by Rhona Weaver
“Why the river?” Win called after him.
“Luke has a cable crossing on it, but the guy won’t be able to cross it in the spring flood. We’ll have him trapped.”
Trey’s idea to outflank the bad guy nearly worked. The faint path was mostly an indention in the snow. They alternated between jogging and sliding along it through the dense woods for nearly a quarter mile. Win and the ranger got to the brink of the sixty-foot bluff above the river just as Bronte was dragging Ellie up onto the wooden platform that Bordeaux had built for the cable crossing.
Win was shocked at the sight of the violently churning river. Even standing hundreds of feet away, he could feel the thundering power of the water roaring through the narrow ravine flanked by yellow-gray slate cliffs. The two wooden platforms supporting the cables were about fifteen feet tall, standing on opposite sides of the stream, right at the edge of the swirling water and less than a hundred feet from the base of the cliffs.
The bad guy was up on the platform now, pushing Ellie ahead of him toward the cables. Bronte hit the release bar and sent the three cables to their lower horizontal positions above the river. In low-water conditions this would work—you could merely tightrope across the bottom cable to the opposite platform while holding on to the two higher cables. At high river levels, however, the bottom cable was nearly touching the seething surface of the water. Each whitecap wave or piece of debris that slammed against it forced it to jump up and down like a bucking horse. And instead of a seventy-foot-wide placid stream, the Yellowstone River was a hundred-fifty-foot-wide muddy, raging torrent.
“Whata you got?” Win gasped as he tried to catch his breath from the sliding run. They were still over three hundred feet from the couple on a level area atop the bluff. Trey was pulling the breech back to load a cartridge into the long gun.
“Luke’s .30-06 . . . deer rifle . . . gonna try to get a shot. He can’t hit us from here. . . . Just gotta have a little separation from Ellie.”
Bronte proved him wrong by sending two quick bursts of automatic rifle fire toward them a second later. Rounds thumped into the yellow shale at their feet and ricocheted off the rocks to the right. Trey dodged to his left as Win retreated behind the nearest boulder.
“Damn! Little help here! Little help!” Trey’s voice didn’t sound panicked, but Win turned and saw that the ranger had slipped and gone down on the edge of the bluff. Gravel and loose rocks clattered down the jagged rock face. Trey lost the rifle and was halfway over the lip when Win dropped his weapon, lunged forward, grabbed the ranger’s left arm, and threw himself flat to anchor them there. Bronte’s next burst was wild and rounds zinged high overhead. Win held tight to Trey’s arm as the man struggled to find a foothold on the cliff face.
Win stared over Trey’s short blond hair at the scene unfolding below them at the river’s edge. Bronte had given up on the assault rifle. He’d pulled a pistol and was holding the high cable with his free hand and pushing Ellie along the cable with the handgun. We have to get to her! Trey’s boot found a toehold; he pushed himself up a few inches. Win reached for the back of Trey’s gun belt with his right hand and pulled him over the lip of the cliff and behind a boulder.
The ranger’s fair complexion was a few shades lighter, but otherwise he didn’t seem fazed. “Gotta get down there!” He was reaching for the assault rifle as he caught his breath.
“How?”
“A path . . . down the cliff . . . twenty-five yards to the right. I’ll cover you.” As Win grabbed the shotgun and turned to run, he heard Trey cut loose with what he’d consider warning shots from the assault rifle. Maybe that would at least give the bad guy pause—someone was shooting back.
Win sprinted through the snow and sagebrush along the top of the bluff to the steep trail leading to the river. He paused long enough at the trail’s high point to see Bronte pushing Ellie farther along the cable. A dark, frothy wave rose up toward the cable and pulled at it, sending both Ellie and Bronte into a wall of angry water. Win held his breath and prayed that Ellie’s grip on the thin metal wire would hold. Please don’t let her fall! Please don’t!
