Jumper

by Michele Bossley

  “Grandpa!” I gave a small shriek.

  “Ooof,” Bellamy grunted, leaning forward and clutching his stomach. He straightened immediately, reached for Grandpa’s jacket and shoved him up against the truck. Grandpa tried to push back, but with the forms in one hand he couldn’t get Bellamy off. Bellamy had his hands around Grandpa’s throat.

  “The forms, Gus,” Bellamy said through gritted teeth. Grandpa’s face turned a deep brick red and he struggled for breath. Bellamy squeezed harder. I couldn’t stand it any longer.

  I sprinted out of the bushes and charged like a rampaging bull, leaping onto Bellamy’s back. “Let him go!” I said fiercely, pounding the man’s shoulders with one fist. Bellamy shrugged off the blows, hardly noticing them, still keeping his hands around Grandpa’s throat.

  I saw Grandpa’s eyes begin to roll back in his head, and in a fit of desperation I wound up and slapped Bellamy with an open palm as hard as I could over the hollow of his ear.

  He reacted then, whirling around to shake me off. My shoulder smacked into the bottom of the open truck door, sending a sharp spasm of pain down my arm. It was enough to loosen my hold, and I fell off into the dirt.

  But I had accomplished what I set out to do. Bellamy had let go of Grandpa when I hit him. Grandpa’s face lost that purplish look, and he drew great gulping breaths of air. I scrambled to my feet, ignoring the ache in my arm, and rushed to his side.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  He nodded grimly. He still had the forms in his fist and he thrust them at me. “Run,” he whispered. “I’ll take care of him.” He nodded toward Bellamy, who was shaking his head, as though to dispel the ringing in his ears, but was also advancing on us.

  I wasn’t too sure about leaving Grandpa, but he shoved me away as Bellamy lunged for the papers in my hand. He ripped them away from me just as Grandpa stuck out a foot, tripped Bellamy and sent him sprawling. “Run!” Grandpa bellowed at me, his fists bunched, ready for Bellamy’s next attack.

  I had no choice. I ran.

  I dove into the bushes, where Kayla was still huddled. “Come on!” she urged, grabbing my sleeve. She tugged me through the trees at a dead run.

  “We...need...to call...for help,”

  I gasped. “I know!” Kayla cried. “What do you think I’ve been doing in those bushes, knitting? My cell phone isn’t getting a signal. We need to get to higher ground.”

  I felt a surge of relief. I’d forgotten about Kayla’s cell phone. If Grandpa could just hold Bellamy off long enough for help to come...

  We dashed past the barn and corral, up a rocky incline.

  “Keep running!” Kayla panted.

  “Check the signal,” I said.

  She flipped the phone open as we climbed and shook her head. “Not yet.” My breath caught in my side and my arm throbbed, but I ran harder, pulling Kayla with me. My leg muscles burned in protest as we reached the crest. “Try again,” I wheezed, bending double, pressing my hand into the cramp under my ribs. If we didn’t get a signal here, I didn’t know what we’d do. This was the highest point on the ranch.

  Kayla hit the power button and was rewarded with a faint metallic beep. “Bingo!” she cried in triumph.

  “Call nine-one-one,” I said. “Get the police, tell them it’s an emergency, then meet me back at the barn.”

  Kayla was already dialing. She nodded and gave me a thumbs-up sign, then smacked the phone in frustration. “Darn it! It cut out!”

  “Try again!” I cried.

  I bounded back down the hill, taking care not to trip over rocks. Now that help was on the way for Grandpa, I had one thing I needed to do. I reached the corral a lot more quickly than I expected and searched for the gate that opened into the pasture. Bellamy’s ranch was big, and even though the land was fenced, it would take him a lot longer to load those horses if they weren’t in the corral.

  I spotted the gate at the far end and sprinted for it. It was chained, but fortunately not locked. As I wrestled with the chain, trying to undo the twisted knot it had been tied in, I saw Rosie among the other horses. She stood out, her bright chestnut coat a spot of red among the browns and grays. She came closer to the fence. I wouldn’t have expected her to come anywhere near me, but maybe she thought I had food, or maybe she anticipated escape. In any case, I got the chance to watch her for a moment, and I felt my heart contract.

