Dangerous Legacy

by Valerie Hansen

  Maggie’s “Always” was tender and softly spoken.

  Flint opened the front door and stopped. “It’s snowing. Do we need to do anything more for your animals?”

  “Not tonight. They have plenty of bedding to keep warm. In the morning we can add more if we need to.”

  “Okay. Keep that fire going.” Although he knew she would, he felt he needed to say something else in parting. He’d chosen to inspect the property simply to relieve the tension from being around her, yet he hated to actually let her out of his sight.

  Standing at the edge of the porch, he tucked the cuffs of his slacks into the tops of his boots and pondered the possible effects of the impending storm. It was early in the year for snow, so it probably wouldn’t be deep or last long. Still, any weather change called for sensible precautions.

  They had plenty of food and bottled water in the house. He knew because he’d checked. And the sheds outside held sacks of special animal preparations for omnivores as well as straight herbivores like the white-tailed deer.

  Flint stepped off the porch and rounded the corner of the house, already leaving tracks in the fluff of snow. There was not enough to crunch or squeak underfoot yet, so it muffled his steps.

  Movement ahead caught his attention. He squinted into the flurries. Drew his sidearm and rested his thumb on the safety. Someone was rifling through the cabinet where Maggie stored her vet supplies.

  He tiptoed closer. The thief froze in midmotion. So did Flint. The tableau seemed to last forever before the thief turned to look over his shoulder and spotted him.

  “Freeze,” Flint shouted, taking a shooter’s stance and wishing he was in full uniform. “Officer of the law.”

  Mumbled curses echoed. The man called out.

  Flint pressed his back to the biggest oak in Maggie’s yard and braced himself. If attacked, he intended to give as good as he got.

  The person near the medicine cabinet ducked and began to flee.

  “Stop or I’ll shoot!” Flint ordered at the top of his lungs, hoping the bluff would work because he wasn’t about to shoot anybody in the back.

  Snapping branches momentarily distracted him. He pivoted. Thought he heard an engine rev in the distance. There might still be time to at least track the thief or thieves, even if he wasn’t fast enough to catch up on foot.

  He raced for the porch and met Maggie face-to-face as she jerked open the door.

  Her eyes were wide. Filled with fright. She zeroed in on the gun in his hand. “What happened?”

  “Somebody was raiding your meds. Call the sheriff and tell him I’m in pursuit.”

  “You’re leaving us?”

  “Harlan will be out ASAP—this is no minor incident. If I don’t go now the snow will cover the tracks and we’ll lose our chance.”

  There was little doubt Maggie didn’t want him to go. But he had to. Not only was it his job to take care of crime in the wilderness, but this was the best opportunity they’d had to identify the person or persons who had been endangering her.

  Flint could tell when she shifted mind-sets to embrace his opinion, even before she spoke.

  “Okay. Go. I’ll lock the doors and call for help. Which way are you headed?”

  “East, from the sound of it. I think I heard a vehicle start after the guy ran.” He ducked to place a quick kiss on her flushed cheek. “Make that call.”

  * * *

  Snow kept falling. So did temperatures. It was almost an hour before Harlan pulled up in Maggie’s yard.

  She was so frantic she threw open the door and began to shout before he got all the way to the porch. “Where have you been? It’s pitch-dark out there and Flint’s all alone. You have to find him. Help him. I’d have gone, but Mark’s asleep and I couldn’t leave.”

  The portly sheriff stopped and shook himself like a damp dog before entering the house. “Now, now. Let’s take a minute to talk about this,” he drawled.

  “Talk is useless. Flint is out there chasing crooks, and he hasn’t called or anything. You need to organize a search party and go after him.”

  Shrugging out of his coat, he hung it on a chair and splayed his icy fingers in front of her fire. “Can’t send anybody out there even if I could spare ’em, and I can’t. We’ve got multiple wrecks on the roads thanks to this storm,” Harlan said. “I shook loose to check on you, but everybody else is tied up. Your game warden will have to look after himself. Besides, if I add more men to the confusion before it stops snowing, we’ll have a worse mess.”

