Big Sky Showdown

by Sharon Dunn

  She took the pouch and headed toward the thicker part of the forest. Zane pulled the pistol out of his waistband and disappeared into the grove of trees. She worried that they weren’t far enough away and that a gunshot would alert the men to their position, but she reminded herself that Zane knew what he was doing. She needed to do her part and not question his choices.

  She walked a short distance until she found a small open area in the thick of the trees. She couldn’t see anything through the brush, so she kept her ears tuned to the sounds around her while she knelt after gathering twigs and several logs.

  She opened Zane’s waterproof container, which held the fire starter. She felt paper beneath the container. Zane had inadvertently given her two photographs that he must always keep in his inside pocket. One was of a much younger Zane with another boy who was maybe twelve years old. They were sitting in front of a Christmas tree. She stared at the photo for a long moment before she figured out the younger boy must be Jordan.

  She examined the second photograph, Zane with an older man. The older man had his arm around Zane as they stood outside by an evergreen, both of them holding rifles. She had never seen a picture of her father and her memories of him were still vague, blurry. But the resemblance was impossible to ignore. The eyes that looked back at her were her eyes. The photos were undamaged from when they’d fallen in the river.

  A faint gunshot somewhere in the distance brought her back to the present moment. She stuffed the photos into the waterproof container and set to building a fire. She dug through the pouch for the dryer lint. Flames consumed the lint and then the twigs. She placed her hands close to the heat and then gathered some sticks that were close by.

  She heard a rustling in the trees and looked up to see Zane holding a dead rabbit. “Dinner.”

  Her stomach growled. She would have turned her nose up at wild rabbit in the past, but now she would eat anything and be grateful.

  Zane skinned the animal with a pocketknife he must have snatched from somewhere since his bigger knife had been taken.

  Finding the two photographs helped her see him in a different light. They were pictures of the two people who meant the most to him. It was very telling that he seemed to carry them with him everywhere he went.

  “Something on your mind?” Zane caught her staring.

  “No, nothing.” She looked away as heat rose up on her cheeks. She remembered what Zane said about not letting the fire get too big and only placed another log on in when it threatened to die down.

  She glanced back up at him. A faint smile graced his face. When she had first met him, she’d thought he was some kind of wild man with his long hair and beard. She had only assumed that her father was the same way if they got along so well. Zane was way more complicated than that. Did that mean that her father had been too?

  “I was just thinking about my...my dad.”

  He stuck the rabbit on a sharp stick he’d fashioned and placed it close to the fire. “Your dad?”

  It felt strange to even call him that. “Tell me something about him that would surprise me.”

  Zane rotated the stick. “He liked poetry.”

  “Poetry?”

  “Not moon, spoon, June stuff either. Sometimes in the evening he’d read out loud around the fire while we settled down. He always started off with a psalm. They were his favorite, but he liked Robert Frost, too.”

  She’d read Robert Frost as a teenager. “That does surprise me.” But it was a good surprise. Well, mostly good. The news made her feel closer to the father she barely remembered but sad at the same time for all that she had missed. “My mother said he used to steal the grocery money so he could spend it on liquor.”

  “That is not the man I knew. I wish you could believe that.”

  “It’s just hard to let go of all the ugly things my mother said about him, the stories she told that made me hate him.”

  She didn’t think her mother had been lying. Stephan had been a drinker. It had probably been the smart, safe choice for them to leave him. But after they’d gone...was there a chance he really had changed? She was starting to believe that maybe such a transformation was possible. If Zane could have changed so dramatically just by being under Stephan’s influence, maybe her father could have changed, too. Jordan represented what Zane would have become if he hadn’t gotten away from Willis.

  Confusion whirled through her like a hurricane. She hadn’t had much time to think about her father since Willis’s men had come after them.

  Zane lifted the now blackened rabbit from the fire. “I think this is about ready to serve.” He laid it on a flat stone he’d brought with him. “My hand still isn’t working real well. Would you carve?” He handed her the pocketknife. “I’ll hold it in place.”

  She flicked open the knife and cut into the meat. She drew her hand back when she touched the smoldering flesh.

  “Careful, it’s kind of hot,” Zane said.

  “I got that. That’s what fire does. I just wasn’t thinking.” Her own stupidity made her shake her head. She offered Zane a quick glance. Amusement danced in his eyes, too.

  “We all have our space cadet moments,” he said.

  The sparkle in his eyes. The warmth of his voice. The way she felt close to him. She could get used to those things about Zane.

  She cut off a chunk of meat. The two of them ate in silence. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was until the first bite of food made her mouth water and her empty stomach cry out. The meat was stringy and charred but it was better than any lobster she had had off the pier.

  After they both had eaten all the meat she’d cut away, Zane pointed to the carcass. “There’s still meat on the bones if you want more.”

  She patted her stomach. “I think I’m full.” She warmed her hands over the tiny fire.

