by Ray Gorham
Beyond her connection with Kyle, Deer Creek had sounded like a good place to be—rural, but still with a sense of community, a river, mountains, and nice people—an ideal location and base from which to rebuild. Rose stuffed the map in her pocket and circled her house, looking for a few last-minute things to take. Pictures of the boys, her driver’s license, address book, and first aid kit were all tucked into her bags. She was making a final sweep of the house when she heard the bone chilling and unmistakable sound of an engine.
“Why so soon?” she cried out to herself as her stomach sank and the strength drained from her legs. She ran to the front door on weak legs and scanned the road. A couple miles away she saw the red truck heading her direction, followed closely by a white SUV. The vehicles approached slowly, their occupants probably cautious, unaware that it was a lonely, middle-aged woman who’d done so much damage. The vehicles stopped, and Rose watched briefly as men piled out, two from the truck and four from the SUV. “I love you, Max,” she shouted at his lifeless body still lying in the driveway. Then she hurried for the back door.
Smokey whinnied as she ran towards him, sensing her anxiety. “Easy boy,” she said as she untied his halter and rubbed his nose. “We have to go, pal. I need you to hang in there for me.” Bags tied behind the saddle made mounting difficult, but she got her leg over, swung the horse’s head to the side and kicked hard with her heels. Smokey turned and started away from the house. Dusty resisted as her lead rope pulled tight, then she too made the turn and followed behind Smokey.
The direct trail to the trees was in full view of the parked vehicles. Rose swung south of the house to avoid being seen, down into the creek bottom and up the far side. She was fifty yards from the trees when she heard the two vehicles draw closer. “Lets go, Smokey,” she urged, coaxing him to a run. The rope connected to Dusty pulled tight on Smokey’s saddle. Rose knew her horses’ loads were heavier than usual, but they needed to get into the cover of the trees in a hurry, or things would go bad fast.
She bounced in the saddle as the horses cantered towards the trees. The packs slapped against the horses’ sides, making noise, but not enough to drown out the whine of vehicles accelerating towards the house. Tires skidded to a stop in the gravel of her driveway, followed almost immediately by slamming door and a flurry of shots. Rose shrunk down low, certain bullets were coming her way. Instead she heard glass breaking at the house as countless weapons were fired, then someone shouted. With her horses nearly galloping, Rose hurried to take a final look at her home as they reached the shelter of the trees.
A single shot echoed as she turned, and a bullet careened by overhead. She spotted one of the men with his rifle aimed in her direction. “Go!” she screamed as the horses slowed for the trees, kicking hard and willing them into the safety of the forest. They plunged headlong into the growth, the branches clawing and slapping at her, trying to pull her from her mount as she broke virgin trail through the heavy branches. Rose gripped the saddle and tucked her head behind Smokey’s neck while kicking furiously as more shots rang out.
They were deep into the forest before she reined the animals in, allowing them to pick their way more carefully through the trees. She wiped blood from a scratch on her cheek as she drew the horses to a stop and listened. No more gunshots, but she could hear the dreaded engines sounding closer. “Please, no!” she cried, spurring the horses forward yet again.
The vehicles were moving towards her, likely following an old trail her sons had cut with their 4-wheelers years back, one that led from the house up onto the ridge overlooking the valley. The trail was narrow, bumpy, and hard to follow, especially after years of disuse, and unfortunately, it went in the direction she needed to go and would bring them far closer to her than she wanted.
“Move it, Smokey!” she urged, once again kicking him in the flanks. The gunshots had him on edge, and he lurched ahead, almost throwing her from the saddle. They pushed through the trees, picking their trail better than in the mad dash into the forest, but fear and urgency still overtook caution, and Rose endured a steady pummeling from low hanging branches.
Smokey pressed forward, sensing Rose’s panic and needing little coaching from her. He avoided the narrowest paths between trees, as the abuse from the branches was no more enjoyable for him than for her. Sweat lathered on his shoulders, and his breathing was labored. The trail was just ahead and visible to Rose. She glanced towards the house and saw nothing, despite the loud echo of the vehicles rolling through the trees.
