The Maverick of Copper Creek

by R. C. Ryan

  In that instant Sammy wriggled free and began running around and around the man’s feet, yapping frantically.

  “No, Sam…”

  Her words were cut off at the sudden, loud report of a rifle shot as Noah fired at close range. The puppy’s yelp died in its throat, as the little dog dropped to the ground in a heap.

  “Sammy. Oh, Sammy…” She sat up, but before she could rush to him, the rifle slashed out, knocking her backward.

  “That’s better.” Enraged, Noah stepped over the puppy’s lifeless body and slammed the passenger door before circling around and climbing into the driver’s side.

  He withdrew some rope from his pocket and tied Brenna’s hands and ankles so tightly she cried out in pain.

  “Aw. Did I hurt you?” He gave a strange, high-pitched laugh at his little joke before his voice turned into a snarl of rage. “If you say a word, I’ll tape your mouth. You hear?”

  She nodded, while tears ran silently down her cheeks.

  He put the truck in gear, and took off with the tires spewing gravel.

  Brenna stared out the side window, cursing the tears that blurred her vision. But what she could see of Sammy was nothing more than a tiny bundle of yellow fluff lying still and lifeless on the ground.

  And then the truck was racing toward the highway, leaving behind a cloud of dust.

  As her ranch receded from view, she thought of Ash, herding her cattle to the highlands, expecting to find Noah there to tend them.

  By the time he returned, she could be hundreds of miles from here. Even if he found her bracelet, there was no way of letting him know what had happened, or where this madman was taking her.

  Though she struggled through a mist of pain and sorrow, her mind, her body betrayed her. The blow to the head had left her brain fuzzy and her vision blurred.

  The young woman who had always prided herself on being able to take care of herself and resolve any situation, no matter how impossible it may have seemed, was now reduced to an odd, numbing silence.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Ash and Vern, working together in companionable silence, moved slowly behind the herd. Occasionally one of them would veer off to force an errant calf back to its mother’s side, or lasso an ornery cow that wandered too far from the rest.

  It was a perfect spring day. Sunny but cool enough that they were comfortable in the saddle.

  Once they began the climb toward the hills above Brenna’s ranch, the cattle moved along the familiar territory at a faster pace. They were soon milling about their spring range, feasting on the abundant grass that grew there.

  Vern looked annoyed. “Now what’s keeping that lazy drifter?”

  “I’m sure he’s on his way.” Ash pulled out his cell phone and punched in Brenna’s number. The phone rang and rang before her message played.

  “Hey, Sunshine. Vern and I are here with the herd. What’s the holdup with Noah? I hope he didn’t develop any complications before the clinic could release him. Call me when you get this message.”

  He dropped the phone into his shirt pocket. “I’m sure we’ll hear from her in a few minutes.”

  Noah played Ash’s message and shot a triumphant grin at Brenna. “Sounds like your boyfriend’s not happy being stuck babysitting your cows. But that’s all good news for me. It means he and the old geezer haven’t been to the house yet, and don’t know you’ve gone missing. We’ve just bought ourselves a whole lot of time.”

  At his words, Brenna’s heart fell to her toes. How long, she wondered, would Ash and Vern wait in the highlands before giving up and heading toward her place?

  By the time they realized she was missing, she could be hundreds of miles away.

  Or dead.

  Noah had shown no mercy toward Sammy. Why should she expect him to treat her any differently?

  “Where are you taking me?”

  “You’ll see when we get there.”

  “But why? Why take me, when you got what you came for?”

  “Maybe what I really came for is you.”

  She visibly paled.

  Seeing how his words affected her, he became animated, clearly enjoying the role of tormentor. “So, your old man was a drunk. A mean one. I know a thing or two about that.”

  She went very still. “How do you know about my father?”

  “Maybe I heard people talking.”

  “Up in the hills with the cattle?”

  He shot her a narrowed look. “You’re too smart for your own good. If you’re not careful, I’ll tape that mouth. Or maybe I’ll just silence you the way I did your dog.”

