More shots rang out, ricocheting around us. Roberta ducked down as far as she could in the driver’s seat; so far I wondered how she saw over the steering wheel.
Adrenaline pumped through me and I thought my heart would stop from the fear squeezing it.
It was times like these that I wished I’d learned to shoot a gun. I’m sure Roberta wished the same, since her useless rifle lay beside her.
We burst through low hanging pine branches at the top of the hill. To my surprise, Roberta spun the car around, and stopped it. She reached for her rifle, jumped out and braced herself on the door, and aimed at the road across the river where the Jeep bounced along, leaving a cloud of telltale dust that helped us gage their distance.
“Get out and head down that track,” she said in a surprisingly even tone. “I’ll follow you shortly. Don’t stop until you see the cabin. It’s about a mile and a half into the woods. Stay on the trail, don’t veer left or right, or I’ll never find you.”
I grabbed Dak, pulled Kitty around to the side of the four-wheeler, and stopped. “Roberta. There are two of them! And they have high powered rifles.”
“I know, honey. Don’t worry. I’m a helluva better shot than they are, even with this old piece.”
The Jeep came into view, flashing behind the low-hanging pine and balsam branches. When he spotted us, the driver slid to a stop behind the tree line and rolled slowly toward the opening in the trees.
I started down the trail with Kitty and Dak, but constantly looked over my shoulder. Roberta let loose two shots. I heard shouts, then a scream, followed by the sound of the Jeep tumbling into the river.
She’d blown out both tires, causing the Jeep to swerve over the ledge.
In seconds, Roberta caught up with us, motioning us onward. “Don’t slow down. They’re probably not dead, just incapacitated. They’ll be after us before you know it. So move, ladies. Move!”
Chapter Twenty-Six
The log cabin was set in thick pines, wedged between sturdy trunks of century old trees. A thick overhead canopy of branches shaded the ground and cooled the air. Behind it, a knoll dropped to a narrow stream that rushed over jagged black outcroppings of rock, frothing and spraying as it spilled down a gorge and out of sight.
Roberta reached behind the woodpile on the porch for the key and opened the door. “Hurry, come inside now.”
Once inside, she shed my pack, set the gun on a table, and pulled us to her. Kitty shook and held on tight to both of us.
I felt like the blood would never stop skittering through my veins. “What if they come after us?” I whispered.
My sweet aunt patted our shoulders and stroked my hair. “Shhh. It’ll be okay, my little chickadees. We beat them at the river, and we’ll do it again.” She continued to comfort with her gentle movements and soft voice. “Listen. If they survived, they may follow us here. Or they might’ve gone back for another vehicle. It’s hard to say. But don’t worry. No matter what happens, I’ve got a plan.”
We hugged for a few more minutes until we calmed down. Dak circled and flopped on the rug by the cold hearth.
“This place was originally my grandfather’s. He built it during the prohibition era. Used to be a still right out back, just a few dozen yards from the river.”
I secretly wished Roberta’s grandfather had left some of his product behind. The idea of a stiff drink was appealing. I needed something to give me strength, other than faith in my aunt.
What would Quinn think when he reached Roberta’s place and we were gone? With her truck still in the driveway, he’d know we didn’t leave on our own. Would he think they’d kidnapped us? Or worse, killed us and buried our bodies somewhere on a remote Adirondack Mountain?
Would anyone happen upon the trashed Jeep by the riverside? Would they find two dead guys, or had our attackers escaped injury? And if they escaped, would they follow the trail near the four-wheeler to come after us?
It could take days before anyone wandered into that wilderness. Maybe some hikers would report the Jeep, and Copper would hear about it. Maybe they’d trace the plates to someone from the reservation, and they’d put two and two together.
I almost wanted to follow the trail back and see if the guys were dead or alive.
I said almost. No way would I want to run into them face-to-face on the trail.
I tried to stop my racing mind and inspected the cabin instead.
