Let the Hunt Begin

by Alex Ander

  “...I know my Soph’ll be able to carry you both. However, with that being said...I’m sure she’d be grateful if you’d spell her from time to time.”

  Still grinning at Devlin, his mind coming up with a couple quips, the deputy marshal ‘bit his tongue’ and faced the horse’s owner. “I’ll climb down and walk every now and then.”

  “Much obliged.” A beat. “Well, you should be all set.” Bentley eyed his guests. “You said that your man was riding a motorcycle?”

  They affirmed his assertion.

  “In this weather?” He shook his head. “He won’t make it very far in snow this deep.” He patted Sophia’s rump. “Little Miss Soph here’ll cover more ground than he will.”

  “About that,” Devlin held out her hand toward Randall, “let’s see that map,” before she faced Bentley. “I was hoping you could give us some insight on the area. So far, he’s heading north.” She took the map from Randall and opened it. “What lies between here and there?”

  *******

  3:11 P.M.

  “So,” Bentley folded the map and handed it back to Randall, “since he’s on a bike, he’s going to have to follow the trail around the peak. You’ll be able to shave some time off if you go up and over.”

  For the last few minutes, the older man had been advising the agents on travel routes and the surrounding landscape.

  Randall stowed the atlas and extended his right hand. “We appreciate the help, sir.”

  Bentley accepted the parting gesture.

  “Oh, and uh,” the deputy marshal flicked his eyes toward the open barn door, his mind showing him the spot where he had been standing while holding Samantha’s body, “my apologies for coming across the way I did, earlier. I tend to get a little cranky when staring down the barrel of a gun.”

  Devlin held back a grin. A little?

  “Don’t blame you, son. Once I discovered you two were really marshals, I’ve been feeling mighty bad about it.”

  She shook Bentley’s hand, “Thank you, Wilbur,” then gestured at the horse. “I promise. We’ll take good care of Sophia.”

  “And she’ll take good care of you, too.” A beat. “One last thing...this storm isn’t expected to let up for several more hours, so if you haven’t bagged your man before sundown, seek some shelter. You don’t want to be moving around on that mountain in the dark.” He shook his head. “There are a lot of steep cliffs that can pop up out of nowhere.”

  “We will. Thank you again.”

  Standing on the horse’s left, “So, Let the Hunt Begin,” Randall grabbed the reins and mounted the steed, a big grin on his face. “Yee-haw. Going after the bad guys old-school.”

  Sticking her left foot into the left-rear stirrup, “Hey, how come you get to—” Devlin looked up at him and motioned, “give me a lift, will you?”

  He clasped her left forearm/wrist area and pulled.

  She swung her right leg up and over the horse’s hind quarters and settled into the rear seat. “How come you get to ride up front, anyway?”

  “Because we have an arrangement, remember? I always drive.”

  “That was for automobiles. There were no stipulations for animals.”

  “No?” He shrugged. “Then I guess I have to fall back on,” he twisted his shoulders to smile at her, “you snooze you lose.”

  The horse whinnied and rocked its head up and down once.

  “Did you like that one, Soph?” Randall patted the beast’s neck. “Well, you’re in luck. I’ve got plenty more for the ride ahead.”

  “So, if you’re driving, then I call shotgun.”

  “Isn’t that a given? There are only two seats.”

  “No. I mean...” winking at Bentley while lifting the saddle scabbard’s flap...

  Having told her about what he would be putting into the leather sheath, the standing man chuckled while regarding the devilish look cascading over her features.

  “...I call,” Devlin slipped the last three fingers of her right hand through a lever loop, withdrew a long gun, and rested the stock’s black, solid rubber recoil pad on her right thigh, muzzle pointing skyward, “shotgun.”

  Randall pivoted in the saddle, “Oh, wow,” his jaw falling open when he spied a lever action rifle, its shiny, chrome-plated metal components contrasting with the dark ‘furniture’ of the stock and forend. “That’s a beauty.”

  “I think you have,” Devlin pointed at the corner of her mouth, “a little drool on your lip right there, Noah.”