  She refused to be cowed. “Tell me how you know about my father.”

  He swore. “You’re just like him. There was no shutting him up, either.”

  “So you did know him. You talked with him?”

  “Oh yeah. Mostly, he talked and I listened. You might say I took notes.” He chuckled at his little joke.

  “Where? Where was he? How did you meet him?”

  His head swiveled to study her. “I see I got your attention now.” He took his time, measuring words, parceling them out like a miser. “I met your daddy in an assisted-living place where I was working. You might say I was his…personal aide.”

  “How did he look?” Her tone was nearly pleading. “Was he clean and sober?”

  Noah gave a dry laugh. “I don’t know about clean, but he was sober. He also got religion, which turned him into a real bore. There’s nothing worse than a recovered drunk who’s ashamed of his past and wants to spend the rest of his life converting the whole world.”

  Brenna sat back, trying to imagine her father sober and religious. It was almost more than she could take in. “Did he ever…mention me?” Her voice trembled slightly.

  “When didn’t he? You’re all he talked about. How you looked just like your mother. How she’d forgiven him before she died, and how he hoped and prayed his beautiful daughter would do the same.”

  His beautiful daughter.

  Brenna fell silent, trying to reconcile the image of the angry, abusive father she’d known with the man he’d apparently become in his old age.

  He’d never called her beautiful. Or pretty. Or even sweet. All he’d ever hurled at her were angry, hurtful names.

  Feeling full of himself, Noah managed a sly smile. “You’re about to join him, you know.”

  Despite her pain, her terror about the very real danger she was facing at this man’s hands, she latched onto the only thing that he was willing to talk about. “You’re taking me to my father? Why didn’t you tell me that sooner?”

  “Would it have made any difference?”

  “Of course it would. I want to see him. And if you’d been honest from the beginning, you wouldn’t have had to go through any of this. I’d have been happy to give you whatever you wanted, and I’d have come willingly, without being tied or forced.”

  She saw an odd look come over him. Smug at first, as though he’d won the lottery. But then his eyes went hard as flint, and he looked at her in a way that had her blood turning to ice.

  “The only thing I hate more than a reformed drunk is a woman who pretends she can forgive the drunk who abused her.”

  “I do forgive him.” She said it simply, from the heart.

  His hand shot out so quickly she didn’t see it coming and slapped her hard. Her head snapped to one side, and the prints of his fingers left red welts on her cheek.

  While tears welled up in her eyes and spilled over, he merely laughed. “We’ll see just how forgiving you really are. Before I’m through with you, you’ll be cursing my name. And just for fun, I’ll let you call me Daddy.”

  “Okay. I’ve waited long enough.” Ash plucked his phone from his pocket and dialed the clinic in Copper Creek. After several rings he said, “Hey, Kate. Ash MacKenzie here. Was there a holdup on Brenna’s wrangler, Noah Perkins?”

  He listened, then said, “Thanks, Kate. I’ll check her place.”

  He turn
ed to Vern with a frown. “Brenna and Noah left the clinic two hours ago. You stay with the herd. I’m heading to Brenna’s house.”

  He dug in his heels, urging his mount into a gallop. Along the way he tried her phone several times, but always got her message. By the time he came around the barn and saw no trace of Brenna’s truck, he’d gone over a dozen different scenarios in his mind, and all of them too frightening to accept. Now, as he struggled to dismiss yet another vision of Brenna in harm’s way, he came closer to the back porch and caught sight of Sammy lying still and small in the yard.

  He vaulted out of the saddle and raced toward the puppy. The earth around his tiny body was wet with blood.

  Cradling the bloodied pup in his arms, Ash sprinted up the steps, shouting Brenna’s name.

  The silence of the rooms mocked him.

  He gently settled the still form of the pup on its bed and felt the feeble, thready pulse. Alive, but barely. He covered him with a sun-warmed afghan before walking to the parlor. He took one look at the ruined ceiling, and the piles of dust and debris, before turning away. Then he realized that Brenna’s rifle was missing. As he started out of the room he caught sight of something glittering on the rug near the door.