Made from sturdy logs, the simple square room made me feel like I was in an episode of Little House on the Prairie. On one end, a stone hearth filled most of the wall. In front of it, an old saggy couch and two armchairs beckoned. Overhead in the loft was a sleeping area, with two sets of bunks and a rustic bureau. I spied the leaning outhouse through a back window, and noticed a lever pump by the sink in the kitchen not far from a black cooking stove. There must be a dug well, probably like the one at Tall Pines.
A few pots and pans hung on the wall in the kitchen, and one cabinet held an assortment of dishes.
Roberta busied herself at the scarred wooden table by the sink, where she dumped the contents of my pack and her pockets. “We’ve got work to do, ladies.”
I stood beside her and watched her organize with quick, nimble fingers. “What is all this stuff?” I asked.
“I’ll explain. But first, please load my gun up with these cartridges and prop it near the door.”
I hesitantly accepted the green shells, but with her careful instruction, I loaded the gun. “Done. Now what?”
“Lock the door and throw the bolt.”
Kitty stood and watched, eyes wide while I did as Roberta ordered.
My aunt didn’t take her eyes off the assortment of strange items she arranged on the table before us. Some of it I recognized as rope and fishing line, batteries, small lanterns, and dried fruit. A few of the other items looked like they’d come back from the war as souvenirs.
“Kitty, I need you to pull all the shades down. But leave that one facing the trail cracked open. I need you to keep watch. If you see those men approaching, let me know.”
I wondered if Kitty had understood, but after a moment’s hesitation, she straightened, closed the shades, and walked to the window, where she perched on a chair with her eyes glued to the trail.
“Marcella. See that rug in front of the hearth?”
I nodded. “Of course.”
“Grab one end and flip it over.”
“Okay.” I walked to the red and blue rug and lifted the fringe on one end. Dust wafted up and made me sneeze. Walking backwards, I folded it back over itself. “Is this a cellar?”
“Sort of.” Roberta lit a gas lamp and joined me, pointing to a metal ring in the floor. “Lift that door, but be careful, the stairs are steep.”
Kitty watched while I pulled up the trap door. “Whoa, I feel cold air blowing up.”
I had envisioned a little dugout cellar, or perhaps a hiding place for money or valuables. Instead, I found wooden stairs and railings.
“What is it?” I asked.
“I’ll show you.” She turned to Kitty. “Scream if you see anyone, okay? Or run over here and stomp on the floor boards really hard.”
Kitty nodded, her expression uncertain.
Roberta walked over, whispered something in Kitty’s ear, and squeezed her arm. “We won’t be long, honey. Just showing Marcella a few things.”
Kitty’s tense shoulders relaxed a fraction of an inch.
Roberta returned with the lantern and headed down the stairs, mumbling, “I’ll get that girl to talk if it kills me.”
I followed, expecting a musty smell, but was greeted with fresh, cool air.
My aunt hung the lantern on a hook in the ceiling, revealing a dirt-floored room that stretched about fifteen feet in both directions. On one side, shelves were lined with canned goods and bottled water.
“These provisions look new, Roberta.”
She nodded. “Uh huh. Harrison and I have been camping out here this summer. We like to k
eep it stocked just in case.”
I raised one eyebrow. “Really?”
“Really. And stop looking at me like that.” She took my hand. “Here, let me show you the escape door.”
I followed her to the far end of the cellar, where she slid aside a hinged shelf, then opened a creaky wooden door. “This is how my grandfather escaped the law when they came around.”
A few rickety steps led down to an open cavern, now lit by natural light.
“If you follow that little stream, it takes you out to a cave opening near the river downstream from the house.”
She turned me toward her. “Listen. If things go bad, I want you to bring Kitty and Dak down here. It’s going to be up to you to save her, okay? Like I said, you follow that stream, head for the daylight, and when things seem safe, follow the riverbed down to the next road. Take it all the way to the paved road, then take a left. It’ll eventually bring you back to Route 30.”
I stared at her, shaking my head. “No way. We won’t leave you alone to fight those killers.”