As soon as he dropped below the lip of cliff, the sound of the rushing river became all-consuming. It was like a living thing, roaring a dare at anyone foolish enough to approach. He maneuvered among the icy boulders and down the trail’s slick switchbacks, grabbing at scrub brush and handholds, with the shotgun in a death grip. He was unsteady on his feet as he neared the foot of the cliff and the riverbank—as he neared a point where he could see them again.
Win glimpsed the couple just as a log and a second huge wave swept toward them. Bronte still held the pistol, but he had pulled it away from Ellie. His other hand was still gripping the higher wire, and his heavy camouflage coat was blowing open in the wind. The pistol waved wildly. Is he giving up or balancing? Win wasn’t sure. Win was closing in on them now, nearly within range. But he had no idea what pattern the ranger’s shotgun would throw—he’d likely kill them both if he fired it. He dropped the shotgun in the snow and found himself aiming his Glock with one hand as he ran toward the platform across the mixture of snow, sand, and mud. He was shouting for the man to drop the gun, for Ellie to hold on, but they couldn’t hear him above the water’s roar.
Suddenly the small man seemed to freeze—then he crumpled backward into the white-capping brown river and disappeared into the swirling torrent. It happened so fast that Win wasn’t even sure what he’d seen. Had he fired? No. Had someone else? He caught sight of other men in civilian clothes on the cliff behind him—the good guys had arrived. Sure hope it’s the good guys!
He stopped at the foot of the dripping platform, disoriented for a moment as he scanned the water. Ellie? Where is Ellie?
Chapter Twenty-Five
For a second, as Win scrambled up the ladder to the platform, he thought she was gone. But when the swirling wave moved past, he saw she’d fallen to the lower cable, wrapped her legs and arms around it, and was clinging to it with her back partially in the river. Her face was a mask of panic—if she was screaming, he couldn’t hear it over the roar of the water. He threw his hat and parka off. His Glock went down on top of the coat and he turned and faced the river. Pure fear caused him to pause for a moment before his hands caught the cold steel of the upper cables and he pulled himself up to try to make contact with the lower wire. He caught another glimpse of Ellie’s blue shirt through the chocolate-colored water maybe fifty feet in front of him. She’s still hanging on, thank God! His boots found the top of the bouncing cable just as two strong hands grasped his waist and pulled him back onto the platform. Trey wrestled him back two steps and was out on the cable before he could react.
The man had done this before. Trey moved with confidence and was nearly to Ellie before a wave drove the foot cable into the churning river. Win saw Trey’s boots lose contact with the lower wire. He pulled himself upright out of the water and righted himself on the lower cable just as it took another dive. Giving up on the two guidance cables, Trey swung down onto the lower cable, turned his chest into it and let the rapid current crush him against it, then lunged forward and grabbed Ellie’s arm. He inched back up the cable, pulling her behind him with every pause in the torrent. Instead of fighting the river, he was letting the ebb and flow of the stream work to his advantage as he slowly brought them both closer to shore. The SWAT Team leader appeared beside Win on the platform just as Trey and Ellie outlasted another huge wave. Win felt totally helpless standing there out of reach and unable to help. Dear God, please let them make it. After what felt like forever, Trey and Ellie reached the less violent part of the river near the platform. The agent and Win pulled the two to safety and helped them down the wooden ladder.
Trey was holding a sobbing, drenched Ellie tight as Win put his mostly dry coat over her shoulders and moved them both toward the yellow cliff base. He was walking back toward the platform to collect the discarded weapons w
hen one of the four SWAT agents who’d made it down the cliff’s path grabbed Win’s arm and pointed. A lone figure in the same camouflage pattern Bronte had been wearing was coming down the bluff on the opposite side of the river, rifle in hand. The SWAT guys immediately went into alert mode, with guns drawn and aimed.
The noise next to the river was deafening—no one could hear anything. Win moved ahead of the other agents so they could see him. He raised his hand high to Luke Bordeaux. The man slowed and returned the wave. Luke slipped the assault rifle onto his back and climbed onto the cable platform on the far side of the stream. As Win watched him, he remembered thinking how much Luke reminded him of a big cat: completely at ease in motion, deliberate and balanced. He was fixin’ to cross the river on that cable—he didn’t even hesitate.
