by Sharon Dunn
She tightened the reins to stop Clarence, her mule, and craned her neck looking past Zane at the trail behind them. The men had not followed them.
Zane drew his eyebrows together. “Keep moving, Heather.” Panic tainted his words.
He seemed to know more than he was letting on.
“They didn’t follow us,” she said, but she turned back to face the trail ahead of her and nudged Clarence to start moving again. It would be nuts to think of going to Angel Peak knowing that there were crazy men like that up here. Still, she felt a sense of defeat that they’d had to turn back when they were so close to their goal. She’d been on an emotional roller coaster since she’d learned of her father’s dying wishes. On some level, she’d come to Montana looking for answers. If Stephan—she couldn’t bring herself to call him Dad—had loved her enough to leave her everything, why hadn’t he gotten in touch with her when he was alive? She wanted to be a good daughter even if he hadn’t been a good father, but she wanted this trip to be over so she could sell Big Sky Outfitters and return to her life in California.
Clarence lumbered along.
“Make him go faster. Just because we don’t see them doesn’t mean they’ve given up,” Zane said.
After she kicked Clarence with her heels to get him going, she shouted over her shoulder, “You seem to know who these men are.” Maybe there had been local news stories she wasn’t privy to?
“I’ll explain later. Just go. Keep moving.” The sense of urgency never left his voice.
Heather glanced up the rocky incline as a rumble turned into a roar. Rocks from above them cascaded down the mountain like a waterfall. An avalanche of rocks was coming straight toward her. She spurred Clarence to go faster. Her chest squeezed tight with terror and all the air left her lungs. Rocks crashed against each other. A tremendous thundering noise surrounded her.
Clarence backed up then bucked. She slid off, falling not just off the mule but off the path altogether, tumbling down the side of the mountain. The crashing was all around her as rocks pelted her legs and arms.
Finally, her body came to a stop. The dust settled. She stared up at blue sky, trying to take in what had just happened. The mules brayed on the trail above her but didn’t run. A heavy weight pressed on her leg. The rest of her body felt sore and bruised.
Zane made his way down to her, pulling rocks off her leg where she was trapped. His voice was filled with concern when he asked, “Can you move it?”
Still stunned, she wiggled her foot. “I think I’m just a little beat up.”
He reached out a hand for her. “They caused the avalanche to block the trail. I saw more men up there.” He pulled her to her feet.
So the rockslide hadn’t been an accident.
“There’s no time to clear it. I’m sure they’ll be coming down after us. We’ll get back to Fort Madison another way.” So Zane’s plan was to take her back to town. He climbed up over the rocks then craned his neck back down at her.
Heather moved to follow him but the pain from the bruising slowed her.
“Hurry.” He climbed back up to where the mules stood.
Still a little shaken, she followed. No way could the same men who had come for them in camp have gotten ahead of them on the trail. That meant there must be even more of them chasing Zane and her. She could not process what was happening.
Zane turned his mule around on the narrow trail and then helped her get Clarence faced downward, as well. The mules were calm again. She stared back down the trail. Were they headed into a trap? Those other men who had come after them in the camp must still be around.
Her gaze traveled up the steep incline where the rockslide had started, but she saw no movement or any sign of people. She and Zane hurried down the trail and through flatter open country. Every now and then, she glanced over her shoulder, expecting to see men behind her. Nothing. And yet, Zane pushed on.
They rode for several more hours, slowing down as the mules fatigued.
Then, for no reason Heather could tell, Zane sat up straighter in the saddle. His hand brushed over the holster that held his pistol.
The action sent a new wave of terror through her. What was he sensing that she didn’t pick up on?
He spurred his mule, but the animal continued to plod along.
“They need to rest,” she said.
A strange popping sound shattered the silence. Zane’s mule’s front legs buckled. Heather’s heart filled with horror as the animal collapsed on the ground. The mule had been shot through the head.
* * *
“Dismount. You’re an easy target,” Zane shouted at her. He dragged his legs out from under the dead animal and pulled out his pistol. He needed to keep Heather safe, out of the gun battle that was about to take place.
Heather shook her head. She stayed mounted on a frightened Clarence, who stepped side to side jerking his head anxiously. Heather’s gaze was fixed on the dead mule. Shock must be setting in for her. He had to pull her from the paralysis before she became unable to make life-saving decisions or follow his orders.
“Get down then. Get off of there.” He turned in a half circle, watching the trees, using his skills to pick apart each section, probing for movement.
She slipped out of her saddle and pressed in close to him. “What’s going on?” Her voice trembled.
Zane surveyed the landscape. “The shooter is probably getting into position to line up another shot. That gives us a minute.” And a chance at escape. He glanced at Clarence, debating his options. They might be a target if they got back on him. But the mule would give them speed.
Another rifle shot penetrated the forest close to Clarence. The mule whinnied and took off at a gallop, crashing through the trees. At least he hadn’t been killed, but the shooter had taken out their best chance to get away fast.