She took a deep breath and drove forward, emerging from the trees and onto the trail before turning right. Free of the trees, Smokey and Dusty quickened their pace, the open space allowing them to run freer and faster. Rose was headed for a trail that cut across the side of the mountain a half-mile further up the hill. It was the trail she used to visit her neighbors and was familiar to her and her horses, plus it was winding and rocky, and far too narrow for any four-wheeled vehicle to follow.
Maybe there was a chance she could find that trail if she avoided the exposure of the road, but a rocky bluff cut across above them, and she wasn’t sure that she could pass it anywhere other than through a gap that the road used. She made a quick decision and stayed on the trail. They had galloped for two hundred yards when Rose felt Smokey suddenly surge ahead. She looked back to see Dusty falling behind, the lead rope dangling close to the horse’s feet. “Whoa, Smokey!” she shouted, reining him in and turning him back downhill towards his mother. He fought the change in direction, sensing the danger behind them, but Rose forced him back to Dusty, now walking slowly towards them.
Rose quickly leapt from the saddle, land awkwardly and stumbling into Dusty before catching herself on the pack. Rose snatched the end dangling from her saddle and tied it to the other end on Dusty’s halter. The horse eyed her as it breathed deeply, the air billowing in front of her in great silver clouds. “Time to go, girl,” Rose said as she remounted Smokey. A glance downhill told her that the white SUV, mostly obscured by the trees, was bouncing along the trail just three hundred yards back.
“Quick Smokey,” Rose said, urging him forward. “Before they see us.” They took off once again, driven harder by the glimpse of their pursuers so close behind. As they rounded a curve in the trail, Rose saw the path she wanted fifty yards ahead. The road they were on made a steep climb through the cut in the bluff, then turned right and ran along the ridge for a couple of miles before dropping back down on the far side of the woods in the direction of the highway. Rose’s trail cut left where the road turned right, followed the ridge for a distance, then dropped down on the far side into the cover of the trees, and angled away from her house and towards a neighboring ranch.
Rose held her breath as the horses slowed for the steeper climb to reach the fork where the trail and road diverged …thirty yards…twenty yards…ten yards. She was breathing a little easier as they turned onto the horse trail when she saw the vehicle round the bend fifty yards back and come into full view. She made eye contact with the driver, then saw the front seat passenger point towards her. The vehicle accelerated, bouncing wildly on the rough road and throwing its occupants hard against the roof.
Smokey was breathing hard, but Rose had to ignore his discomfort and drove her heels into his sides. “Last time, boy. Let’s go.” They raced down the trail, the horses rushing hooves on the rocks sounding like a stampede of a dozen animals. Behind her, Rose could see the SUV, an old Ford Bronco, rocking side to side as it accelerated up the steep section of road, going far faster than she imagined it could. “Run!” she screamed, knowing Smokey was approaching his limit. She felt one of his hooves slip on the rocks and he started to go down, then miraculously he caught himself and dashed forward, straining at the bit in his mouth.
They raced ahead, Rose ducking low, afraid to look back. From the sound of the engine, she knew the Bronco was fighting the steep grade of the last section of road. She could see, just a little further ahead, where the trail turned and dropp
ed down, hidden from her pursuers by the trees, where they would be safe, out of range, and impossible to follow except on foot. The Bronco’s engine went quiet, then doors slammed and men shouted, followed by gunshots just as Smokey turned into the cover of the trees.
Having struggled to breathe since the Bronco came bouncing towards them, Rose finally let out a lungful of air as they rushed headlong into the cover of the trees, and further down the hillside, quickly putting more and more distance between them. Her whole body shook, and she hunched forward, grasping Smokey’s mane in her hands, squeezing, pressing tight with her legs to stay in control, knowing she didn’t have the luxury of allowing her emotions to take over.
