The mare's eyes showed white. "Easy, girl." Rachel waded toward her. The wagon shifted again.
June jumped sideways. One of the traces had twisted around the wagon rail. "Don't." Rachel reached for the mare's neck.
June jerked harder. The strap tightened. Rachel knew what came next. If the mare panicked fully, a broken leg, a flipped wagon, maybe worse.
She pulled off one glove with her teeth and reached for the knife she kept in the wagon box. Hoofbeats sounded from the road. Fast. Rachel looked up.
A rider came down the northern bank through sleet, coat dark with wet. The horse was large. The man on it larger. He reined in near the creek.
"You stuck?"
Rachel almost laughed. "No. I thought I'd stop here for the view."
The man swung down. He was taller than anyone had a right to be, broad shoulders beneath a heavy brown coat, hat pulled low against the weather. Rachel recognized him only after he got closer.
Matthew Hail. High Mesa. She had seen him in town twice. Never spoken to him.
He looked at the wagon, then the wheel, then the mare. "I can pull you out."
"No."
He paused. Rachel pointed toward the rear axle. "Wheel pin's gone. You pull now, that wheel comes off and she goes under."
Matthew looked again. He nodded. "All right."
June jerked. Rachel moved toward her. "Hold that wheel."
Matthew looked at Rachel. "What?"
"The wheel. Push it inward against the axle and keep it there."
He glanced toward the rising creek. Rachel snapped, "Unless you've got a better idea that doesn't involve drowning my mare."
Matthew moved without another word. He stepped into the water, boots sinking into mud, and put both hands against the wheel. Rachel reached June. The mare's breath came hard.
Rachel pulled off her scarf and folded it once. "Easy." June tried to back away. Rachel placed the scarf over the mare's eyes.
The animal shuddered. "That's it." Matthew grunted behind her as the wagon shifted. Rachel followed the twisted leather down.
The strap was jammed tight against the rail. She drew her knife. One cut would ruin the trace. Better ruined leather than a ruined horse.
She sawed through it. The strap snapped free. June lunged forward. Rachel caught the halter rope.
The mare's shoulder struck her. Pain ran down Rachel's arm. She held on. "Easy. Easy."
June stopped. Rachel breathed. "Now," she called.
Matthew's voice came through the sleet. "Now what?"
"Push the wheel harder."
"It is hard."
"Harder."
There was a brief silence. Then the wagon lifted half an inch. Rachel stared. Matthew Hail was forcing the wheel inward with his shoulder while bracing both boots against the creek bed.
She freed the last piece of twisted harness. "Good."
Matthew looked at her. "Good?"
"Don't get proud. We're still standing in a river."
Something happened near his mouth. Not quite a smile. Rachel led June toward the south bank. The mare hesitated.
Rachel pulled gently. "Come on."
One step. Then another. Matthew kept the wheel in place until the team could be backed just enough to straighten the wagon.
They worked slowly. No shouting. No wasted movement. Rachel gave instructions.
Matthew followed them. It took nearly 20 minutes to get everything safely onto the south bank. By then, Rachel's skirt was soaked to the knees and her boots squished when she walked. Matthew stood beside the wagon, breathing harder than before.
"You always order strangers around in creeks?"
"Only the useful ones."
This time he did smile. It changed his face more than Rachel expected. She looked away first.