She stared me down. “Listen, honey. I promised your father I’d watch out for you when he died. I have no intention of breaking a promise now.”
“But…”
“No buts. You listen to me. We’ll all be fine. I’ve taken on worse than these guys, anyway. We had a bit of a war with drug runners a few years back. Harrison and I and his ranch hands had to take them on by ourselves. They tried to set up an operation out in his woods. He showed me a few tricks he brought back from ‘Nam.”
My jaw dropped. “You and Harrison fought drug runners?”
“Yep. But let’s not get distracted. I need to show you the weapon cabinet.”
Back in the main part of the cellar, Roberta opened a dusty cabinet door. “Here. We’ve got a few pistols and two more rifles. Choose your poison.”
I stepped back. “I don’t even know how to shoot.”
“Honey, you just aim and pull the trigger. Remember last year how Sky told you to use that pistol?”
“Sort of. But I never fired it.”
“Well, hopefully you won’t have to fire this one, either. Here. It’s loaded.” She held out the smallest handgun and showed me how to work the safety. “Safety’s on, now. Just tuck it in your waistband and follow me back upstairs.” She hesitated. “Oh, and grab three bottles of water on your way up.”
The steel felt cold next to my skin, but I tried to ignore the whole idea that we were being chased by assassins who had powerful weapons that could blow apart a tree trunk with one shot. Or a head.
I grabbed the water and followed Roberta upstairs.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Roberta took two bottles of the water, handing one to Kitty and draining the other in seconds. “Drink up, ladies. We need to stay hydrated.”
I did as she said, hoping it didn’t make me have to use the dreaded outhouse sooner. I could just picture myself sitting on the wooden hole when Kitty’s would-be killer’s arrived.
Not cool.
I dug out my vial of Valor essential oil blend and liberally applied it to my wrists and over my heart. I needed its sustaining strength. After I passed it around to the others, I tucked it back in my pocket, feeling much more focused.
“So what’s all this stuff for, Roberta?” I asked, sweeping my hand in the direction of her odd collection on the table.
“I’m setting some tripwire traps, honey. While I’m at work, I need you two to be lookouts. I’m gonna post you on either side of the trail. “Kitty?”
Kitty’s eyes swung to Roberta from her post at the window.
Roberta picked up the rifle and walked toward her. “Do you know how to shoot?”
The girl nodded. She took the rifle and aimed it toward the window, her eyes narrowed as she sited her imagined prey.
Roberta smiled. “Good girl. I knew you’d be an asset.” She hurried to the table and gathered her things. “Okay, ladies. Let’s get to work.”
***
Two hours later, we sat inside taking turns keeping watch through the windows. Roberta had climbed trees, winched up old logs high in the trees, strung wire, and booby-trapped the trail to the cabin, including a few kablam! type gizmos around the sides and back of the property. She walked us through them so we’d memorize their locations—and not trigger the traps ourselves in a panic—and with that tour through the mini-war field, my admiration for my aunt soared.
She told us she picked up all the tricks from Harrison, who I now realized was a much more important part of her life than she let on earlier. She’d been awfully discreet about her relationship with him up to now. I hadn’t even realized she had a relationship. Maybe she was trying to wait it out to be sure it worked. I couldn’t tell. But now when she spoke of him, her eyes sparkled and her mouth turned up, even in the middle of building a protective minefield to save us from the bad guys.
Kitty had found some hawk feathers in the woods while we watched Roberta’s trapping efforts. Now she braided them into our hair with strips of rawhide from a pair of old snowshoes discarded behind the cabin. I paced from one side of the room to the other, checking out the back and side windows and stroking the feather as if it were Quinn’s hand.
I missed him so much it hurt. When you’ve spent the past eight years together for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, when you’ve breathed the same air all day, every day, when you’ve swum in the same lake all summer long, and slept in the same man’s arms all night, every night, the pangs of separation hurt like hell. And the idea of him arriving at Roberta’s for a homecoming only to find me gone made me shiver in fear.
