Cowboy Creed (Cooper's Hawke Landing Book 1) Page 3

  “I hate to ask but we’ve been here before. Is there a chance that he’s up to no good?”

  Creed never liked asking that question, but it was important that any time he and his team members were on a mission and putting their lives at risk that it was for a good cause.

  “Conley believes the man is out here. His wife believes he’s within two miles of West Peak. That’s the path he usually takes.”

  Knowing the mountain range like the back of his hand, Creed visualized the layout and features, focusing on spots where Terrence could be lost, or worse. Hikers were warned to never hike alone and stay within the designated public areas, and very seldom did they listen. That’s why the SAR team was up on the mountain often.

  “How often does he come out here?”

  Creed shifted in the saddle. “The wife said two or three times a month. I don’t think with all this rain we’ll be able to track his path. Hopefully we’ll find him hunkered down somewhere safe.” They always went into a search and rescue mission looking for a live person. Most of the time people survived and that’s what gave him satisfaction. To help someone. To bring them home.

  After his contract in the Navy ended, and a short time on the rodeo circuit, he then came home to Cooper’s Hawk, named after his great, great grandfather, Cooper Hawke. Creed now lived on the land that belonged to that same grandpa, Hawke Farm. His oldest brother, Hank, also a SAR, had moved above his bar, Pelican Hawk, a few years ago and Boone moved into the guest house on the farm’s property for more privacy.

  “You think he’s still alive?” Boone asked as they steered toward West Peak.

  “I think there’s a good chance he is. He’s young. In good condition. Trained in medical survival.” Creed took the lead again as the trail narrowed and sandwiched between the ravine below and the rock wall.

  The rain pummeled his hat, streamed off the rim and soaked his thick jacket and jeans. The temperature dropped as the sun set, which only made the situation more dire. The clock was ticking.

  The only light would come from their flashlights soon.

  “We’re going to have to walk from here, Boone.” The unstable path would be too dangerous for the horses. Sliding out of the saddle, Creed tied the reins on a tree limb and Boone did the same, and they continued the narrow, muddy path on foot.

  “Shit, it’s cold out here.” Boone zipped his jacket.

  Creed dragged his survival bag up further on his shoulder. “We’ve been through colder.”

  “That’s for damn sure.” He gave a dramatic shiver. “Makes me want to snuggle up with a warm, soft body.”

  “When do you need an excuse?”

  “Speaking of, guess who I ran into yesterday.”

  “No clue.” His words made a puff of fog.

  “Penny Castle.” The thirty-something, cute brunette was a teacher over at the middle school.

  “Okay.”

  “What do you mean “okay’?” Boone groaned. “She’s beautiful, smart, kind—”

  “Then why don’t you date her?”

  “She doesn’t want to date me, bro. She’s had the hots for you since you divorced.”

  Creed didn’t want to talk about his dating life—or the lack of—with anyone. “Who was the blonde I saw leaving the guest house last weekend?”

  Boone chuckled proudly. “Vicki Barnes.”

  “Never heard of her.” That didn’t surprise Creed. His brother kept a rotating bed.

  “Met her while I was out of town. She’d never been to Cooper’s Hawk, so I invited her to come and visit. It turned into an overnight stay.” He wriggled his brows.

  “There’s going to be an alignment of the stars when you finally find the one.”

  Boone snorted. “A man doesn’t plant a garden to have one flower. He wants a variety.”

  Creed shook his head. “Mark my words.”

  They’d walked longer as the temperature continued to drop, and the rain still came down. Creed scrubbed the wetness from his face and whiskers, but it didn’t help. As soon as he wiped it off more water gathered.

  “Hell, we don’t even know if this is the way he came,” Boone complained.

  “Hush!”

  “Fine, ass—”

  “Shh! Did you hear that?”

  They’d stopped walking and listened. “It sounded like someone yelling. Wait. There it is again.”

