Page 16 of Last Chance Cowboy
So if she could just be still as she used her upper body to try to pull herself out…
She moved another inch. It was ridiculously hard work. She had a feeling that the mud had also cushioned her from being crushed, but that it was part of why it was so difficult now, particularly with the weight of the rocks on top.
She wiggled and wiggled, and finally, after what seemed like more than an hour of trying, after the sky had become completely black, no stars visible through the thick clouds, she managed to pull herself free.
She scrambled to her feet and immediately went down. Her ankle was definitely sprained. She didn’t think broken, because she had been able to put her weight on it, at least for a moment. Not that she knew anything about broken bones. But it felt… Not good. And there was no way she was going to be able to figure out where to go in the darkness. She was off the trail, that much she could be certain about.
She didn’t have her phone, which meant she had no flashlight. She was so far from where she had started, and she had no idea how to get back. Scrambling up the embankment in the dark was not a good idea. That much she knew. Because she was aware enough to realize that none of that was stable right now, even though it hadn’t been raining for a few hours.
She was freezing. Her legs were scraped and dirty, and her ankle hurt.
She collapsed, back against the embankment, knees pulled up to her chest, and she started to cry. She could only be thankful that it was summer. That even though she was cold, it was probably sixty degrees. She wasn’t going to get hypothermia. She wasn’t going to die from the elements.
Shewasn’t.
In the morning, she would be able to see where she was. She would be able to figure out how to get out.
It was just… she was going to be spending the night in the wilderness. That much was clear now, and she hadn’t even really wanted to spend a few hours in the wilderness.
Exhaustion bled through her. She leaned back, her shoulder sagging. Her eyes began to close voluntarily.
Maybe she was dying.
Maybe this was her punishment for trying to do something even a little bit adventurous.
Maybe she wasn’t allowed to.
Maybe she wasn’t allowed to have a life at all.
Maybe her life would only ever be weird illicit fantasies about a man she had never even had a real conversation with that lasted more than five minutes, and cross-country moves, the beginnings of a successful business.
No family of her own. No life of her own, not really.
Three months of freedom, and still stained by grief.
Still affected by the loss of her mother.
No freedom. No hope. Nothing new.
Tears slid down her cheeks, and she slept.
It was a jagged, uneven sleep, but her distress and her physical exertion had left her entirely drained.
It wasn’t until she heard a deep masculine voice calling her name that she stirred. She had to be hallucinating. She couldn’t break herself out of her sleep, but she heard her name, over and over again.
“Cara!”
She heard pounding, and she had no idea what that could be. At first, for a moment, she thought maybe somebody was pounding on her bedroom door. But she wasn’t in her bedroom. She was on the ground, and her whole body hurt.
She was outside.
Her eyes popped open. “I’m here,” she said.
Her voice was so weak. She could barely get a sound out.
“Cara!”
“Here!” She croaked just a little bit louder, but it was enough. It was enough.