They rode non-stop for thirty minutes, gradually slowing as Dusty labored more and more to keep up. The sound of the vehicle had faded in the distance, and the ensuing silence was a welcome relief. They approached a stream where the horses could drink and rest, miles from the men chasing her and safe from the threat of gunfire.
At the stream, Rose dismounted and stretched her legs. It was dark and cold, but there was less ice than was typical for mid-January. Rose rubbed Smokey as he dipped his head to the water. “Good boy. Good boy,” she repeated, briefly resting her forehead on his shoulder. After untying Dusty, Rose led the mare to the stream, noticing a limp as she turned. “You okay, girl?” she questioned while patting Dusty’s neck and checking the saddle. A dark streak on the right rear leg caught her eye, and Rose reached out to inspect it, drawing back fingers that were wet and sticky with blood.
Rose looked closer at the wound, finding that it was round and raw and big enough to fit her index finger in. Dusty shied away as Rose probed the edges of the wound, fresh blood still draining from it. “You poor girl.”
A short walk up the path revealed a spotty trail of blood in the snow as far back as Rose could see. Tears pooled in her eyes as she walked back to her horse. “I didn’t know you were hurt,” she said, stroking Dusty’s nose. “I’m so sorry I did this to you. You poor girl; it’s just not right.”
CHAPTER 13
Wednesday, January 18th
Deer Creek, MT
Hearing a tapping on the front door, Jennifer jumped from the couch and quickly swung the door open. “Hi, Ty,” she said, looking past him as she stifled a yawn. “Where’s Kyle? Isn’t he with you?”
Ty Lewis shook his head. “It’s just me. Can I come in?”
Jennifer stepped to the side, allowing him to enter. “I went down there, you know, but they wouldn’t let me in. Said he couldn’t have visitors.”
“I know. I saw you. That’s why I’m here. Thought you needed to know what’s going on.”
Jennifer dropped anxiously onto the couch and motioned for Ty to do the same. “When are they going to let him come home? He will come home, won’t he?”
Ty pressed his clasped hands against his mouth and took a deep breath. “I don’t know how much I should say, but things look, well, they don’t look good, Jennifer. I hate to say it, but I’m more than a little worried.”
“But he didn’t do anything. How can things be so bad?” Jennifer hurled her words at him, her hands balled into fists.
The room was dark, and the moon, being the only source of light, cast long, gray shadows over everything. The whites of Ty’s eyes stood out in the darkness, flashing each time he blinked. “Listen, I’m with you on this, but it’s not about you and me. The girl that died, her daddy is a big shot over there. He had a little grocery store and a couple other businesses, so he’s really taken care of the town for the past few months. They’re all pretty riled about what happened, understandably so.”
“It doesn’t matter who her family is. Kyle didn’t do anything.” Jennifer was nearly shouting, her voice echoing in the room.
“Hey, I believe that,” Ty said softly, holding his hands up in protest. “I believe that, but the situation looks all wrong. Kyle was in the wrong place at the wrong time. The body was found in his house, and he was the one on patrol that night. Dale and his mother both swear the girl left by midnight. No one else saw or heard anything.”
“He would never do anything like that,” Jennifer said, still worked up. “I know Kyle. He might have a bit of a temper. Everyone does. But he’d never hurt anyone that way.”
Ty looked directly at Jennifer. “There’s going to be a trial. It’ll probably start next week. It’ll be over quick, maybe two or three days.”
“Will he come home after that?”
“If they find him innocent.”
“What if they don’t?”
Ty took a deep breath. “Jenn. It’s rape and murder. It won’t be good.”
CHAPTER 14
Thursday, January 19th
Central Wyoming
Lou Thompson knelt over the injured horse, shaking his head slowly. “It’s no good, Rose. There’s nothing I can do for her.” The sun was just coming up, and the wind that swept down over the hillside and howled through the trees was cold and biting. Lou’s worn cowboy hat was pulled down tight on his head, the collar of his jacket turned up to block the wind. “She won’t stand, and it looks like she’s been laying here for quite some time.” He turned towards Rose. “She isn’t going to make it.”