The SWAT Team leader moved next to Win and shouted over the thundering sound of the water, “He’s with us?”
Win wished he knew. He spread his hands and shrugged his shoulders and shouted back to the man, “Not sure. He’s with me—but stay clear of him!”
The agent was watching Luke handle the cables like an acrobat. “No problem!” He clearly wanted nothing to do with anyone capable of making that walk across the river look easy. He motioned his guys back a few yards to the base of the cliff. They kept their guns at the ready.
Luke paused near the cable’s low point and waited for a breaking wave to hit it. Win was watching Luke’s gloved hands; he never saw them leave the two guidance cables, even when the heavier foot cable kicked upward with the waves and he had to kneel to keep contact with it. Within seconds Luke was on their side of the flooded stream and down the platform ladder. He hadn’t even gotten his boots wet.
But Win would’ve bet money Bronte’s blood was on Luke’s right glove where he’d gripped the cable. He didn’t think the man simply lost his hold and fell into the river. No way to hear a shot with the crashing of the water, but Win was just as sure there was one less cartridge in Luke’s scoped rifle. Bronte’s hand on the guidance cable would have been the most stable object, the surest shot, and the point farthest from Ellie. That’s the shot I would have taken.
Ellie buried her face in Luke’s chest and they stood holding each other for a long minute. Someone loaned Trey a dry coat as Win tried to find a spot where he could be heard on the SWAT guy’s satellite phone to call for a stand-down. He sent word to the operations center that they needed to start searching the riverbank for the subject—or more likely, for his body. Two of the SWAT agents began that search and worked to retrieve the hunting rifle Trey had dropped off the bluff. One of the agents had hot-wired one of Luke’s four-wheelers; Luke commandeered it and drove Ellie back to the house to keep her from developing hypothermia. Win, Trey, and two of the other plainclothes SWAT guys walked the nearly quarter-mile trail back to the house in the cold wind.
“Did she say anything to you? She okay?” Win finally asked Trey as they trudged along through the melting snow and swaying trees.
“Says she is . . . said he hit her once and dragged her around, but nothing worse. She thinks he was on something. She said he was convinced they could cross the river. Said Bronte told her he was going to walk to Gardiner and steal a car, then carry her off to South Dakota.”
“Sounds like he was on something. Why not just drive out the way you drove in?” Win shifted Bronte’s AR-15 to his other shoulder.
“Don’t know. Maybe he knew she’d texted Luke, maybe he heard the siren when we came up,” Trey said.
“So this looks like an abduction by a lone wolf. Not a move against her by Shepherd’s group?” Win asked.
“That’s how it’s looking right now. Still want to talk to her and make sure we’re getting the full story. She was coming apart back there.” Win noticed the ranger was beginning to shiver from the cold.
When they got back to the house, there were six more SWAT agents there, all heavily armed, all in civilian clothes. Luke had gotten their attention as he drove in with Ellie on the four-wheeler, but they were staying out of his way, as Win had instructed. Win had a bad feeling that as the case agent he was technically in charge now. He had no idea what to do. One thing was clear, however, the more agents at the house, the greater the possibility the bad guys would suspect the Bordeaux were informants.
Luke was standing in the middle of the kitchen, fully armed, with a barely contained look of rage about him. One of the agents was gently washing the side of Ellie’s bruised face with antiseptic while the others fingered their weapons and cast concerned glances toward her lethal-looking husband. Time to create a little space.
“Hey, Luke, leave the rifle in here, it’s, uh . . . making everyone nervous.” That and the two handguns and knife on your belt. “You take Ellie in back and I’ll send some of these folks on their way.” Win couldn’t believe Luke was letting him boss him around in his own house, but the guy obviously had other things on his mind. Luke obediently leaned the rifle in the corner of the kitchen and shepherded Ellie toward their master bedroom.
Helicopters and drones couldn’t get up in the weather, so there was no way to search for Bronte except on foot or by four-wheeler. Win sent two additional men to join those who were already combing the riverbank. He sent the other agents back to their surveillance duties. Only Trey and Win remained in the house with Luke and Ellie; that seemed more manageable.
