Washed Away

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.