He needed to check the barn.
Negotiating the maze of wood rail fence, Eric crossed corrals and circled loafing sheds until he reached the two-story barn. Flies buzzed in his ears. One landed on his forehead. He brushed it away, his hand coming back sticky with drying blood. At least the gush had slowed, but pain still throbbed through his skull.
Pushing the pain away, he wiped his hand on his jeans, climbed the fence and dropped into the corral closest to the barn.
There were few horses in the corrals, and most looked too young to work cattle. Three of the horses gathered around him, nickering and nudging with their noses. Others pawed the ground and chased one another, jockeying for the best positions in front of the feeders.
Strange…
The sun was already hovering just above the peaks to the west—well past dinner time—its feeble glow quickly being overtaken by the leading edge of storm clouds.
Sarah was adamant about her livestock being fed on time. She was never late. But judging by the horse’s behavior, they were expecting a meal.
Eric tried to keep his imagination from leaping ahead. Sarah would be okay. She had to be.
Dust rose into the air thick as fog and whirled in the wind. In front of the barn door, Eric caught a glimpse of black-and-white fur.
Sarah’s dog wouldn’t be far from his mistress. She had to be in the barn. But why wasn’t the dog inside with her?
Eric raced across the corral, horses swirling around him. He couldn’t afford to think too hard about what might have already happened to Sarah. He had to stay alert. He was used to testing himself against rock, snow and rough mountain terrain, not a living adversary. Certainly not armed lawmen. He needed to be ready.
Radar spun away from the door and stared at him, one ear pricked.
Eric froze. He knew the dog, but he hadn’t been around for months now. The last thing he needed was for Radar to start barking, tipping off whomever was inside.
Eric raised a hand. Tilting his palm downward, he lowered his hand, gesturing for the dog to lie down the way he’d seen Sarah do countless times.
Radar crouched to the ground. Still watching, he stayed silent.
Blowing a breath through tense lips, Eric scaled the final fence and crept to the barn. The center part of the structure rose to two stories. Each side only contained one, the roofs slanting over stall areas. He stepped to the center door.
The deep hum of a male voice came from inside. The sheriff. Had to be.
An inch of space gaped between the sliding door’s two halves. The barn was dark inside. If Eric stood directly in front of the door, or even peered in, he would block the light. His presence would be as obvious as if he’d rung a damn doorbell.
Eric stayed still and tried to hear over the thrum of his own pulse.
“What was your brother looking for?”
“I swear I don’t know.”
“Then why don’t I believe you?”
“He went climbing. That’s all he told me.”
A jumble of emotion spun through Eric’s mind and settled like an ache in his chest. He’d tried to drive Sarah’s strong contralto from his memory. He hadn’t succeeded. But hearing it again, under these circumstances… it was all he could do to keep from throwing the barn door open and rushing in to protect her.
In light of the way things had ended between them, she’d probably find that ironic.
“Who has your brother talked to since he was released?”
“I don’t know. He only got home last night. Did he do something? What is this about?”
“I’m not messing around here, Miss Trask. Eric Lander. You. Who else?”
“I want to talk to a lawyer. I have the right to see a lawyer.”
“Listen,” the sheriff said, his voice getting quiet, controlled in a way that made Eric’s pulse spike. “You have the right to tell me what I want to know, or I’ll have to assume you’re in this as deep as your brother.”
Eric stepped away from the door. He couldn’t stand here and listen any longer. He’d been slow to act to help Randy. Slow to figure out what kind of danger the two of them were in. Slow to believe the deputies were not there to uphold the law. He wasn’t going to make the same mistake again.
He needed a strategy. Some way to take control of the situation before the sheriff could hurt Sarah.
Think.
Eric knew the barn’s layout. Hell, he’d helped Sarah feed enough times in their few months together that he should be able to move around the ranch in the dark.
Think.
He pictured the inside of the barn in his mind’s eye. The place was small, only a half-dozen stalls, a wash stall and a good sized tack-and-feed room. Judging from the closeness of the sheriff’s voice, he and Sarah were in the main barn area, not closed off in the tack room. That meant Eric should be able to see them from one of the windows above.
As long as he could get up on the roof without giving himself away.
He circled to the flank of the barn, climbing over fences and dodging demanding horses. Reaching a spot where the roof slanted low, in back of the barn, he focused on the windows used to let natural light into the structure and shoved the tire iron in the back waistband of his jeans. The metal was cold against his skin. Bracing. Its chill sharpened his focus and resolve. He eyed the wood siding. Freshly painted a rich brown, it held few spots to get finger holds, let alone a spot for a toe.
Good thing Eric didn’t need much.
Fitting his hands into the ridges between the planks, He pushed the back of his hand against one side, his fingertips pressing into the other, then folding his thumb across his palm, he twisted his wrist, his hand wedged tight. Using the hand jam, he pulled himself up the siding, one hand after another, until he could grasp the edge of the roof. From there, he used a mantling move to get him over the small overhang and onto the shingles. And all that was left was scrambling up the shingles to the windows under the upper eaves as quietly as he could.
Eric tried the windows. Locked.