  “Not today,” I told her in a whisper. “Whether you’re with me or running wild out there, I will not let him hurt you.” And I yanked the chain free.

  chapter fifteen

  The racket from the chain startled Rosie. I swung the gate wide. The big mare hesitated, and in that split second I saw something on her flank—a rough, C-shaped arch, an old brand of some kind. It was small, with a blurred smudge of letters underneath, and the hair had grown into it, making it almost invisible. I got behind her and flapped my arms at her. “Go on!” I shouted. “Get going!”

  She shied, then bolted through the open gate, running out into the meadow. The rest of the horses, their ears pricked, followed at a gallop. Within seconds the corral was empty.

  I sprinted back toward the barn, fear for Grandpa sending a burst of adrenaline through me. As I rounded the back of the building, I spotted an object on the ground. I bent to pick it up, panic rising in my throat. It was Kayla’s cell phone. I slipped it in my jacket pocket and listened hard, but there was no sound except for the gentle whickering of the horse Bellamy had led out earlier, still tethered to the fence.

  Where was Kayla? She had obviously been here. And where was Grandpa? I peeked around the corner of the barn, but there was no sign of anyone. Even Bellamy’s truck was gone.

  I sank to the ground, my mind spinning with possibilities. Had Grandpa and Kayla made a run for the truck? I didn’t think so. Grandpa wouldn’t leave me stranded unless he absolutely had to. And what about Bellamy? It wasn’t likely that he’d popped out for groceries, not in that big rig. So why would he take a huge truck, that would hold dozens of horses, if it wasn’t loaded?

  I just didn’t get it.

  A red pickup truck pulled up the long drive from the main road and parked near the house. I flattened myself against the barn wall, behind some hay bales and a stacked assortment of rusty old tools.

  A man got out, glanced around the yard, then strode up to the house. He was about thirty and had the ruddy look of someone who spent most of his time outdoors. There was no answer to the doorbell, so he ambled back after a moment, frowning. Then he sighed and reached inside the red pickup for a thermos cup. He leaned against the bumper of the truck and sipped the steaming liquid from the cup.

  I was trapped.

  I couldn’t move from my hiding spot with that guy there, couldn’t look for Grandpa or Kayla, even if I knew where to look. The minutes ticked past. The man looked at his watch. I struggled with the idea of making a run for it, but the heavy vibration of an engine interrupted my worried thoughts. I glanced up to see Bellamy’s truck toiling up the drive from the opposite end. Bellamy cut the engine of the semi just in front of the barn.

  The guy walked over from the pickup just as I heard the semi’s door slam.

  “Hey, Jim,” the man said, “ready to load ‘em up?”

  “Yeah,” Bellamy said gruffly. “Sorry I’m late. I had a problem with the truck. Had to take it down to the shed and grab a few tools.”

  The younger man looked interested. “What was wrong?”

  “Nothing,” Bellamy snapped. “Just a few bolts loose on the trailer. The door was rattling.”

  The younger man scratched his head. “That doesn’t sound like much of a problem,” he commented. He looked puzzled—and so was I. Why would Bellamy waste time fixing loose bolts when he obviously had more pressing things to deal with? If Grandpa and Kayla had gotten away with the forms, Bellamy would be trying to stop them, and if they hadn’t, then they should still be here. I tried to suppress a jolt of fear. Something was definitely wrong.

  Be
llamy ignored the man. “I’ll back the trailer up to the gate. The horses managed to get out of the corral, but if you saddle Hoser and take the dogs, you should be able to get them in pretty quick.”

  The younger man snorted. “You call your horse Hoser?”

  “Yeah, it’s from that old SCTV skit. And trust me, he is a hoser. Totally brainless. Once you help me load up, you can go.”

  “I thought you wanted me to start working some of your colts today,” the younger man said.

  “Not anymore,” Bellamy answered quickly. “I’ll still pay you for the day, though.”

  The younger man shrugged. “Okay. Whatever. Let’s get started.” I heard him go inside the barn. There was a scraping noise right above me as a saddle was lifted off the wall. I sank back, mentally ticking off all the clues.

  Grandpa and Kayla had disappeared. Bellamy was still going ahead with his plan to ship the horses.