  He tossed her a quick smirk to acknowledge the verbal jab then went back to ogling the firearm. “That’s a Henry, isn’t it?”

  “Yup.” She twisted her wrist back and forth, and the rifle went with the motion. “Big Boy All-Weather in 45 Colt.”

  He pointed. “And it has a side loading gate, too.”

  “Ten in the tube plus...” Devlin worked the lever to chamber a round, then eased the hammer down, before plucking a 1.6-inch straight-walled spare cartridge from the buttstock ammo carrier and thumbing the round past the loading gate and into the magazine, “...one in the chamber.”

  Staring at the Henry, Randall licked his lips, glimpsed the reins he held, came back to the gun, then eyed her while lifting the reins an inch. “Wanna trade?”

  Devlin whipped off a single headshake. “Nope. You wanted to drive, pardner, so,” she slapped him on the shoulder blade, “giddyap.”

  “Had I known,” he gestured toward the Big Boy, “that was in there, I’d have gladly given you the reins.”

  Sophia sounded off with a short whinny.

  Not taking his eyes off the rifle, he patted her neck. “No offense, Soph. You know I love you.”

  “Well, you know what they say,” Devlin paused a couple beats, “you snooze you lose.”

  Hearing his words from earlier, he confronted her, a scowl on his face.

  She sold the humor with a smile.

  He snorted out a laugh. “That didn’t take long to come back and bite me in the hind end.”

  ∞=∞=∞=∞=∞=∞=∞

  .

  Chapter 33

  You Don’t Believe Me?

  6:05 P.M.

  Hoping to cut into Duke Hammer’s lead, Devlin and Randall had gone over the mountain instead of taking the path around. Except for a ten-minute break at a mountain lake, where Randall had used a rock to break through a thin layer of ice so Sophia could get a drink, the agents had spent two-and-a-half hours in the saddle before joining up with the trail their quarry had most likely taken.

  Now ten minutes down the trail, taking a bend in the path, Randall eased back the reins. “Whoa. Whoa.”

  The horse stopped.

  Devlin withdrew the Henry Big Boy rifle from its scabbard, “I’ll check it out,” then dismounted.

  “Not without me, you won’t.” He got down, tied the Quarter Horse to a nearby branch, and drew his Walther.

  Bent at the knees, their heads pivoting left and right, the twosome approached an object in their way.

  Leading by a step, her rifle pressed into her right shoulder, Devlin reached the overturned motorcycle first and brushed snow away from the machine. “It looks like the one they escaped on.” She put her left palm to the engine. Three beats. “I’m getting a little heat, so,” she stood and surveyed the terrain, “he can’t be too far ahead of us.”

  Randall squatted beside her and touched the engine while eyeing the snow further down the path.

  She glanced at him. “What...you don’t believe me?”

  “No. I do. I’m just trying to warm up my fingers.” He pointed with his pistol, “I can just make out footprints up ahead,” before he made an arcing motion with his arm. “They’re following the trail northward.” He stood and holstered the PPQ45.

  She lowered her long gun. “Now that he’s on foot, we’ll make some real gains. Let’s get going.”

  Randall scratched his chin while looking west toward the mountain ridge.

  Having taken three steps toward the hor
se, Devlin stopped and turned back. “You coming?”

  He faced north and felt the sting of snow pellets hitting him head on. “I want to catch this guy as bad as you do, Jess, but,” his body shuddered, as he turned to greet her, “you heard Bentley back there. We don’t want to be stumbling around out here in the dark.”

  She spied her watch. “We still have more than two hours of daylight left.”

  He gestured. “Those mountains to our west will cut an hour off that time. And now that we’re on the northern slope of,” Randall pointed beyond her shoulder, toward the south, “that mountain...we’ll be heading into the teeth of the storm, which,” he looked skyward and hunched his shoulders, “seems to have picked up steam.”

  Holding the Big Boy by the receiver in her left hand, letting the rifle hang loosely at her side, she saw what he was seeing.