Holding his breath, he jimmied the pane up and down, praying the sheriff wouldn’t hear.
The lock popped open.
Eric slid the glass wide and listened for movement from inside the barn. Below in the corral, horses snorted and whinnied. A cloud of dust plumed on the crest of the hill. Another vehicle heading this way…another sheriff’s department SUV.
A wave of dizziness swept over him. Clamping down on the inside of his lower lip, he concentrated on opening the door without losing his balance. He couldn’t let himself think about all the things that could go wrong. If he wanted to get Sarah out of this mess, he had to focus.
Eric pushed his head through the open window and looked down into the barn aisle. The scent of wood shavings and manure stuck thick in his throat and tickled his nose.
“Horse accidents are funny things,” the sheriff’s voice boomed from below. “They can happen at any time. To anyone. Even people who work with horses every day.”
“Please… I can’t come up with answers I don’t have.”
Sarah’s voice sounded forceful, but there was a sharp tinge to it Eric knew came from fear. He leaned farther into the barn to get a better angle.
The sheriff stood almost directly below. He reached up to a peg holding a collection of old horseshoes. He grasped one and shook it up and down as if testing its heft. “Something unexpected can happen, spook the horse, and…”
Sarah pressed against the wall of the wash stall. She’d always been slender, all sinew and muscle developed by back-breaking ranch work. But the woman he was looking at was softer than he remembered. More vulnerable. Her hands were behind her back, and when she moved, Eric could see a set of handcuffs bound her to a metal rail.
“You think threats will make me know something I don’t?”
“No threat. I’m stating fact.” Sheriff Gillette slapped the steel shoe against his palm.
Eric didn’t know what he’d missed while climbing to the
loft, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to let this go any further. He pulled the tire iron from the back of his jeans.
The sheriff looked up. Spotting Eric, his eyes flared wide.
Then he reached for his gun.
CHAPTER THREE
SARAH LEANED BACK ON THE wash stall wall and lashed out with a foot. She connected with the sheriff’s ankle, the force shuddering through her boot and up her leg.
A shot exploded in her ears.
Something fell from the loft, landing on the sheriff, knocking him to the ground.
Not something. Someone. A body.
A body… oh, God… Eric.
Sarah couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe.
Before she could react, Eric was moving. He shoved a forearm under the sheriff’s jaw, slamming his head back.
The sheriff raised his gun.
Eric grabbed the sheriff’s hand and slammed it against the floor. Once. Twice. Another shot cracked through the barn. Then the gun skittered across the concrete.
Sarah lunged for it, the handcuffs jerking her short.
The sheriff bellowed. Fists swinging, he connected with Eric’s chin.
Eric staggered back, then retaliated, landing a right in the sheriff’s belly and a left to the side of his head.
The sheriff stepped back. Once. Twice. He went down on one knee, just a few feet from Sarah, close enough…
She kicked again, driving the steel toe of her boot into his shoulder, spinning him to the side.
The sheriff bellowed again and turned on her, his face red, fists swinging…
“Down on the floor! Down on the floor!” Eric shouted. He pointed the sheriff’s gun at the man’s own head. “Now! Now! Now!”
Hands in front of him, the sheriff lay prone on his belly.
“Sarah? Are you okay?”
Sarah focused on Eric. The whole thing had happened so fast, it took a moment to soak in. Eric was here, a gun in his hand, the side of his face covered with dried blood.
“You’re hurt.”
Eric shook his head. “It’s nothing. You? Are you okay?”
She managed to nod. Her legs wobbled.
Eric turned back to the sheriff. “The key for the handcuffs. Where is it?”
“You don’t want to do this, son.”
“You’re right. I want to just kill you and take the key off your dead body. Unless that’s what you want, too, you’d better give it to me. Slowly.”
Sheriff Gillette dipped a hand into his jacket pocket and tossed the key to the floor at Eric’s feet.
Eric unlocked one of Sarah’s wrists and handed her the keys. Once she freed herself, he motioned to the sheriff. She slipped the shackles around one fat wrist and then the other, securing his hands behind his back.
“What you’re doing here is against the law.”
“Oh, you mean like gunning down a man in cold blood? Or preparing to beat on a shackled woman with a damn horseshoe? Those kinds of against the law?”
Sarah couldn’t make sense of any of this. First the sheriff. Now Eric’s sudden appearance. He was supposed to be climbing with Randy. And the way Eric was talking…
Barking erupted outside.
The sheriff let out a chuckle. “Looks like my backup is here. Sure you don’t want to rethink this?”
“Eric?” Sarah said. “Where’s Randy?”
Another laugh from the sheriff. “Yeah, where is he, Lander? You might as well give yourself up right now. It’ll go easier on you.”
Eric grabbed Sarah’s upper arm and started for the barn’s back door. “Hurry.”
He pulled her toward the barn’s back door, and they slipped into the corral. Yearlings gathered around them, looking for dinner. Something raced around the side of the barn, a black-and-white streak.
“Radar.”
The dog headed straight for her. Flying through the air the last few feet, he bounced off her thigh with his front paws and started back the other way.
