by K. N. Casper
“And they gave it to him?” Boyd asked, outraged.
“Shouldn’t have,” Wade agreed, “but apparently they did.”
“When exactly did Brad disappear?” Kayla asked. “Do they know how long he’s been gone?”
“Leona’s sure it was after midnight, says it couldn’t have been before eleven, because that’s when she went to bed, after watching the first hour of the Tonight Show. Insists she looked into Brad’s bedroom just before she turned in, like she always does, and he was asleep in his bunk bed. He has the lower one on account of his foot, so she was able to see him plainly, but when she went in to call him this morning he wasn’t there.”
“What time was that?” Ethan asked.
“Around eight. She lets them sleep in on Saturdays, since there’s no school.”
“How did he get out?”
“Looks like he climbed out the bedroom window. She found the screen loose.”
“And none of the other children saw or heard him leaving?” Kayla asked skeptically.
“Kids can sleep pretty sound.”
Kayla nodded, knowing how deeply Megan slept, especially when she was very tired.
“No idea where he might have gone?” Boyd asked.
“We’ve checked the usual places, his friends, the school, the church, but no one’s seen him. I thought maybe he came over here or went to the Broken Spoke to hide out. I stopped off and talked to Carter and Luella, but neither of them have seen him. I’ve issued an Amber alert, and my deputies are checking the closest truck stops, just in case he tried to hitch a ride someplace.”
The very thought was scary. An undersize nine-year-old boy with one foot, out on his own.
“Where would he go?” Kayla asked.
Megan looked up at her mother. “He told me once about his aunt who lives in Austin.”
“Do you know the aunt’s name?” the sheriff asked.
“Aunt Betty.”
“Did he mention her last name or where in Austin she lives?”
“Uh-uh. Only that she lives in a real big house, and they have nurses there.”
“A nursing home,” Kayla muttered.
Not a very promising lead. “I’ll have my people check it out. If you think of anything else that might help us find him, Megan, will you tell your mom so she can call me? Anything at all.”
She nodded.
“My guess is he’s headed for the Broken Spoke,” Ethan said.
“Seems a reasonable assumption,” Montgomery agreed. “Thing is, he’s about seven miles away by road, and he’d be easily enough spotted and picked up by anyone looking for him.”
“Unless he cuts cross-country,” Ethan countered.
Wade considered the idea. “It’s still a couple of miles, but—”
“About three miles as the crow flies,” Ethan said. “There are a lot of obstacles between here and there, and plenty of places to hide.”
“No way he can walk that far,” Kayla pointed out. “Not on that plastic foot. He does all right over short distances, but after a while he starts limping pretty badly.”
“As hot as it is today,” Ethan added, “he could get into real trouble if he’s out in the sun. Do we know if he’s wearing a hat or carrying water?”
The sheriff shook his head. “Probably neither. Best Leona can tell, he just put yesterday’s T-shirt and jeans back on and crawled out the window.”
Ethan muttered something unintelligible under his breath. “He doesn’t know the land, and there are all sorts of hazards out there, rocks and cactus, not to mention rattlesnakes, scorpions and fire ants.” He paced. “How about calling Gallagher and asking to borrow his helicopter to help in the search? You’d be able to cover the territory a lot faster.”
“Already thought of that,” the sheriff said. “It’s not here. His son, Ryan, flew the senator to Houston for some sort of medical tests. Not expected back for a couple of days.”
There’d been rumors for months that in addition to financial problems the old man was suffering from macular degeneration. Maybe the gossip was true. Ethan had no love for the man and wouldn’t shed too many tears over his financial woes, but he didn’t wish blindness on anyone.
He dug into his pocket for his truck keys. “I’ll help you look for the boy, Sheriff. I know the country around here better than anyone. After all, we used to own it.”
“I’ll help, too,” Kayla said.
“There’s no need—”
“A boy’s life is in danger,” she interrupted. “Of course there’s a need.”
“Can I go, too?” Megan begged. “My voice is better. I can call out for him.”