  “I’ll keep on pushing if you want to, but,” he paused, “I vote for using whatever light we have left to find—or make—some shelter for the night.” A beat. “And with Hammer on foot, he’s going to be forced to do the same thing before dark sets in. If he doesn’t, then,” Randall huffed, “well, then Mother Nature will end up doing our job for us.”

  Devlin filled her lungs and sighed before brushing snow away from her face, out of her hair, and off her clothing. “I suppose you’re right.” She glanced around. “I’m not seeing much out here in the way of shelter, though.”

  Digging out the map, “Come here and,” he unzipped his winter jacket and took a knee, “make us an umbrella with this.”

  She kneeled in front of him and spread apart his jacket to create a makeshift tent for him to display the atlas while keeping it free of snow.

  “Okay. I’m guessing we joined up with the trail that goes around the mountain right about,” he brushed white pellets away from the paper, “here.”

  Devlin got closer to him and brought his jacket up higher. “Is that better?”

  “Yeah. Thanks.” His forehead nearly touching hers, he sent his finger in a zigzag pattern over the two-dimensional landscape. “If I’m reading this right, that red dot there is another one of Denny’s cabins. Looks to be about a half mile away.”

  “To the northeast, too. So, we’d still be going somewhat north...and not fall as far behind Hammer.”

  Randall righted his head and glanced over his left shoulder. “It should be,” he pointed, “right through that pass.”

  “That’s what I’m thinking as well.” She nodded a moment later. “All right. I’m on board. Let’s,” she tipped her head back and was slapped in the face by snow pellets and a rush of cold wind, “let’s see if we can get out of this crap for a few hours.”

  *******

  TWENTY MINUTES LATER...

  Standing inside a cabin, their heads cranked backwards, their clothing covered in white, Devlin and Randall gaped at a big hole in the roof.

  Snow floated through the opening, drifted downward, and coated the southern half of the structure.

  “Maybe that’s why,” he squinted at splintered rafters, “why this place was the only cabin on the map marked with a red dot.”

  “Do you think it’s safe...to stay here, I mean?”

  “I’m thinking so.” He pointed upward. “Those beams right there are rotted out. That’s why,” he motioned toward the large section of roof that had collapsed, “this fell in. But the,” he wagged his pointer finger back and forth above his head, “the rest of the boards up there appear to be in good shape, though.”

  Devlin righted her head and gave the small cabin a once-over; stone fireplace on the north wall, overturned kitchen table in the middle of the space, demolished bunk beds under the fallen roof, two wooden, straight-back chairs along the west wall, snow everywhere.

  Randall observed the interior while setting the horn bags and sleeping bag on the chairs. “Tidy things up a bit and run a broom over the floor,” he tossed out a nod of approval, “it’ll be just like a four-star hotel room.”

  Shuffling toward the fireplace, she jabbed a finger skyward. “And the big, gaping hole in the ceiling?”

  “I’ll bring it up with management at checkout.” He regarded her. “Tell me...why do you women always nitpick at the little things?”

  She cranked her head around to lift eyebrows at him. “We women?”

  Raising a finger, “Did I say women?” he retreated toward the open front door. “I meant to say people.” Not giving her a chance to scold him, he barreled ahead. “Before this goes any further, I’m going to get Sophia settled in for the night.” He gave her a smile then closed the door on his way out.

  Envisioning his million-dollar smile, a tactic she was sure he had used in the past to get himself out of ‘hot water’ with the opposite sex, Devlin grinned and turned toward the fireplace. Wise choice. She blew snow off the lid of a steel can before opening it. “So, I guess I’ll just,” she offered up her best impression of her partner, “tidy things up a bit in here.”

  ∞=∞=∞=∞=∞=∞=∞

  .

  Chapter 34

  Fire

  7:16 P.M.

  Grasping the saddle, letting it rest against his thighs, Randall stood in the doorway staring in the direction from which the prolonged howl had just come, his mind envisioning the animal that had most likely made the sound.

  Near the fireplace, Devlin looked at him. “Do you think it’s the same one we saw earlier?”

  “Could be.” He pivoted right, shut the door with an elbow, and laid the tack on the floor in front of the chairs.