  Zane finished the rest of the meat and tossed the bones. He stared at the sky. “We better get going.”

  They put out the fire and stepped out into the open. The sun was low in the sky as they headed up the steep incline.

  How long would it be before Willis and his men figured they’d given up on getting out by way of the river?

  “How many men and boys are with Willis?” Heather asked.

  “The number is hard to figure out. When I was with him, there were a number of people who lived in town who helped him and sympathized with his crazy beliefs, and then there were the true believers who stayed with him in the wild.”

  “How many of those were there?”

  Zane stopped walking, tilted his head toward the sky, probably to mentally count. “Maybe thirty men and boys back then. I doubt the number has changed much. He always finds his share of new boys, but not everyone sticks around. Some—like me—leave by choice. Others get arrested for a variety of crimes, or recognized as runaways and brought to the authorities.”

  Her chest squeezed tight. They’d seen at least twenty men and boys. “Are they scattered all over the high country?”

  “Willis liked to have several camps. He figured that made us stronger. If the law came down on one camp, he wouldn’t lose all his men at once.” He walked for several more steps. “I doubt he has changed his strategy.”

  They pushed on through the night until darkness descended, slowing their progress.

  Zane pressed close to Heather. “I know it’s hard to see, but I think we should keep going.”

  She picked up on the urgency in his voice. “Did Willis always camp in the same place?”

  “He moved around, but he had some favorite hideouts.”

  She wondered if they were close to one of those hideouts but was afraid to ask. Her heart was already beating fast enough and every cell in her body was on high alert. If she had learned anything in the last two days of running, it was that she should never let her guard down.

>   They walked in silence with the stars twinkling above them. Her own breathing and the pounding of their footsteps created a strange harmony. They separated slightly, but she could still tell where he was by the sound of his boots padding across the hard earth.

  Her foot gave way beneath her. She stumbled then fell, rolling several feet. Darkness surrounded her.

  “Zane?” Her heartbeat drummed past her ears. Every second he didn’t answer, panic embedded deeper into her. “Zane?”

  Clouds rolled by above her and she reached out to climb up the incline she’d tumbled down.

  She heard a voice above her.

  “There you are,” Zane said. The voice drifted down to her, though she couldn’t even make out his silhouette.

  She let out a heavy breath. His voice was a comfort in the darkness.

  “It’s just so dark. I lost you in an instant,” he said. “Are you hurt?”

  “I don’t think so. I didn’t fall that far.” She was beginning to wonder how prudent it was to travel by night without any light. “If you could give me your hand?”

  No response.

  “Zane?”

  She scrambled up the rocky incline, feeling for solid ground. Instinct told her not to cry out again. She’d probably given away their position by crying out in the first place.

  Instead, she crouched and listened. It took a few minutes for her to parse through the sounds that were just a part of the forest to hear something that might have been a grunt and one man punching another.

  She crawled closer, waiting and listening, while her heart pummeled her rib cage.

  This time the sound of flesh hitting flesh was more distinct. Still on all fours, she made her way toward the sound. Her knee jammed against some rocks, causing several to roll. She froze, fearing the noise had given her away.

  Light flashed in her peripheral vision. Before she could turn toward the light source, clawlike hands dug into her shoulders, flipped her around and landed a blow to her jaw. Pain radiated through her whole face and down her neck. Her eyes watered.

  She rolled onto her belly and struggled to get to her feet. In the darkness, hands grabbed at the hem of her coat. She thrashed, seeking to get away from her invisible assailant even as he grabbed her arm. She punched the air, hoping to hit something. Finally her hand connected with flesh. A voice grunted in protest and the grip on her arm loosened.

  She turned and ran, stumbling over the rocks and veering away from where she’d fallen. Getting an idea, she slowed her steps. Maybe she could cause her pursuer to fall in the same way she had.

  She kicked some rocks, making noise on purpose. Light flashed again. She saw the silhouette of a man just as he took a step toward her.

  Her heart pounded. Adrenaline coursed through her body. She planted her feet, waiting, listening to the rapidly approaching footsteps. When it sounded like the man was close enough to grab her, she slid to one side as quietly as possible.

  Rocks crashed against each other. The man screamed. She moved to get away from the incline, but she’d waited too long. A hand reached up and grabbed her ankle, pulling her down. She twisted around and landed on her butt. The impact sent vibrations of pain up her spine.

  She kicked with the leg that was still free but only connected with air. The man pulled her down even more. She flipped over on her stomach, clawing at the rocky surface to get leverage.

  A light blazed off to the side. This time it remained on and another man approached her. His foot pressed on her hand.

  She wasn’t about to cry out in pain.

  “Let’s quit this dog and pony show.” The voice was Jordan’s. He shouted down at the other assailant. “Get up. We’ve wasted too much time.” Jordan pulled Heather to her feet and yanked her hands behind her.

  The venom she heard in his voice sent shivers down her back.