The sheriff smiled. “That’s very thoughtful—”
“No,” Kayla replied sharply, and saw her daughter pull back. She softened her tone. “I need you and Grandpa to do something here. Phone all the kids in your class and ask them if they’ve seen Brad or if they know where he might have gone. Find out if anyone knows anything about his aunt Betty, what her last name is, where she lives, or if there are any other people he talked about. Will you do that?”
“Okay,” Megan mumbled, pleased to have a role, but disappointed that she wouldn’t be going anywhere.
“Grab your cell phone and a hat,” Ethan told Kayla. “We’ll drive over to my place. You can take the Mule—”
“You’re going to ride a mule?” Megan asked in awe.
Ethan snorted. “The Kawasaki Mule.” He turned back to her mother. “You can follow the perimeter fence. I’ll explain where to check more closely. I’ll ride Cinco cross-country on the most likely route Brad would take, assuming he knows directions. It’s supposed to hit the century mark today. We’ll need to take plenty of water, both for us and for him. There aren’t any streams in his likely path, and all the windmills on the old spread are shut off. If he’s out there, we need to find him quick, before he gets heatstroke.”
Kayla’s hands shook as she retrieved the cell phone from her purse and clipped it to her waistband. She grabbed the straw hat she usually wore in the vineyard and put it on.
“Dad, call me if you find out anything.”
“I will, and I want you to call me every twenty minutes to let me know where you are. Don’t be reckless, sweetheart. We don’t need any more casualties.”
She kissed him on the cheek, then bent and gave Megan a big hug. “Thanks for helping with the phone calls, honey.”
“Will Brad be all right?” Megan asked, finally realizing how serious the situation was.
“We’re going to do everything we can to make sure he is.”
She just hoped they’d find him in time.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
KAYLA FOLLOWED ETHAN OVER to the Broken Spoke, where they found Luella in the kitchen filling water jugs at the sink. “The sheriff was here,” she said over her shoulder. “The boy’s run away.”
“We just saw Wade,” Ethan told her. He surveyed the collection of plastic gallon bottles. “What’s this?”
“You are going to look for him, aren’t you?”
He let out a soft chuckle and lightly draped an arm on her shoulder. “You know me too well. Where’s Carter?”
The sound of booted feet on the porch made Kayla turn. The ranch hand placed a pair of saddlebags on the porch rail and came to the screen door.
“Packed the usual stuff,” the older man said. “First aid kit, bandages, tools and food. It’s hot as blazes out there today. I hope that boy had enough sense to wear a cap and take water with him.”
“So do I,” Ethan said, “but if he did take anything to drink I’m sure it wasn’t enough.”
“I figure you’ll want to take Cinco. I’ll take Pronto.” He looked at Kayla with a dubious expression. “You going, too?”
She nodded, but before she had a chance to speak, Ethan said, “She’ll take the Mule.” He glanced at the plastic jugs Luella was filling from the tap. “How many—”
“Twenty,” she said, “but I have more out in the shed if we
need them. It’ll only take me a minute to—”
“Carter and I will take six apiece on horseback. Kayla can take the other eight in the mule. You’d better get more ready after we leave, though. Just in case.”
Luella nodded.
“How do you want to split up?” Carter asked.
“Let’s go into the office.” Ethan led the way through the dining room to the den off the living room and stepped up to an old map on the wall behind the desk. For the first time, Kayla saw the outline of the Broken Spoke ranch the way it had been and the old K-bar-C that had constituted KC Enterprises. The only spread larger was the Four Aces, which adjoined it on the southwest.
Ethan traced the road along the eastern edge of the former consortium property line. “This is the road the school bus takes every day. It’s the route Brad’s most familiar with. There’s a good chance he’ll try to follow it, but if he went on the road itself, the sheriff would have found him by now.”
“Unless he was picked up as a hitchhiker,” the ranch hand grumbled.
It was a possibility Kayla didn’t like to contemplate. Good people picked up hitchhikers, but so did others.