  “It’s that way.” Creed took off on the trail. His boots slipped on the mud but somehow, he managed to stay upright. They reached the ridge that was marked by a safety sign urging hikers to stay off the unstable cliff. Beyond was a one-hundred-foot drop into the gorge. “Hello?”

  “Down here! Help me, please!” came a weak voice.

  Creed slowly stepped past the safety point which caused more rock to crumble.

  “Come back, bro. That ain’t going to work,” Boone warned.

  Lowering to his knees, Creed stretched out onto his stomach and pulled his way closer to the edge of the cliff. He pulled his flashlight from his belt and shone the light below. The man had fallen onto a ledge twenty feet down. “He’s here,” he informed Boone. “Terrence?”

  “Y-yes. That’s me.”

  “I’m Creed Hawke with Landing Search and Rescue. How hurt are you?”

  “I broke my leg. A compound fracture. Some cuts and bruises. Probably a concussion,” the man’s voice quavered. “I’ve lost a lot of blood and I’m close to hypothermia. I’ve been down here for a w-while. M-my wife will be worried.”

  “Stay calm. We’re going to get you out. I’ll be right back.”

  “No. Don’t leave! Please don’t leave.” His tortured moan traveled up the side of the bank.

  “Listen, Terrence.” Creed remained calm. He understood how being hurt and trapped could scare even the bravest person. “I know you must be worried, but my brother is here with me and we make it our job to help people. We will get you home to your wife. We just need to make sure anything and everything we do is done safely so we have to go slow.”

  “Okay. Okay.” His teeth were chattering. “I can do this, but if I don’t make it—”

  “Terrence, you’ll make it out. Hold tight.” Creed crawled off the rock, stood and headed to his pack that he’d dropped on the path.

  “What are you doing?” Boone asked. “That cliff is about to crumble.”

  “I’m going down after him.” Creed took his rope, harness, carabiners, and leather gloves from the pack. He slid his knife into his boot in case things went awry.

  “That’s going to be almost impossible in this rain.”

  Creed dragged on his gloves. “What choice do we have?” Finding a sturdy tree, he began securing the aramid rope around the base and at the other end he tied a stopper knot. “When I get down there, I’ll hook him up in the harness and you can help pull him up.”

  “Wait, Creed. We could send him down rain gear, warmers and water. It’ll work until the weather lets up some.”

  “He’s lost a lot of blood. Radio the medics and have them meet us at the base of the trail.” He patted his brother’s shoulder. “We have to get him out of there. This situation will only get worse and we can’t wait for Mother Nature to appease us. You ready?”

  Boone nodded. “I’ll take care of things on my end.

  “That’s what I’m counting on. I know you have my back.” Creed crawled back out on the rock and dropped his rope over, hearing it land below. He gave a prayer then positioned himself on the edge and rolled over, keeping his center of gravity close to the wall.

  Holding the rope in a tight grip, he repeated the mantra Stay low, go slow.

  “You okay?” Boone called out.

  “I’m fine.”

  Facing the wall, he planted his feet shoulder-width apart and slowly walked several steps, but the unstable rock crumbled, twisting the rope, sending Creed sideways and hitting the wall. “Humph.” His breath rustled out of his lungs. He grabbed the rope snugger in his gloved grip, pressing his boots against the roc
k to keep from hitting the solid wall again. Pebbles fell around him like a rock shower. He needed to move as quick as possible.

  What seemed like hours had only been fifteen minutes when Creed’s boots finally touched ground below. His arms were tired, his knuckles ached, but the relief of making it down took some of the pressure off his shoulders.

  Terrence was lying in a twisted posture, obviously with his leg broken. Creed was glad he’d brought the harness with him.

  “Thank God you found me.” The man was close to tears.

  They weren’t out of the woods yet. “I’m going to get you to safety but it’s important for you to listen to what I tell you to do. Is it your leg that’s only broken?”

  “Yes. I think so. A few cuts here and there but nothing major.”