  Maggie wanted desperately to argue her point but had no appropriate words. The older man was right.

  “Have you tried to call Flint?” the sheriff asked.

  She shook her head. “No. I was afraid, if he was sneaking up on somebody, the ringing of his cell would give him away.”

  “Well, maybe. It’s up to you. Course, if I was him I’d have my phone set on silent.”

  “That’s right!” She snatched up her own phone and punched his preset number. “It’s ringing.”

  Harlan was rubbing his hands together, looking pleased.

  “Hey,” she heard, followed by crackling that sounded like cellophane being crumpled.

  “Flint? Where are you?”

  “Halfway up Ni...ge,” he said.

  “You’re breaking up. Can you get to a higher place so the signal is stronger?”

  This time, his “No” was very clear. And hoarse.

  “Are you on your way back?” Maggie held her breath, waiting. The phone was silent.

  “Flint!” she shouted. “Talk to me.”

  “Trap,” he said, followed by what sounded like his teeth chattering.

  “They trapped you?” Maggie covered the speaker on her phone to tell the sheriff, “He’s trapped.”

  Moments later there was more static. Amid the background noise she heard, “Bear,” or thought she did, and held up her hand.

  “You’re in a bear trap?” Maggie could barely breathe, barely form the words. “Where?”

  This time she was sure she heard the word mile. Putting his previous attempts together, she guessed, “Nine Mile Ridge? Are you near where we used to go for picnics in the summer?”

  “Ye—s.”

  “All right. Stay put. Somebody will be there soon.” She looked to the sheriff. “I know where he is. You have to hurry. If I understood him right and he’s stepped in a real bear trap, his leg is broken for sure.”

  Harlan shook his head, his tone somber. “Can’t do it, girl. Much as I’d like to, I know I’d never make it, and all my other men are working accidents. What about Game and Fish? Want me to try to get ahold of them?”

  “Yes!” She was bouncing on her toes, barely able to stand in one place.

  As she listened to the sheriff speaking to Flint’s office, she watched him. His expression was not promising. Nor were his results. “They say they’ll kick some men loose in maybe an hour or so, but they’re as busy as my officers are because of the storm. Civilian rescues come first. I’m sorry.”

  “No. No, no, no,” Maggie insisted. “I’m not leaving Flint out there to freeze or bleed to death while we sit on our hands and wait.”

  She donned heavy socks, then boots, then the warmest jacket she owned layered with a sweater, scarf and knit hat. The cell phone went into her jeans pocket before she pulled on thick gloves.

  “You can’t go out there,” Harlan said firmly. “I’d rather give it a try than let you risk your life on a fool’s errand. You’ve got a child to think of.”

  “I am thinking of him.” Maggie was adamant. “I know every inch of these woods. It would take me longer to tell you where to look than it will for me to hike up there on my own. You stay here with Mark. I’ll phone you as soon as I find Flint.”

  “If you
find him.”

  “Oh, I’ll find him,” she said. “And bring him back with me, one way or another.”

  FIFTEEN

  Cold seeped into Flint’s bones and dulled more and more of the excruciating pain. He would have been able to free himself if he hadn’t fallen backward and ended up practically dangling from a steel cable by his ankle. Snow had masked the snare trap as well as the fallen limbs near it, and he was tangled so badly he’d been unable to extricate himself.

  Although he had managed to prop a shoulder against a tree stump to keep blood from rushing to his brain, he was only half sitting up. Originally, he’d spent his time trying to figure out how to free himself. Now he was past that, accepting of his fate to the point where he’d have been concerned if he hadn’t been so sleepy.

  The more soporific he grew, the more his mind drifted and came up with options he’d never have considered under normal circumstances. Shoot the thin steel wire? Shoot the tree it was anchored to? he wondered, before realizing how far from normal good sense he’d wandered. That helped snap him out of his stupor temporarily.