“If someone he knew gave him a lift, the sheriff would probably know by now, since there’s an Amber alert out for him. If it was a stranger...” He let the words trail off. “We’ll assume he wasn’t thumbing his way. He’s a smart kid, so he might be following the road he’s familiar with on the inside of the fence.”
Ethan ran his hand along a wide swath adjacent to the public road.
“There are several places along the route—” he pointed to specific locations “—where he could hole up and never be seen. Best way to check them out is on horseback.”
He turned to Kayla. “I’d like you to take this perimeter road.” He drew his finger along the western edge of the old property line. “Check out the culverts and wooden bridges over the streambeds. Here, here and here. They’ll probably be dry, since we haven’t had any rain in several weeks. Those are also the only places where he’ll find decent shade.”
He looked at his watch. Almost three o’clock. “By now I imagine he’s very thirsty. Unfortunately there’s no water along either of those trails.”
Kayla bit her lip.
Ethan tapped a spot on the southern edge of the map. “He probably entered the ranchland here. It’s less than a quarter mile from the Rayborns’ house. From there he could follow the long, roundabout perimeter roads or try to blaze a shortcut directly through the spread. Nasty terrain that way, but he’d have no way of knowing that.”
“You figure he’ll go for a straight shot?” Carter asked.
“He’s a boy on the run, with a mobility problem, and smart enough to opt for the most direct route to his target.”
Ethan made a broad sweep of the middle of the spread with his hand. “I’ll cover as much of this central corridor as I can and hope the kid decided to stay on trails.” He ran a fingernail along the dotted line that represented a dirt road. “I don’t know how far he would get with that foot of his. I just hope he didn’t venture too far off. Any questions?”
“What do we do if we find him?” Kayla asked.
“If he’s all right, call your dad so he can spread the word and bring him in. If he’s hurt or unconscious, dial 911. They’ll want you to stay on the line until help arrives, but ask them to contact your dad so he can reach us.”
She nodded.
“Okay, let’s go.”
* * *
KAYLA CONTINUED ALONG the dusty trail that paralleled the barbed-wire fence separating the Four Aces from the original Broken Spoke. It didn’t seem likely Brad would go this way, since it would be totally unfamiliar to him. On the other hand, that might add to its appeal.
The first place Ethan had indicated where Brad could take refuge from the broiling sun was a red rock overhang that faced north and was therefore always in shade. The boy wasn’t there, nor was there any indication anyone had been recently. This was still miles from the Rayborns’ house, however, so it wasn’t likely he’d have gotten this far. Kayla moved on.
Eight minutes later she arrived at the second location, a culvert formed by a dry streambed. The wood-plank bridge over it furnished good cover. She slowed the Mule and carefully negotiated the steep bank. No sign of Brad.
She was about to continue when her eye caught a glint under a pile of windblown tumbleweeds. She left the engine running and got off the Mule to investigate. Plastic bottles. Even without the weeds covering them they would have been invisible to anyone traveling on the plank bridge overhead and probably wouldn’t have been seen by a casual hiker, either.
She’d already glimpsed a familiar label. Roundup. On the edge of the collection was a spray applicator. There was no reason for any of this to be here, of course. No legitimate reason.
* * *
ETHAN MOVED as fast as the terrain allowed, setting Cinco at a loose trot when the land was flat and unobstructed, slowing to a near crawl when they reached rocky, uneven ground. Using a horse in the search had several advantages. It allowed him to cover terrain inaccessible by ground vehicle, even for the versatile Mule or a motorcycle. It also gave him better speed than if he were on foot. Not to mention the perspective of height.
So far the young gelding was doing beautifully, apparently enjoying the adventure of being out on the open prairie. Ethan would have to guard against overtaxing him in the heat.
He’d already checked out three possible rest areas. Nothing. He and Kayla had talked on the phone once, apprising each other of their positions. She hadn’t found anything, either.