  “Is it going to be a problem?”

  “If so, I’m sure Sophia will let us know.” He turned to face a roaring fire and see Devlin hunched over in front of it, warming her hands. “Hey, you started a fire.”

  She spied him. “You sound surprised.”

  “More like grateful.” He took a knee on her nine o’clock, stuck out his palms, and let out a groan. “Oh, yeah. That’s what I’m talking about.”

  “I found some smaller sticks and twigs outside to get it going.” A beat. “That reminds me.” She pointed at a couple logs beside the hearth. “There’s a stack of firewood out back. You’ll have to bring some more in.”

  He nodded. “I’m curious. How’d you get the fire started...the hand drill method, fire plow?”

  She picked up a small box and shook it.

  Hearing tiny sticks smacking against cardboard, he huffed. “So, you cheated then.”

  “Some like to work harder. I choose to work smarter.”

  Randall chuckled. “Either way, I’m glad I didn’t have to make it.” He stood and looked around their ‘home’ before glancing up at the hole letting in cold and snow. “Now we just need to figure out how to keep more of that heat closer to us.” He walked to the fallen roof, stooped, lifted the section three feet off the floor, and dragged it.

  Devlin hustled across the room and took hold of the heavy weight. “What,” she grunted, “what are you doing?”

  “We can,” he groaned, “use this as a...okay, set it down now.”

  They set the roof on the floor.

  “We can use this as a lean-to...to shield us from the snow while this,” huffing and puffing, he righted the overturned kitchen table, “this should...”

  Together, they positioned the table two feet away from the fireplace.

  “...keep the heat from escaping...at least less of it from escaping, anyway.” He went back to the roof section. “Ready?”

  On his left, she bent at the knees and curled fingers under the panel.

  “Let’s stand it on end and walk it toward the wall.”

  Each of them letting out a sustained groan, they lifted the roof, walked it up to the fireplace, and eased it against the wall before piling the rubble from the destroyed bunk beds at the base of the lean-to, creating makeshift chocks to keep their shelter from sliding.

  “Whew.” Randall wiped his hands and brow then examined their work. “That should do it.”

  Devlin un
rolled the two-person sleeping bag Bentley had included and spread the pouch out under the table.

  Randall gathered up two blankets and started dragging a thin, raggedy mattress closer to the fire.

  She saw him. “What’s that for?”

  “You can have the bag. I’ll sleep on this.”

  She leveled a finger at the cushion he was lugging. “You’re not sleeping on that filthy mattress with who knows what crawling around inside of it.” She swung the same finger toward the corner. “Put it back. You’re sleeping with me. Clothes on. Boots off. Socks optional.”

  He let go of the mattress. “Are you sure that’s wise?”

  She noted an air of stoicism about him. “I trust you’ll be on your best behavior.”

  “Of course, I will. But that’s not what I’m talking about.”

  She ran the zipper down the sleeping bag. “Then what’s the problem?”

  “The problem is,” he scratched at the stubble under his chin, “from past experience, I’ve learned that when a woman gets too close to me, too close to,” he motioned toward himself, “this...”

  Still grasping the zipper, Devlin stopped to spy him.

  “...she loses all self-control and reverts back to her base instincts, passions. And she can’t be held accountable for whatever she does next.”

  Devlin cocked her head and squinted at him before laughing out loud a beat later.

  Randall frowned. “I anticipated some chuckling, but did you have to go full-on belly roar?” He put on a fake pout. “Kind of hurts.”

  “I’m sorry,” she waved a hand between her and her work partner, “but you had such a serious look on your face when you said that.”

  “I know. The delivery is the most important part of good humor.” He poked a thumb behind him. “I’m going to get that firewood now.” He turned away from her.

  “Good idea.” She opened the top half of the bag. “Oh, and Noah?”

  He grabbed the doorknob and pivoted to face her.

  “I just want you to know,” she cracked a thin smile before turning serious again and putting a flat hand to her chest, “I promise to keep my base instincts and inner passions,” her grin returned, “under...”