“Are you sure?” Rose stood next to Lou, her hands pushed deep in the pockets of her heavy coat, watching while he examined Dusty.
“It’s a miracle she made it this far. Look how big the wound is, and there’s no exit hole so the bullet is still inside, probably lodged in her hip. Horses have a lot of muscle there, which probably slowed the bullet enough to keep from shattering the bone, but that tissue is all damaged, and she’s lost a lot of blood. The fact that she walked this far is incredible, but that’s the end of the miracle. It’s only a matter of time and how much we’re willing to let her suffer.” The wind gusted again, pelting them with snow and ice. “Let’s go inside where it’s warm.”
They walked to the big ranch house in silence, shielding themselves from the weather with their arms. Once inside, Rose took off her boots and dropped down hopelessly onto a couch near the fireplace. “It’s just not right, Lou. That horse shouldn’t have to pay for my mistakes. I should have left sooner.”
Lou slowly took off his coat and hung it on a stand by the front door. He was a fourth generation rancher and owned one of the largest spreads in their part of Wyoming. Just under 18,000 acres of his own, along with 6,400 acres of federal land leases, gave him miles of solitude and security. At 55 years old, Lou still looked like he was in his early forties. Other than a six-inch scar on his right cheek he was movie star handsome, standing six foot two and built long and lean, as if he trained for marathons instead of running his ranch. He was showing signs of aging, though, as his long mustache was a little grayer each time Rose visited, and his head a little more bald.
As a little girl, Rose had dreamt about growing up, getting married, and living on a ranch, and both Lou and his property, from a physical standpoint, more than exceeded everything she’d aspired to. It was his wife, Sonja, however, who Rose really felt a kinship with. She was Nordic pretty, intelligent, witty, and such a catch that Lou had gone against his father’s wishes in marrying her, then a waitress in her immigrant parents’ restaurant, when he was just twenty-one and not yet done with college.
Lou continued dryly, unmoved by Rose’s emotion. “I don’t know about the blame, but we probably shouldn’t wait too long on the animal. That injury will keep her from standing, and the longer we wait, the more she’ll suffer. If you want,” Lou said, approaching the fire with his hands held out to warm them. “I can shoot her for you, or you can do it. It doesn’t matter to me. I’ll have to cut her up and take her away from the house though, so the carcass doesn’t draw the wolves in. We have enough problems with them as it is.”
“Good heavens, Lou,” Sonja said, emerging from the bedroom. “Show a little empathy. Dusty isn’t an old car or one of your steers; she’s a part of Rose’s family. You’re so business-like when it c
omes to the animals.” She shook her head and rolled her eyes, giving Rose an apologetic look.
Lou turned away from Sonja and closed his eyes. “They’re all just things. If you let yourself get attached to them, then you have problems like this. I am sorry though, Rose. I guess maybe I was a little insensitive.”
Rose gazed numbly into the fire. “It’s okay. You’re not the one who put her at risk.”
“You can’t blame yourself,” Sonja said. “This is bigger than all of us. That we’ve made it this long says something about us. Lou, you just go take care of Rose’s horse for her.”
“No,” Rose interrupted. “Dusty is my responsibility; I should do it. Just give me a minute to get my head right.”
“I’ll go work on some breakfast,” Sonja said as she excused herself, giving Lou a stern look.
A few minutes later the sound of the front door closing was followed by a lone crack from a rifle.
CHAPTER 15
Tuesday, January 24th
Deer Creek, MT
Jennifer walked as close to Kyle as she could get. He was flanked on both sides by guards, with two more following close behind. The guards were all well armed, but with a mismatch of weapons that reflected the improvised nature of the community’s operations. A small crowd trailed behind, and Jennifer could see people up ahead, heading towards the community building from all directions. The trial was to begin that morning and was the most anticipated, talked about event the community had experienced since the EMP, almost five months before.