Perhaps he was wrong in assuming Brad was headed for the Broken Spoke, but he didn’t think so. The boy came alive when he was at the ranch, working with “his” horse. The kid was smart, though his schoolwork until recently hadn’t shown it. Given the traumas he’d been through, it was a wonder he was functional at all. Ethan couldn’t imagine anyone, much less a father, abusing a child the way Brad’s father had abused him, or a mother standing by and letting it happen. There were bad people in the world. The amazing part was that they could produce good kids like Brad.
He thought about Kayla, about what she’d gone through with her husband. Daryl was another example of someone who wasn’t worthy of the precious gift he’d been given. A child. A daughter.
Ahead, Ethan spied a windmill. Several of its blades were twisted, a few missing. The sight filled him with a sense of shame. Failure. No one had been performing maintenance on the place—their place—since it had gone bust three years ago. Windmills, while environmentally friendly, were low-volume, high-maintenance items, which was why so many ranchers had replaced them with more efficient and dependable electric pumps where power was readily available.
Approaching it from high ground, Ethan could see the circular concrete tank was empty. Weeds had sprouted inside it from windblown seeds that had found a foothold in the dust that was filling it in. Over the years their roots would chip away at the concrete bottom, eventually fracturing it. The walls would split, making the structure useless, and eventually the site would become a ruin, an artifact of man’s vain attempt to control nature. In the end the land always won.
Dismissing these maudlin thoughts, Ethan rode around to the shady side of the tank. He was sweating and longed to stop for a few minutes’ respite from the broiling sun, but delay could be fatal if he didn’t find the boy soon. A drink from his canteen would have to suffice.
Then he saw it, stretched out along the base of the tank. A form. The body of a young boy.
* * *
KAYLA’S FIRST REACTION was outrage.
She counted the bottles. A dozen. Six of them empty, another six with unbroken seals. Did that mean the culprit was planning to come back and poison her vineyard again?
The sheriff wanted proof that a crime had been committed. Well, now he’d have his evidence. Clearly this cache was clandestine. There was no other reason for it to be here. The next question was wh
ere would this lead. Would it help discover who was out to destroy her?
She couldn’t dwell on this mystery now. That would have to wait. Once again she looked around for any indication Brad might be hiding here. He wasn’t, and she didn’t think he ever had been.
She climbed back onto the Mule. As she chugged out from under the old structure, she made careful note of where she was so she could pass the information to her father on her next call in. No real hurry. This stuff had been here for a while and didn’t pose an immediate threat.
Surely there was a code on the labels the sheriff could use to track down the buyer.
* * *
ETHAN QUICKLY DISMOUNTED and threw Cinco’s reins over a mesquite limb. The horse wasn’t likely to run off, but he didn’t want to take any chances.
He knelt at Brad’s side and pressed his fingers to his neck. The boy was breathing, and a prayer of thanksgiving rose to Ethan’s lips. He felt for a pulse. It seemed slow.
Ethan ran to Cinco, grabbed one of the water jugs and raced back. The boy’s complexion was red, his skin dry, lips parched. Ethan saw he’d removed his prosthetic foot. It lay on the ground beside him. He pulled up the jeans leg and looked at the stump. Raw and bloody.
He poured a good deal of the water over the boy’s shirt and face, then gently lifted his head and tried to give him some to drink. It just flowed down his cheeks.
Ethan grabbed the cell phone from his belt and hit the fast dial for Kayla’s phone. She answered on the second ring.
“I found him,” he said hurriedly. “At the tank in Turkey Draw. I’m calling 911 now, so this line will be tied up. Pass the word to your dad and the sheriff.”
“Is he all right?”
“He’s alive but unconscious. I’ll call you back as soon as I can.” He cut the connection and pressed 911.
“I’ve found Brad Estes,” he told the dispatcher and gave what information he could.
“Can we get a vehicle in there?”
“Not easily. Part of the dirt road that comes here from my place has been washed out, probably in that big storm we had last fall. There isn’t any other road access to this spot. Going around it won’t be easy. Lots of debris blocking the way and the cactus is hip-high. Best bet is coming in by chopper.”