  Deciding to act on the yearning to once again hear Maggie’s voice, he reached for his phone—and found it buried in a drift beside him. Not only was the instrument wet now, but ice crystals had had time to form on the screen.

  Flint cradled the useless phone. “Ah, Maggie, I did try,” he whispered through cracking lips. “It was for you. All for you. I hope you know that.”

  Closing his eyes, he recalled his long-ago decision to leave Serenity. It wasn’t only her brothers’ aggression that had convinced him to go away. It was knowing that if they married and remained there, the way Maggie wanted, they’d be constantly bombarded by negative concepts. What chance would their marriage have had then?

  And now? Flint tried to draw a deep breath, but the icy air felt like needles in his throat and lungs. He’d done his best to protect her, to figure out who was threatening her. That was why he’d taken the chance of venturing out in the storm.

  He cast his eyes toward the gray sky and blinked against the falling snow. “Where are You, Lord?” he asked prayerfully. “I thought you’d sent me to help Maggie, so how come I’m stuck here freezing to death?”

  Even in his altered state of understanding, he realized he’d failed to be thankful for all he’d been given. He pictured his beautiful little boy, and tears froze on his lashes. “Take care of them,” Flint prayed. “Please, God. Thank You for the time I did have, for getting to meet Mark and see Maggie again. Forgive me for all my mistakes and let them know I did my best.”

  As he fell silent he heard a branch crack. Then another. Given the way sound traveled in the forest, the noises could have come from anywhere.

  His gun lay on his lap. It took both hands to pick it up and even then he wasn’t sure he could make his gloved fingers bend enough to pull the trigger if he had to defend himself.

  “Strength, Father. Please,” he said through chattering teeth. Then he waited.

  * * *

  Maggie had been wise enough to pick up a flashlight and a small blue tarp on her way out of the compound. She had no intention of spending the night in the woods, but it never hurt to be prepared, just in case.

  Following Flint’s tracks was impossible given the recent snowfall. If he hadn’t told her where to look for him, she wouldn’t have ventured out at all. The sheriff was right about it being foolhardy—unless a person had the advantages she possessed. Not only did she know the woods, probably better than just about anybody, but she remembered the place where she and Flint had often shared a picnic lunch. It wasn’t far. Going there would put her in the right vicinity. After that, she’d have to rely on intuition.

  No. On prayer, Maggie reminded herself. “A sinking-ship, leaking-lifeboat kind of prayer.” She almost smiled behind the scarf covering the lower half of her face. That might be a silly way of expressing it, but the concept was valid. Some of her most fervent prayers had come from situations she’d thought were impossible to overcome.

  “Father,” she said, steadily plodding ahead, “I’m sorry for being so testy with Flint. Please guide me? Help me to help him?”

  I have to find him, she added silently. I can’t leave him out here, alone and hurt.

  Topping a ridge, she removed one glove and pulled out her phone. No service. There should have been a strong signal, meaning the cell towers were probably coated with ice and snow already.

  She wanted to cry. To fall to her knees and sob. But she didn’t. She stuffed the phone back in her pocket, slipped her glove back on before her fingers got too cold and kept moving.

  As she hiked, her heart and mind kept calling out to her heavenly Father. And every time she felt a new surge of power and conviction she added, “Thank You, Jesus.”

  It was all that kept her going.

  * * *

  Flint’s vision blurred, his eyelids drooping repeatedly. He snapped them open for the umpteenth time. He must not sleep. Must not...

  Something popped and cracked nearby, jarring him back to more clarity. Was the cold affecting the trees or was he hearing something else? He tensed, hoping he’d be able to lift his handgun in case the noise came from an enemy rather than a rescuer or a natural source. Although he had no idea how much time had passed, he assumed there would be a team on his trail by now, perhaps even Wallace and Samson. At this point he didn’t care how much they teased him for stepping in a snare and getting jerked off his feet as long as they packed him out of this icebox.

