the same lines as me, doesn’t it.”

“Yep.”

“Damn, we’ve got the school filling with evacuees from Corpus Christi, we’ve got busloads still heading in….”

“And my daughter’s out there.”

Mitch never played the emotion card, and seeing the chief’s worried eyes, Noah felt as if he had been hit in the chest with an iron fist.

“What do you want me to do, Mitch?” Noah respected Mitch, and if there was anything he could do to help, then Noah would do it. “Do you want me to call the bureau, tell them how the animals are reacting?”

He half expected Mitch to laugh, to tell him that the bureau wasn’t about to listen to some veterinarian with a half-baked idea that his animals were talking to him, but when Mitch gave a worried nod, Noah’s heart sank.

“It’s worth a try.”

It took forever for Noah to get through. No doubt half of Turning Point was trying to contact the bureau, as well. These people knew their land, knew the shifts in the weather. They’d been through enough hurricanes and floods to know when trouble was in the air, and it was in the air now, Noah could feel it. The rain was pelting down and the wind howled angrily; even inside the fire station Noah was forced to shout into the phone just to be heard.

“What did they say?” Mitch asked as Noah replaced the receiver in its cradle.

“That by their calculations we’ve got nothing to worry about. That we’re to carry on with the evacuation protocol as outlined.”

“Damn!” Mitch banged his fist down on the desk in exasperation. “We’re like sitting ducks. The storm’s getting worse by the minute, I’ve got teams out there doing rescues. I’ve even had an emergency team flown in to the area, when I should have been getting everyone the hell out. I’ve sent them on rescues—”

“You didn’t know at the time the storm was heading this way,” Noah said. “We still don’t know for sure, Mitch.” Taking a couple of breaths, he willed himself to stay calm. There was no point losing their heads. “We still don’t,” Noah said again, but more firmly this time, and Mitch nodded back, his face taut with tension but back in full control now.

“Noah, I know your animals mean everything to you. And I know that at times like this you’re supposed to be at the clinic….”

“They’re not humans, Mitch.” Noah knew what was coming. He loved his animals and his old house that was attached to the sparkling modern clinic he had built from the ground up. The veterinary clinic was his life. Every waking moment of his day was filled with caring for animals. But he was highly skilled and trained in medical procedures, and if he and Mitch were right and the storm was heading this way, then Noah knew that his skills would be put to better use right here in town.

Saving human lives.

“I’m going back to the clinic, Mitch. I’ll secure the animals that I’ve got in the van and make sure the rest are okay, then I’ll lock up and come straight back to town.”

“I hate to ask this of you, Noah.”

“You didn’t ask.” Noah gave a wry smile. “I offered. Let’s just hope I’m not needed. Let’s just hope we’re both worrying about nothing.”

“Let’s hope, huh?”

Noah was running toward the exit now, racing to get back to the clinic and tend to the animals so he could return to town and help. But something stopped him at the door, a feeling he couldn’t identify.

“What’s up, Noah?” Mitch asked, coming over to him.

Noah stood there, eyeing the rows of equipment all neatly set up, and the sense of foreboding that had niggled now, churned his stomach.

“If you didn’t know the area, Mitch, didn’t know just how bad the storms and floods can be here, what would you do?”

“Find out the hard way, I guess.” Mitch started to joke, but when he realized Noah was serious, he changed tack. “There’re announcements every few minutes on the radio, Noah. I’ve got teams out there guiding people to the evacuation centers. Even if you didn’t know the area, you’d soon figure out what was coming and find somewhere safe.”

“I guess so.”

“What’s on your mind, Noah?” Mitch asked.

“I don’t know.” Noah gave a shrug, embarrassed to find Mitch eying him with concern. How could he explain to this down-to-earth guy this strange fear that seemed to be clutching his heart?

It wasn’t just his belief there was a storm heading this way that was making him feel so edgy. He thought of those velvet brown eyes that had held his for a moment in time.

Chocolate Girl was out there in a town that was turning more dangerous by the minute, and for reasons he couldn’t rationalize even to himself, it terrified the hell out of him.

CHAPTER THREE

“I’M THE LOCAL VET!” Pulling a face, Cheryl did a pale imitation of Noah’s voice as she drove angrily along. Even with a few miles safely between them, she was still stinging from the encounter at the gas station, still smarting from the local vet’s remarks as well as her own part in the exchange. She wished she could hit the rewind button on that awful conversation. Why hadn’t she just turned and said “No problem” when Dr. Perfect jumped the queue?