  Jordan shouted at the man who had fallen down the incline. “Crawl up out of there and let’s get moving.” Jordan pressed Heather’s hands together and wrapped rope around them.

  He pushed on Heather’s back. “March, double time.”

  He switched on his flashlight and used it to point. “That way.” He held his gun up so she could see it. “Trot and don’t try anything.”

  As she took a step, Heather tried to calm herself with a deep breath. Was he marching her into the woods to shoot her or was she still useful?

  “Did you catch Zane, too?” She purged her voice of the fear that had invaded every cell of her body. Was this the end for her?

  Jordan didn’t say anything.

  Heather stopped and turned sideways.

  He lifted his gun. “Keep going. Toward those trees.”

  His voice gave nothing away.

  If this was the end for her, she had to let Jordan know how much Zane cared about his brother. “He keeps a picture of you two together when you were kids.”

  Jordan’s hand clamped on her shoulder, and he spun her around. His face was close enough to hers that she could see the whites of his eyes even though he held the flashlight at an angle. “I know what you are trying to do. You’re lying to me so you can try to break me.”

  She held his gaze despite the terror that raged through her for her own life. “No, Jordan, that’s not what I am trying to do. I’m telling you the truth.”

  An emotion flickered across his face, and then the curtains seemed to come down over his eyes again, giving them that glazed look of the brainwashed. “My brother left me.”

  “He left Willis, not you.”

  That little moment of vulnerability she’d witnessed gave her hope. Maybe she wouldn’t live to see it, but Zane might get his brother back.

  Jordan’s features hardened. Whatever door had been opened had slammed shut. “Turn around and march toward those trees. I can’t believe how much time we’ve wasted.”

  That was the second mention of wasted time. Whatever it was they had planned, it must have become more urgent.

  Heather made her way toward the trees wondering if she had only minutes to live.

  ELEVEN

  Zane’s head hurt where he’d been hit with the butt of a gun and his hand ached from the gunshot wound. He’d fought hard against the three other men who ambushed him. But in the end, he’d lost. One of the men continued to hold a gun on Zane, even though Zane’s hands were bound.

  Zane had no idea what had happened to Heather. They’d gotten separated in the fight and darkness.

  The second man watched from a distance, a sneer on his face. All of the men were older, better equipped and better trained than the teenagers and young men he and Heather had first encountered.

  Static sounded on the second man’s radio. He pressed a button and turned away, talking in low tones. All Zane could pick up on was a lot of “yes sir, no sir” remarks.

  When he got off the radio, he signaled for the third man who Zane recognized as John, the man he’d stolen the ATV from. They put their heads together, and then the John picked something off the ground and stalked toward Zane. Once he was close enough, Zane could see that the man held a hood.

  He wasn’t leaving without a fight. Zane put his head down and charged toward John, who held the hood, knocking him down. The man with the gun grabbed him from behind and hit him once again in the head. Zane buckled to his knees as black dots filled his vision.

  The man with the gun leaned over and picked up the hood, placing it over Zane’s throbbing head.

  “You just never quit fighting, do you?” said the man with the gun. “You don’t need to see where you’re going, pal.”

  He was led some distance through the trees. He had no idea where they were headed other than they were pointed north. The wind gusted around him. He felt a tap on his shoulder.

  “Get on the ATV,” said John.

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nbsp; Zane estimated that they traveled over steadily rising terrain for at least twenty minutes before they stopped, and his captors commanded him to dismount. He was led along another path. He smelled a dampness that indicated they were near a cave.

  A hand was placed on top of his head, and he ducked down. He was commanded to sit, and he obeyed. Fading footsteps indicated someone had left the area, but he sensed that someone else was still in the cave with him.

  The warmth from a fire covered his face and chest. He sat on a thick animal fur. He heard the grunting of someone repositioning himself. The fire crackled.

  Zane had a pretty good idea who was in the room with him. Willis liked to play psychological games. The silence was meant to intimidate him. As a young man, he might have fallen victim to the games and tricks Willis used, but no more. He could wait out the master manipulator if need be.

  With the hood still on his head, Zane closed his eyes and prayed. More than anything, he hoped that Heather was okay.

  Willis was the first to break the silence. “Been a long time, Zane.”

  Zane did not respond. He just kept praying.

  “Pull his hood off,” Willis barked.

  A hand grabbed the hood and yanked. The guard stepped back and pressed against the cave wall, still holding the hood. It took a moment for Zane’s eyes to adjust to the dim light. He spotted another guard at the entrance of the cave.

  His eyes traveled around, assessing the possibility for escape. He let his eyes wander for a long time, knowing the man wouldn’t appreciate being ignored. If he could get the man to lose his temper, he might slip and release some information that Zane could use. But finally his eyes turned to his old mentor.

  Willis had white hair in a buzz cut. His clean-shaven face revealed high cheekbones. Though his skin was leathery from time spent outdoors, his slim physique made him appear much younger than his fifty or so years. As always, he was in top athletic shape.