  He had taken the truck and gone somewhere—maybe to the shed, as he claimed. But what was he doing there? Loose bolts shouldn’t be much of a problem—anyone with a wrench could take care of that. Why a special trip to the shed?

  And then the pieces came together.

  What if Bellamy had managed to lock Grandpa in the horse trailer? It would have been no big deal for Bellamy to force Kayla in there too.

  I didn’t think Bellamy would really hurt them. He could get serious jail time for that, and Bellamy was in this to make a fast buck. He just needed them out of the way long enough so he could carry out his plans. He probably drove them somewhere in the trailer, tied or locked them up, then came back to load the horses. It couldn’t be far away either, or else he wouldn’t have gotten back so fast.

  I peeked between the hay bales, my gaze landing on the log shed Bellamy had stopped at in the truck. It was at the end of the drive, nearly at the road, half visible through the bushes.

  The shed. It seemed too obvious. But, after all, there weren’t many other choices. And it did make sense—Bellamy didn’t really need to take the truck all the way down there to tighten a few bolts with a wrench. That was just a flimsy excuse to avoid having the hired guy ask too many questions.

  By the time Grandpa and Kayla managed to get free—if they could—it would be too late. I swallowed hard at that thought. Bellamy would have his money and it would be our word against his that it had been the wild mustangs that were slaughtered.

  I shuddered and clasped my hands tightly to stop them from shaking. Bellamy backed the truck up to the corral gate, and the younger man stepped out from the barn and saddled Hoser. I crouched even lower to the ground as he swung up into the saddle. Bellamy whistled for the dogs, which set off with the younger guy and the horse right away. Bellamy busied himself setting up the ramp into the trailer, then walked into the corral, out of my line of sight.

  My stomach was so knotted with worry that I felt sick. What if Grandpa had a heart attack or something? I couldn’t just sit here. I needed to investigate that shed. Bellamy was on the other side of the barn. I’d never have a better chance.

  I took off running, dodging as silently as possible behind the bushes and bracken that edged the drive. Once I was hidden, I stopped running, creeping instead. I knew that every branch and twig snapped like a gunshot, and if I moved fast the swaying of the bushes would be a dead giveaway that someone— me!—was there.

  My heart gave great leaping thuds and I gasped for breath as hard as if I’d run a mile uphill. Calm down, I told myself. Bellamy hasn’t seen you. But I knew he would be watching for me.

  The log shed was about five hundred meters away, but when you go that distance on your hands and knees, it seems a lot longer. When I finally gave a careful glance around and emerged from the bushes, I felt like I’d been crawling through them for more than an hour. Lucky for me, the door to the shed was on the opposite side from the barn, so neither Bellamy nor the other guy could see me from the barn.

  “Grandpa?” My voice was hoarse. I put my mouth right up next to the door. “Kayla? Are you in there?”

  chapter sixteen

  The shed was silent and I felt my heart sink.

  Then I heard a soft shuffling noise. Grandpa’s whisper was only a croak. “Reese?”

  “Grandpa!” I stifled the urge to shout with joy. “Are you and Kayla all right?”

  “Well, I’ve had better days,” Grandpa said. “And Kayla’s pretty shook up. But we’re okay.”

  “Can you get us out, Reese?” Kayla’s voice sounded thin and scared.

  I looked at the door. It was bolted with a heavy cast-iron latch, and there was a padlock threaded through the casings. “It’s locked,” I said.

  “Can you break it?” Grandpa asked.

  “Not without tools. A saw or something,” I answered. “If I had a screwdriver, I could take it apart.”

  “There are a lot of screwdrivers in here,” Grandpa said. “But that doesn’t help.”

  “I’ll look and see if I can find something.” I searched around the perimeter of the building, but there was nothing except a rusty rake leaning against the woodpile, and an old tire.

  “I’ll have to go back up to the barn,” I said through the door.

  “You can’t!” Kayla sounded panicky. “Bellamy will catch you for sure.”

  “Well, what am I supposed to do?” I demanded. “This door is solid wood. I can’t break it down.”

  “Karate-chop it,” suggested Kayla.

  “I’d break my wrist,” I said, but Kayla had given me an idea.

  Chop it. I looked over at the woodpile. I hadn’t really searched in there, but where there is split firewood, there should be an axe. I investigated, and, sure enough, an axe—rusty and weathered, but still sharp—was buried in a thick stump.