Another shot shattered the air around them. The percussive noise beat against his eardrums and made his heart pound. The bullet stirred up the ground around Heather. She gasped and moved closer to him.
Zane grabbed Heather’s hand and pulled her toward the brush for cover. “Run,” he ordered her.
Though he saw nothing when he looked over his shoulder, he could detect the human noises behind them, heavy footfalls and the rustle of tree boughs being pushed out of the way. The shooter was on the move, coming after them.
He let go of her hand so they could both run faster. His feet pounded over the pine-needle-laden ground.
They ran for a long time without stopping. Heather kept up a steady pace. He had to hand it to her. Even after the bruising she’d suffered in the rockslide, the woman could run.
He lagged behind then slowed his pace to catch his breath. “I think we lost him.”
She stopped to listen, tilting her head. Then her gaze fell on him. “Who are these men?” Her eyes seemed to look right through him. “You know who they are, don’t you?”
A heaviness pressed on his shoulders and chest. How could he begin to explain? He narrowed his eyes at Heather. He barely knew her. What if they were after Heather for some reason? She was the one they’d tried to take captive.
Some distance away, a human voice yelped as though the man had run into something. Zane’s muscles tensed as he peered over his shoulder.
He saw Heather’s eyes grow wide with fear, and then she started sprinting down the trail, with Zane following on her heels. She jumped over a tree that had fallen across the path. Zane hurried to catch up with her.
He heard a noise to the side of him. Two muscular young men jumped out of the trees. One grabbed Zane’s hands before he could react. The other placed a hood over his head and pulled Zane’s pistol out of the holster. Zane twisted from side to side trying to get away.
The last noise he heard was Heather’s scream.
THREE
Stunned and afraid, Heather watched as the men dragged Zane deeper into the forest. She rushed to get back over the log, determined to free him.
A third man appeared from out of the trees and came charging toward her. She had no choice but to run the other way.
The horror of seeing Zane taken captive plagued her as she sprinted off the trail and into the forest. Running hard, she pushed through the tangle of trees. Despite her speed, her feet hit the ground with precision as she chose her steps over the varied terrain. Her pursuer stayed within yards of her but never gained on her. She looped back around to the trail where it would be easier to put some distance between herself and the man.
She bolted up the trail, running for at least twenty minutes before she looked over her shoulder and saw no one. The man had given up. She slowed to a jog. Now that she was safe, her only thought was to help Zane.
Aware that another pursuer might be lying in wait, she stumbled toward where she’d seen the young men drag Zane. There were at least three men, two that had taken Zane and one who had come after her. Even if one of them had been the shooter, what about the other men and boys they’d seen? Just how many people were after them? With each turn in the trail, she feared she’d be caught in another violent encounter.
But after wandering for what seemed like ages, she was less worried about a confrontation and more worried about never finding anyone at all. All the trees along the trail looked the same. If she could find the log that had fallen across the trail, she might be able to figure out where Zane had been taken. But she did not know these woods. Zane was the navigator.
A heaviness descended on her. Zane could be miles from here by now, or worse...he could be dead. Her stomach knotted at the thought. She wiped it from her mind. Giving in to fear would only make things harder.
She pushed off the tree and jogged out to the path. If she worked her way back to the clearing where Zane’s mule was shot, she might be able to retrace her steps to where Zane had been taken.
As she followed the trail, she fought against the images that threatened to make her shut down. Pictures of Zane shot and left for dead played through her mind.
She stumbled into the clearing where the dead mule still lay. Her stomach roiled at the sight, and she thought she might vomit. She whirled away, but not before she noticed that the saddlebags and Zane’s rifle had been taken.
Turning in a half circle, she wondered if she was being watched. Her own intense heartbeat drummed in her ears.
At least from here, she thought she could find her way back to the fallen log. The memory of fleeing after the shots were fired was blurred by trauma. All the same, she took off in the general direction she remembered going. She’d gone only a short distance when she heard a crashing noise to the side of her. Scrambling to find cover, she slipped behind a tree. Heather pressed her back against the rough bark as her heart thudded at breakneck pace.
She held her breath. The noise of someone moving toward her intensified. Her muscles tensed. The forest fell silent. She waited. Then she heard a familiar clomp clomp clomp.
Heather almost laughed as she raised her head. Clarence stood on the path. He jerked his head at her. The metal on his bridle jangled.
“Hello, old friend.” She rose to her feet. The saddlebags were askew, but still intact. She opened one and took out the little wooden box that contained her father’s ashes. She placed it in the inside pocket of her coat where it pressed against her stomach so she could feel that it was safe. She had been only a short time away from closing this chapter of her life. So much had changed so quickly. Tears welled up. Why had her father wanted her to come back to Montana anyway? She wiped her eyes.
Come on, Heather, pull it together.
Her eyes were drawn to a bloody gash on Clarence’s neck. The mule sidestepped when she placed her hand near the injury. She couldn’t discern the cause of the wound. It could be a bullet had grazed him, or maybe he’d scraped it on some brush. She straightened the saddlebags and placed her foot in the stirrup. Heather rode a short way when she saw smoke rising off in the distance. A camp.
