Summon Toren(7)

But something in her bones propelled her to hope. She'd never given up without a fight yet, and had no intention of starting, so she would keep trying until it was all over.

Before heading out to the crew, Sam checked the weather again and that sick knot grew into a full-fledged panic. The coming storm was a monster, with heavy snow fall and lethal temperatures for at least five days before it began to taper off. Even now, the radar showed light snow beginning to fall in the area.

Five minutes on the phone confirmed that every male in the vicinity had caught Joe’s Spartan disease and thought himself invincible, refusing the vaccine. The vast majority were down with flu epidemic still sweeping the area. The news meant all her neighbors were in the same boat. With no spare hands to be had, every cow in the region was at risk.

Her glance landed on the laptop again, praying it provided their way out.

“I’ll come with you,” Kassie called from the kitchen.

“No, stay here and get everything ready you can.” With no time to lose, she headed out to check on the crew. Any man able to move would have to suck it up.

The icy wind stole Sam's breath between the house and the bunkhouse where most of the crew preferred to live as they would have in the heyday of ranching. The C-Bar bunkhouse consisted of a central common area with four shared rooms spaced around it. Only the married foreman chose to live separately.

She paused at the door long enough to knock loudly and call out. No one answered, so Sam went in. To the left in the kitchen area, the sink overflowed with dishes. On the right, sofas and recliners focused on the ancient 'floor model' TV in its ornate wood cabinet and packed bookshelves that flanked the fireplace. Sam was sure they never complained for more because they didn’t want the in the old days real men yada yada sermon her father would give, nor the center yourself with the universe crock of shit from Joe.

A shuffling sound spun her to face a man stumbling out of a darkened room.

Speak of the devil.

Despite her determination, Sam's heart sped up a little in response to Joe’s dark rumpled hair, bare chest, low-hanging pajama pants and sleepy half-smile.

"Hey, Sam." He came further into the common room and headed for the kitchen. The better light accented pale, sunken features and bleary eyes. So he was getting sick too. Hah.

"Wa'ssup?" He passed a few feet from her and the stench of sour sweat drifted well into her space. He’d apparently been steaming away in that stupid little sweat room he’d built for the workers' purifications. Such a waste of perfectly good firewood. And the acrid odor of the various materials he added to the fire permeated any substance that drew near.

Damn she hated how much she needed his idiot ass on the ranch. But goofy Indian/cowboy/monk/Spartan was better than the precisely nothing she had without him. The other hands adored their Josephus—his self-appointed prophetic name—and would follow him into hell without question.

Sam forced herself to answer civilly before he could turn nasty. "Just checking how everyone's doing. You don't look so hot." She put the pay envelopes on the desk in their usual drop-off spot and silently took back her mean prayer that he would get sick. Was it even meaner that she only took it back because she couldn’t afford him to fall ill now?

"Gee, thanks." He noisily ransacked the fridge and finally came up with a canned soda and drained it in a half dozen swallows. "Not so long ago you didn't think that." He turned a sleazy grin her way. "You need something?"

Sam fought the urge to bristle angrily back at the asshole and lost. "Oh, just a crew smart enough to take a shot so they aren't dead sick with a serious storm blowing in."

He leaned unsteadily against the counter and ran one hand over his face. "Storm?"

"Surprised you didn’t feel it coming between all those war wounds and your direct line to the universe. Looks like we're about to get hammered."

"Huh. Sounds like you better get busy. None of us are in any shape to help." He chose to bless her with the little half-grin that won him the heart of nearly every female he encountered.

Even Sam's, for a time. His superior attitude quickly ruined the charm of his looks. "You're up and moving, so get ready. We're going to get some extra hay out." She would tolerate him for the sake of the animals.

He shook his head, tousled hair falling into his eyes. "'Fraid the others here are in pretty bad shape and I can't leave them. I’ve been fasting and praying. I’m pretty sure I’ll have this thing prayed out in two more days.”

Of all the ridiculous bullshit the bastard had ever spouted. "Well maybe if you hadn’t convinced them, and hell, every other man in the area, that getting a flu shot was a bad idea, the whole basin wouldn’t be in this trouble and you wouldn’t be hiding out here on your knees. Now we’re all paying for your crack-pot philosophy."