  I wrenched it free with a few wiggles and a mighty tug. “Stand back,” I said. I swung the axe as hard as I could at the door. It bit into the wood with a jarring thunk and stuck there.

  “Well, that didn’t work,” I muttered. The heavy door remained fully intact, without even a crack. I yanked at the axe, but it wouldn’t budge. I had to work it loose bit by bit.

  “Try chopping at the wood around the latch,” Grandpa said from behind the door. “Maybe you can knock one side loose.”

  I heaved the axe up and let it fall. The axe glanced off the metal with a ringing clang. I hoped the horses were making enough noise that Bellamy wouldn’t notice the racket I was making.

  “Try again. Aim for the wood just above the casing,” Grandpa said.

  I did. I tried, but I finally stopped, my arms aching. Only a few slivers had flaked off the door. “It’s no use,” I panted. “I can’t do it.”

  I peered around the corner of the shed. I could see Bellamy beginning to load the horses. The younger man helping him had tethered Hoser and was ushering Rosie up the ramp. They must have managed to recapture all the horses.

  “Grandpa, are you guys okay in there?” I asked, sliding back to the shed’s door.

  “It’s not exactly a four-star hotel, but we’re fine. Why?” Grandpa said.

  “Bellamy’s loading the horses and he’s got Rosie.” I steadied my voice. “I’ve got to find a way to stall him until the police come.”

  “I don’t know if the police are coming!” Kayla cried. “The signal kept cutting out when I was talking. And then I lost the phone when Bellamy grabbed me.”

  “It’s okay. I found it,” I said. “I’ll keep trying to get a signal. But I can’t let Bellamy just drive away with the horses.”

  “Don’t, Reese. Please. Bellamy really means business. He’s not going to let you get in his way.” Grandpa sounded worried.

  “I won’t. I’ll just let the air out of his tires or something. I’ll be right back.” I dove into the bushes and began to weave through the bracken in a crouching run. I slowed down as I approached the barn. I wasn’t as worried about being seen—Bellamy had his hands full with loading up the wild mustangs. They were scared and fighting. Rosie gave a shrill wh
inny as the younger cowboy prodded her with a long stick. Bellamy cracked a whip behind her and she bolted forward, right up the ramp into the trailer. I couldn’t get near the truck tires without being spotted.

  “Hey-yup!” Bellamy shouted, cracking the whip again. The younger man guided the last of the horses through the gate and into the trailer, then shut the trailer doors with a clang and dropped the latch in place.

  “That takes care of it, boss,” he said.

  “Good.” Bellamy took off his hat and wiped his forehead. “You can take off now. I’ll drive them straight in.”

  “Okay. Give me a call when you want to start breaking the colts.” The younger man strode to his pickup and got in. The engine roared to life. He let in the clutch and bumped carefully over the rutted drive, around the pasture and out to the main road.

  I realized with sick certainty that I’d missed my chance. I could hardly have vandalized the truck with the two men standing there, but the younger cowboy might have helped me stop Bellamy if he knew my story. Now I was alone.

  Bellamy opened the door to the semi’s cab, ignoring the squeals and thuds that were coming from the trailer. He turned the ignition and carefully pulled the semi forward, the trailer rocking and heaving on the uneven road.

  The horses inside were terrified. The sharp bang of hooves on metal made me catch my breath. Bellamy’s horse, still tethered to a fencepost, yanked at his bridle and whinnied in reply. As the truck wound its way down the U-shaped drive, I looked over at Bellamy’s horse. I had an idea.

  The semi had driven into a copse of trees, so I snuck out of my hiding place. “Hi, Hoser, old boy,” I said in a wheedling voice, approaching the horse. “Nice, Hoser.” He laid back his ears—never a good sign. “It’s all right, Hoser. Nobody’s going to hurt you. I just want to take you for a little ride. Won’t that be fun?”

  I kept talking to him as I reached into my pocket and pulled out a limp carrot. It had been in there since yesterday, when I was going to have my riding lesson, but I figured Hoser wouldn’t know the difference. His ears came up and I let him smell the carrot. Come on, come on, I thought impatiently. As slow as he was going, Bellamy was getting farther and farther down the road. I didn’t have much time.