As soon as the agents left the house, Win walked to the kitchen and picked up Luke’s rifle. He slipped the magazine out and counted twenty-seven cartridges and one in the chamber—two missing. It’d been far too long for the barrel to still be warm, but he smelled the discharge from the rifle as soon as he opened the breech. Luke walked in with a stack of clothes in his hands just as Win slid the magazine back into the weapon. Their eyes met for a second.
“Where’s your gloves, Luke?”
“Probably ruined ’em comin’ across that cable. They won’t be much use to me now. No tellin’ where they are.” Luke sounded indifferent.
“Real nice weapon,” Win said, balancing the Recon Tactical Rifle in his hands.
“It was a gift from a client. We ’bout done here?” Luke’s eyes were narrowing.
“You always load two cartridges short?”
“Keeps the cartridge flow from jamming iffen you pack ’em a little short, so I usually load a magazine one or two rounds light. . . . By the way, it ain’t a real good idea to fool with a man’s gun, Win.” The dark eyes were evasive.
“Not likely to find a body in the river the way it’s rolling, but you never know.” Win lowered the rifle to its spot in the corner, but he kept his eyes on Bordeaux.
Luke shrugged at the last comment and moved past Win to take the dry clothes to Trey. The ranger was wrapped in a blanket in the den, watching Luke and Win’s exchange but saying nothing. He was shivering even in the heated room.
Luke turned his attention to Trey. “Ellie said to tell you to get a hot shower and put these on ’fore you freeze to death. I’m gonna start the fire and make coffee. She’s cleanin’ up—she’ll be out directly. Said y’all wanted to talk to her.”
Win glanced down the hall to make sure they weren’t overheard. “Luke, is she alright? He didn’t hurt her?”
Luke looked down at the hunting clothes he was holding and closed his eyes tight. When he opened them, he drew a sharp breath. “He didn’t hurt her bad, no, but if y’all hadn’t got here when you did . . .” His voice trailed off.
Trey leaned his head back in the chair and closed his eyes. “Thank God.”
“I seen it from the other side of the river. After Bronte dropped off . . . wasn’t nothin’ I could do ’cept stand there and pray. I figure Ellie and me got God and you both to thank.” Luke stoked the fire in the big fireplace and shook his head, as if willing the horrible thoughts of what could have happened to leave his mind. Then he settled back onto practical things. “Win, make yourself useful
and fix the coffee. I’m gonna work on the door where he kicked the bolt in.”
While Trey took a shower at the other end of the house and Luke worked on the front door, Win got the coffee going and decided he’d better try out Luke’s cell phone booster and check in with his bosses. He wasn’t real sure how to handle this. An attempted abduction on private land would normally be handled by the locals, but Luke’s land was within the boundaries of the park, so the rangers could be the lead agency. A man had gone into the river and there should be some rescue or recovery attempt beyond what the agents were doing. Mr. Givens told Win he’d reach out to Chief Randall; the Park Service would probably end up calling in the locals. Win’s next call was to Matt Smith, to let him know where he and Trey were. They were supposed to be working on the leak for HRT this morning. Win was surprised when Smith told him he and Phillips would be dropping by in a couple of minutes. They were a mile up Luke’s entrance road. “Let’s not mention that to Bordeaux,” Smith said.
Luke had taken Ellie hot coffee and was back on the porch, working on the front door, when the HRT guys pulled in beside the various vehicles lining Luke’s front yard. The two men exited a muddy blue SUV with U.S. Seismology Testing Services stenciled on the side. Luke stood up, wiped his hands on his camo pants, and watched the two newcomers approach. Win took his cup of coffee out to the porch to meet them. He let the men introduce themselves, since he had no idea if they’d use their real names. He was actually surprised when they did. Phillips and Smith both shook hands with Luke and nodded to Win.
“I see y’all know each other, so I’m guessing y’all ain’t doing earthquake studies out here,” Luke remarked.