  Creed grabbed the flashlight from his belt and made a quick evaluation of Terrence’s condition. His ripped clothes had a faint staining of blood, but the rain had washed most of it away. His hiking shorts exposed his injured left leg that he’d wrapped in a makeshift bandage made from a red handkerchief. He was lucky to be alive because two inches one way and he would have landed in the ravine. Creed was grateful the man remained calm. Panicked rescues could lead to more injuries. He’d come out of a few missions with black eyes.

  “Can you handle being lifted up?”

  “Yes. I can handle it. I want the hell off this rock,” Terrence rasped, shivering from the cold.

  Creed removed his jacket and helped the man pull it on. “Have you repelled before?”

  “Yes. A couple of times.”

  “Good, then you know how this works. I’ll get the harness on you and we’ll lift you up since you can’t use your leg. It’s going to hurt like hell.”

  Terrence nodded. “Let’s do it.”

  As careful as he could, Creed secured the harness. “You ready?”

  The man gave a weak nod. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

  “Ready, Boone,” Creed said into his radio.

  “Roger that,” Boone answered.

  The rope jerked and Terrence gasped in pain. “You okay?” Creed asked.

  “I’ll be fine once I’m up there.”

  Boone lifted him higher and higher, inch by inch. Slow and steady. More rock fell onto the lip.

  Once Terrence reached safety, Creed breathed a sigh of relief and sat down on the edge of the rock. He then realized the rain had finally stopped. Staring out into the darkness, the moonlight brushed the tops of the trees making them look like a painting. It was quiet here on the mountain. He could have stayed there longer but when the evac rope struck his shoulder, he gathered himself and climbed up the side of the rock wall.

  The adrenaline rush of saving a life only lasted the amount of time it took Creed to get home and walk through the front door. His mother had called and left a message telling him that his daughter had snuck out of the house during the night.

  Fourteen-year-old Livvy Hawke jumped up from the couch and screamed, “You can’t do this! It’s unfair!”

  “I can and I’m doing it.” Creed Hawke did his best to remain calm although his daughter liked to push the limits of his patience far too many times.

  “It’s my phone! Not yours. You can’t take it!”

  “Really? Does that mean you’ll be taking over the payment?”

  Her face turned red and she fisted her hands at her sides. “I’m going to go live with Mom,” she threatened.

  If he had a dime for every time he heard this threat he’d be a rich man. He knew, and so did she, that going to live with her mom wasn’t an option. Melody left Cooper’s Hawk when Livvy was two and had only come to visit a few times since. As far as Creed knew, his ex was living in New York, or Hollywood or Chicago, following her dreams that didn’t include being weighed down by a family.

  When she’d first told him that she was leaving, he’d been hurt, not for himself but for Livvy. She was young, still needed her mom, but even more so now as a teen, as changes were taking place in her body that he couldn’t possibly understand. For that reason alone he’d been a little more understanding, forgiving, until she started acting like she was an adult in a kid’s body. He’d been warned by other parents that the day would come when teen-hood struck like a ferocious demon being uncaged.

  “You’ll have plenty of time to think about your future because you’re grounded. No TV, no phone, and no friends for two weeks.”

  “You can’t take my friends from me.” She’d lost some of the anger in her tone as her punishment started to become real.

  “Would you like for two weeks to turn into a month?” Creed narrowed his gaze on her, feeling his patience slip some. He was doing his best—had always done what he thought was best, but even parents were human and had limits. “You should have thought twice before you snuck out of the house.”

  “You don’t understand. You never understand.” She stomped her foot.

  “What’s there to understand? You didn’t have permission to leave the house. You know the rules when I’m at work. Your grandmother was worried sick.”

  “When are you not at work?” She crossed her arms over her chest and gave him the stubborn Hawke expression.

  He took a deep breath and let it escape through his teeth. He couldn’t argue because no doubt, he worked more than he should. “It doesn’t change the fact that you disobeyed the rules. You made your choice.”

  “I hate you!” She stamped her foot and puffed out her bottom lip like she would do when she was a toddler.