What if the bad guys brought reinforcements to Roberta’s cabin? What if they were waiting for us to return? Would they ambush Quinn? Would they hurt him?
Of course they would. They had weapons meant for warfare and hadn’t hesitated to try to blow our heads off just a few hours earlier.
I shuddered and peered out the window again. I saw nothing but quiet, serene woods with the occasional cottontail rabbit hopping through the brush.
Roberta called us to her, her voice serious. “Girls. It’s time.”
My throat clenched in fear. “How do you know? I didn’t see anything.”
Kitty stiffened, pointing to movement further down the trail.
Roberta put her arms around us briefly and hugged. “Stay strong. Swing open your windows and steady your guns on the sills. I’m going to sneak around the back and attack from the side, behind that big boulder over there. It’s protected, and those bastards won’t expect me to be hunting them.” She emitted a sharp, devilish laugh.
I looked at her, amazed at the animation in her expression. “I love you, Roberta.”
She squeezed my arm, scooted toward the back door, and laughed. “You, too, chickipoo. Now do me proud, ladies.”
Kitty and I exchanged determined glances and rushed to our spots. Dak sat beside me, whimpering a little. Kitty eased her rifle out the window, and I steadied my pistol on the sill.
My pulse pounded in my ears.
I waited.
The first sound was that of a sapling snapping loose from its bindings, dislodging the dead tree that Roberta had winched overhead. The tree thudded to the ground, and a hollow cry came from the trail. I squinted my eyes to make out the figures in the distance. One man was pinned beneath the log, the other was hopping mad. He swore—in English this time—and went to work trying to free his partner’s legs.
Roberta’s head popped up behind the boulder. She held her hand up, signaling us to wait.
In the process of moving the fallen tree trunk, the second man tripped another wire, this time detonating a small bomb that sent him sprawling into the brush.
Unfortunately for us, it didn’t kill him.
Warily casting his eyes from side to side now, he finally slid the log off his partner’s legs and helped him up. The injured man limped toward his weapon that had been tossed into the brush, and now, with fevered determination, the two cr
ept toward us, their eyes sweeping above, below, and around them as they warily approached the cabin.
They were fast learners.
Then again, it wasn’t surprising. Although we didn’t think they were Seneca, they were clearly native, and their ancestors had survived on skills of stealth and keen observation.
The guy with the long hair—apparently the leader—crept forward, swinging his gaze from side to side to inspect the ground and branches around him. The limper followed, gun under his arm.
As they neared us, I noticed each was covered with scratches and cuts that I guessed were due to the tumble down the side of the ravine to the riverbed. At least we’d done some damage.
They stopped about twenty yards from the porch. The limper went down on one knee, steadying his weapon.
Roberta signaled us from the rock, and before the gimpy one could take aim, all three of us began to fire at the men. Although warned, I was shocked at the kick of my gun, and it took me several tries to be able to shoot in the general direction of our assailants. My hands shook badly. I tried to steady my wobbling legs against the wall, and kept squeezing the trigger.
Kitty, on the other hand, picked off the good leg of the limping man on her first shot. He stumbled back with a loud shout, falling to the ground and gripping his thigh.
Roberta’s rifle blew the gun out of the tall guy’s hands before he could position it to fire in response to us.
I have no idea where my shots landed, but they didn’t appear to be anywhere near our two attackers.
At least I made a lot of noise.
The injured man dragged himself off the trail and hid in the brush. The leader showed no fear. He picked up his gun again and blasted it toward Roberta, walking closer and closer to the boulder until he skirted around it and a quiet struggle ensued. I couldn’t see what was happening, and feared the worst. I’d just decided that we ought to go out there to help her when they reappeared around the edge of the granite battleship. He held her pinned in front of him, struggling like a wildcat.
The longhaired leader had pulled a knife from his boot and held it to her neck.
Tall Pines Mysteries: A Mystery/Suspense Boxed Set Page 61