  When he tried to move, he discovered that the back of his jacket had frozen to the side of the stump. Ripping it loose caused his ankle to twist farther and he was unable to stifle a groan.

  Silence ensued. Flint gritted his teeth, waiting for the throbbing in his foot and leg to subside.

  Something else drifted to him. Was he hallucinating? Had someone called his name? He was about to attribute the faint sound to wishful thinking when he heard it again.

  “Here! Over here!” He thought he was shouting, but his raspy cry was almost lost on the wind, soaked up by the snow blanket. He tried again. “Here!”

  No one answered.

  Flint waited as long as he could, then sagged back. His mind was surely playing tricks on him, which was one of the signs that his body was nearly through fighting. “Father, tell Maggie...” he began before complete defeat overtook him and his eyes closed.

  * * *

  Excited, relieved and so overcome she could hardly speak, Maggie fell to her knees beside Flint and heard him mumbling her name. “I’m here.”

  The green eyes opened and focused on her. “Ummm. Dreaming,” Flint murmured.

  “No, you’re not dreaming,” she assured him. “I’m really here. I found you.”

  “Thank G-God.”

  “I know. I already have. It’s amazing.” The more she talked to him, the more he seemed to rally. She’d lowered her scarf to speak and was shining the beam of the flashlight on her face so he could see her smile. “I’m so glad to see you. Why did you say you were caught in a bear trap?”

  “Lousy connection. I said snare.”

  “You have no idea what a relief that is. I figured you were out here about to loose a foot.”

  “Still might. Tangled. Get men. H-help me up.”

  “That could take a while,” Maggie said with an arch of her eyebrows under the rim of her knit hat. “There weren’t any others available when I talked to you on the phone. Every able-bodied soul is out rescuing civilians. Professionals are supposed to be able to take care of themselves.”

  “Call for help?” he managed.

  She could tell speaking was a struggle for him. “No cell service out here. I already tried. The towers must have iced over.”

  Backing off, she played the flashlight beam over him and assessed
his situation. “I think I can release you. Is your ankle broken?”

  “Not sure,” Flint said. He shook himself and slapped his own face with an icy glove. “Did you just say you came alone?”

  “It was me or nobody. The sheriff was barely able to make it from his car to the porch.”

  “What were you thinking?”

  “That I’d lose you if I didn’t do something,” she answered, glad to note anger in his tone because that would increase his circulation and actually help. “So I did something. I came after you.”

  “M-Mark?”

  “Is home in bed while Harlan keeps the fire going and probably eats me out of house and home.” Maggie tried another smile despite Flint’s evident ire.

  “H-how do you propose to get me there?”

  “Good question. I suppose we could make camp and wait out the storm, but you didn’t look so good when I first got here. I think I’d best figure out a way to get you to civilization.”

  “Leave me. Go back to our son. I don’t want him to lose us both.”

  “That’s the hypothermia talking.” Pulling out the small blue tarp, she unfolded it and laid it over him. “I’m going to try to pull this wire down first.” She put all her weight on the trap cable. Her icy gloves kept slipping. “Okay. Plan B. I’ll lift you up so you can help me.”

  “Lift me?” Flint tried to laugh and coughed instead.

  “Yes, lift you. I buck bales of hay by myself all the time.” She eyed the tangle of branches where he’d landed. “How did you get yourself into such a mess?”

  “Fell backward,” he rasped. “Upside down.”

  She started to break away the thinner limbs and cast them aside. “The trapper probably set his loop there because large game would naturally avoid the deadfalls. You did the same. Good thing that whoever you were chasing in the first place didn’t double back and find you like this.”

  “Yeah. If they had I’d really be a goner.” Flint had hunkered down beneath the tarp, only flinching when she bumped his leg. “Stupid.”

  “What? You, me or the tree snag?” Now that she’d located him, Maggie’s spirits were so high she had to morph her joy into silliness or lose control.