He was telling her something, that someone was here. “Radar.” The dog’s head snapped around at her serious tone. He bounded back to her side.
“We have to get out of here.” Eric said, pulling her through the gathering horses.
“What is happening? Where is—”
“We’ll talk later.”
Men’s voices rose from the front of the barn.
“Who’s here?”
“Deputies. And they aren’t here to help.”
“You’re not making sense.”
“No kidding. None of this makes sense. Are any of these horses broke to ride?”
Sarah scanned the group of yearlings, stopping on the only older mare in the bunch. “She is.”
“My truck is up by the rocks, but I don’t think we can get there. Not without being spotted.”
“Got it,” Sarah said, pushing all questions to the back of her mind. She led Eric to the mare, Radar following at their heels. Grabbing a handful of mane, she raised a foot, and Eric boosted her onto the mare’s back. He swung open the gate between corral and pasture.
“Hey there. Stop. Get off the horse.”
Sarah’s throat closed. At first she almost did as he said. Almost dismounted right there and gave herself up. He was a deputy, wasn’t he? She was no criminal. He had to be there to help, didn’t he?
Unlike the sheriff?
She didn’t have to think too hard to remember the threat in the sheriff’s eyes, the brutal tone in his voice, the way he lifted the horseshoe implying he’d use it on her.
“Sarah.” Eric held up an arm, about to swing his leg up.
Eric was no criminal, either. Sarah was more sure of that than anything. She grabbed his arm, and he vaulted into place behind her. She laid her heel into the mare’s side and urged her into a full bore gallop.
______
They’d raced all the way to the creek before Eric dared take a breath. The mare slowed as she approached the water, breaking to a jog before splashing into the shallow current. Sarah’s dog plunged in behind.
“Follow the river bed,” Eric said.
Sarah directed the horse upstream. Her dark hair whipped in the wind, lashing against his face. “You think they’ll track us?”
“Can’t be too careful.” He was still shaken from the moment he looked down the barrel of the sheriff’s gun, the split second before Sarah’s kick made the shot go wide. “You saved my life back there.”
“I have a feeling you might have saved mine, too.” She turned her head to the side, letting her words drift back to him more easily. From this angle he could see the sweep of her eyelashes and the curve of her cheek. “So when are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
“I don’t really know.”
“Where’s Randy?”
Eric swallowed into a dry throat. He didn’t have the words to tell her. And neither of them had the time. “We need to get moving. I’ll explain things once we put more distance behind us.”
“Where are we going?”
“Damn good question. Obviously we can’t call 911. Our best bet is to get ourselves across the county line. Out of Gillette’s jurisdiction.”
“There must be some kind of mistake. Right?”
“That’s what I’ve been telling myself.”
Her chest rose and fell in a deep breath. Finally she nodded. “So we head for the county line.”
The Big Horn Basin was a huge plain rimmed with mountains on all sides. County lines fell along mountain ranges and across open territory. He eyed the mountains to the west. “How long will it take if we go to the east?
“Maybe a couple of days by horse.”
That sounded about right. And with a storm hovering over the mountains bringing rain and maybe even snow, it would take longer if they chose to go to the west. “Any better ideas?”
“Layton would help.”
The thought of pulling someone else into this web Randy had tangled them in made Eric feel sick to his stomach. “I don’t know…”
“That’s not my worry.”
“What is?”
Eric tried to swallow, but his throat wouldn’t cooperate. He didn’t even have to close his eyes to see the way Randy jolted when he took the first bullet. No warning. No way out.
“Eric? I need to know what’s going on, and I need to know now.”
He shook his head. Not now. Not until he could look her straight in the eye. Not until she had time to let the tragic news sink in. Not until she had time to cry.
A sound tickled the horizon, rising over the splash and babble of the stream. Radar froze and pricked his ears.
“Stop the horse.”
“Whoa.” Sarah shifted back, her hips settling against Eric’s thighs. The mare stopped in the stream and lowered her head for a drink.
A growl vibrated low in Radar’s chest.
Eric strained to hear over the babbling water. It took a second for the sound to register, but once it did, he knew the danger was far from over and their escape far from assured. “Bloodhounds.”
Sarah tilted her head. “You’re sure?”
“Yeah. How the hell did they get them to the ranch so quickly?”
“What do we do?”
“Keep moving upstream, for one.”
Sarah clucked, and the mare lifted her head. She broke into a trot, water splashing around them.
Eric held on to Sarah, a hand on either side of her waist. He didn’t know much about scent-tracking dogs, but he’d heard they could do remarkable things. He was far from sure that a trot upstream would keep the animals from picking up their trail on the other side of the water. Not unless there was something else to draw their attention.
They continued for another mile, maybe two. The barking grew louder, clearer. One dog. Probably no more. The sound drew out into a half bark, half howl.
The animal had picked up a scent.
Sarah turned her head to the side. “Eric?”
Even though he couldn’t see her expression, he could feel the alarm in her muscles, hear it in her voice. Not that he didn’t have enough of his own. “We need to give the dog something else to track.”
Fugitive (A Rocky Mountain Thriller Book 2) Page 2