She spurred Clarence to go faster.
Once they’d gotten close, she slipped off Clarence’s back. It could be another hunters’ camp doing some scouting or it could be where Zane was being held. Or the men who had been after them might be there without Zane. It could be a chance for help or she could be stepping into danger. Either way, she had to find out.
She let the reins fall to the ground, opting not to tie Clarence up. At least if she did not come back, the mule would be able to find his way back to civilization. And not coming back was a high probability.
She pressed her boots lightly on the crunchy snow, moving toward the rising smoke. Before she even arrived at the camp, she heard voices. Though she couldn’t discern the words, it was clear a heated discussion was taking place. She slowed her pace even more, choosing where she stepped carefully. The scent of wood smoke filled the air. The argument stopped and the voices fell silent.
Flashes of color and movement caught her attention. She sank to the ground to take in the scene. Though the trees obscured some of her view, she caught a glimpse of a young man pacing, the hue of his greasy light blue coat distinctive enough to separate him from the forest colors.
Her throat constricted with fear. She recognized him as one of the men who had taken Zane. And there was another boy there, too, though she couldn’t see him—she just heard the sound of his voice, mingled with the static of a radio transmitting.
The young man in the blue coat was clearly distressed, hunched, moving in an erratic pattern and slapping his forehead with his hands. She shifted her position, hoping to spot Zane.
Bluecoat tossed another log on the fire and stood close to it. At first, she thought the man had on red gloves, but then she saw that his hands were red from the cold. His tennis shoes probably didn’t do much to keep the autumn chill out either.
Bluecoat turned and spoke to a spot that was just outside of Heather’s field of vision. “What did he say?”
The other boy replied. “He doesn’t trust us to bring him in. He’s sending Mason and Long to come and get him. He’s mad we didn’t get the girl.”
Heather breathed a sigh of relief. They had to be talking about Zane. And from what they’d said, it sounded as if Zane was still alive. And even better, it looked like there were only two young men guarding him for now. The third one, the one who had chased her, must have taken off.
Bluecoat threw up his hands. “Oh, sure, and then they get all the credit. While we have to go back out on patrol.”
“You know what Willis says. You gotta earn it.” The second kid stepped closer to the fire. He was taller than Bluecoat, though just as ragged looking in a tattered brown parka and worn combat boots. At least he had some gloves. Heather guessed he might be eighteen or nineteen years old. “They’ll be down here in seven to ten minutes.”
Heather moved in a little closer. Her foot cracked a twig. Both boys stiffened, stepped away from the fire and glanced around nervously.
Though she was in an uncomfortable position, she tucked her arms close to her body and didn’t move. Her heart beat so loudly, she was afraid it would give her away. Her front foot strained to maintain balance.
Both boys skirted the camp, searching the area before returning to the fire.
Heather exhaled. She waited until they started talking again before she crept in a circle around their camp trying to find Zane. She hurried from tree to tree to remain hidden.
“How long before they get here?” Bluecoat stepped even closer to the fire.
“A few minutes. I told you that. They’re coming on the ATVs to haul him up,” said Browncoat.
Both young men had handguns in holsters fastened to their belts. She recognized Zane’s pistol on the second man. She edged a little clos
er, finally spotting Zane far from the fire. The pillowcase was still on his head. His hands were tied behind his back. He wasn’t slumped over, which she hoped meant that he was conscious.
She moved farther away from the center of the camp and then circled around to where Zane was. The rumble of the ATVs filled the air. Still some distance away, but she knew she didn’t have much time.
She scooted through the evergreens until she was lined up with the tree where Zane was tied. Each time she took a step forward, she waited until the conversation intensified to cover the sound of her movement.
Her eyes fixated on Zane’s hands where they were bound behind the narrow trunk of a lodgepole pine. Crouching, she positioned herself so most of her body was hidden behind Zane.
Zane must have sensed something was up because his head jerked. The action was enough to cause the conversation between the two men to trail off. She pressed her belly against the ground, shielding herself behind Zane.
She squeezed her eyes shut as the footsteps came toward them. Her heart pounded out a wild rhythm. The footsteps stopped several feet away. She assumed the guard was scanning the area, though she wasn’t bold enough to sit up and check. After a few moments he walked away, and then the conversation resumed.
She brushed her hand over Zane’s, hoping he would understand. He gave her a thumbs-up. She pulled her pocketknife from her jeans’ pocket and cut him free.
The roar of the ATVs pressed on her ears. More voices carried through the trees after the engines died. Two more men entered the camp. All the men were facing away from Zane. Now was their chance for escape.
* * *
Zane reached up and tore off the hood, taking no more than an instant to orient himself before he turned and slipped into the trees with Heather.
He breathed a prayer of thanks that Heather had been so smart and brave in breaking him free.
Adrenaline kicked into high gear as he jumped to his feet and sprinted alongside her. Behind him, shouting and protest rose up. Then a single wild gunshot echoed through the trees.