  “Join the club.” Although her words struck him straight in the center of his chest, he remained relaxed and didn’t allow her to ruffle his feathers. These days it felt like she was doing everything and anything to push his buttons. He understood it couldn’t be easy for a teenager to not have her mom around. Hell, things weren’t any easier on him. Creed had thought he was doing a pretty good job at parenting until she turned thirteen and things spun upside down. “Then you won’t mind if you go upstairs and spend some time in your bedroom.”

  “Fine!” She turned on her heels and stomped up the stairs. He could hear her feet pounding the hardwood floor and then the slamming of the door.

  “Holy Sheets. What’s all the racket?”

  Creed greeted his ma with a weak smile. “The same routine, Ma.”

  “You know she’s right.”

  “That I don’t have the right to take her phone?” He strolled into the kitchen, grabbed a water bottle from the refrigerator and downed half of it in one gulp.

  “No, you have the right to discipline her. I was referring to you working all the time.” Abby folded her arms over her chest and looked at him above her square glasses, the way she did when he was in trouble as a child. “Have you even calculated how many hours you’ve worked this week alone?”

  “Bills don’t pay themselves and this farm, Sage Ranch and Cooper’s Hawke Landing won’t run themselves.” He whipped off his Stetson and dropped it onto the counter.

  “Yeah, and your daughter won’t raise herself either.”

  Leave it to his ma to rip off the bandage. “At least she has you here with her.” Although he appreciated everything she did for him and Livvy, sometimes he wished he could ignore her logical thinking.

  “But she wants her father more.” Abby sidestepped him, opened the refrigerator and took out a carton of eggs and package of bacon.

  “Have you listened to her lately? I think I’m the last person she wants to be around.” He finished his water and smashed the bottle, dropping it into the trashcan on his way to sit down at the small round table. Damn, he was tired. After saving the man off Trip Ease, he then was called out to search for a missing teenager who was separated from her group of friends. The SAR team spent all night searching until finally a call came in that she’d wandered back into her campsite completely unaware that she’d been the target of a missing person’s search. The eighteen-year-old had huddled up in a cave to get stoned and fell asleep for the night.

  �
�Those are just words. I always said we should spend more time watching actions instead of listening to words. You hungry?”

  “Yeah, I could eat.” He swiped his hand down his whiskered jaw. He needed a good scrub, a shave, and a couple days of sleep. Two of those he could manage but sleep wasn’t in his near future because he had to stop over at Sage Ranch sometime that morning.

  “Did she tell you where she snuck out to last night?” Abby broke an eggshell and dropped the contents into a frying pan.

  “We didn’t get that far,” he grumbled.

  “Hmm.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” He stared at his ma’s back.

  She swiveled, wooden spoon pointing at him. “You two never get to the truth, or the core issue. When was the last time you two had a father to daughter talk? Just went out and had some fun?”

  He opened his mouth, but nothing came. He had no answer. “Look, I know I’m not what she needs—”

  “That’s not what I’m saying.” She slid the egg onto a plate, added a piece of toast and took the plate to him. She sat down across from him. “What I’m saying is that I know a thing or two about parenting and it’s hard. We try to balance things, but it doesn’t always work, especially when we’re trying to run a household and hold down a job. That child is hurt, and you need to figure out why. Find the time.”

  He forked up a piece of egg, shoved it into his mouth then nodded. “I see your point.”

  The back door came flying open. Hank strolled in, swiped off his black Stetson and stuck it on the L hook. He, Boone and Creed were all about the same height and weight but Hank kept his hair high and tight, and he was missing a few fingers from his left hand from his days as an Explosive Ordinance Disposal Specialist in the Army. He came home, battled a case of PTSD, then opened Pelican Hawke. When he wasn’t at the bar, Hank was working the land at the family farm and volunteering at Hawke Landing. Turning forty in May, he was looking more and more like their father, Damon Hawke. He’d been their superhero, taught his boys everything about the land and unfortunately had passed away too soon.

  “I smell some good cooking.” Hank pushed out his stomach and rubbed the pouch theatrically.