  He bent and picked it up, at the same moment punching in the police chief’s number.

  “Ira. Ash here.” His voice was tight as he fought to control the absolute terror rising within him. “I’m at Brenna’s place. Her puppy’s been shot and left for dead. Her parlor ceiling has been trashed. No sign of Brenna, her truck, her rifle, or the drifter she’d picked up at the clinic this morning. I’m certain she didn’t go with him willingly.”

  “Did she leave you any message?”

  Ash opened his hand to stare at the delicate gold filigree. “She left me a sign. It’s unmistakable.”

  “All right. That’s good enough for me.” The two exchanged terse words as the police chief asked the make and model of her old truck before saying, “I’ll get the state police on it right away. They can have aerial observation going within the hour.”

  “My family can have a plane up even sooner than that.” Ash rang off and called his brother.

  In quick, staccato phrases he explained what was happening and what he needed.

  Whit didn’t waste time with unnecessary questions. There would be time enough later for answers. For now he said simply, “Brady and I will have the plane ready when you get here.”

  “Thanks. I’m on my way.” Ash called Vern and told him what he’d found, including the near-lifeless body of Sammy. “Leave the herd and get here as fast as you can. If Noah got what he wanted from that ceiling, there was no reason to take Brenna along, unless he plans to hurt her. He shot Sammy, probably with Brenna’s own rifle. I have no doubt he’s capable of much more violence.”

  The old cowboy heard the pain and fury in Ash’s voice and said simply, “I’m heading there now. You go after her. And Ash?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You bring her home, son.”

  “You know I will, Vern. Or die trying.”

  Chapter Twenty-six

  By the time Ash reached his family’s ranch, Brady and Whit had the Cessna Skyhawk fueled and had completed their preflight check.

  The entire family, including Mad in his wheelchair, were gathered outside the barn that housed the aircraft. Beyond was an airstrip for easy takeoffs and landings, which they’d built years earlier.

  Though they were bursting with questions, one look at Ash’s face warned them to hold their silence and let him speak. He filled them in as quickly as possible.

  “Brady, I’d like you to handle the controls so I can take the copilot’s seat and watch for Brenna’s truck.”

  The foreman nodded and climbed aboard.

  Ash turned to his mother and brothers. “I’d like you to take our ranch trucks and fan out to cruise some of the roads and trails. You’ll be looking for Brenna’s tan pickup, but check out any vehicle with a man and woman. This guy may have already tried to ditch Brenna’s truck for something less conspicuous.”

  “Where do you think they’re headed?” Mad asked.

  “That’s the million-dollar question. I don’t have a clue. But since everyone in Copper Creek knows Brenna, I’m sure he’ll avoid the town.”

  Mad slammed a hand down on the arm of his wheelchair. “I’m going up with you and Brady.”

  “Mad…”

  The old man shook off Ash’s protest. “I know this land better’n anyone. There’s nothing wrong with my eyes or my brain. Now lift me up to the seat of that plane, and let’s get moving.”

  Ash did as he was told, stowing his grandfather and the wheelchair in the two rear seats.

  He turned to close a hand over Willow’s shoulder. “We have to find her, Mom. She’s in the hands of a madman.”

  Willow touched a hand to his cheek. “If there’s a heaven, Ash, and I truly believe there is, your father is already keeping Brenna safe until you can get to her.”

  “I’ll hold on to that thought.” He gave her a fierce hug before turning away to climb into the Cessna. With a roar of engines, it taxied along a strip of asphalt before lifting into the air.

  Willow, Griff, and Whit checked their cell phones and chose to search in different areas in order to cover as much ground as possible.

  “Check in with me at least every half hour,” Willow called before climbing into one of the ranch trucks and driving away in a cloud of dust.

  Whit and Griff followed and veered off in separate directions when they reached the highway.

  Brady guided the plane over lush rangeland and followed the meandering course of Copper Creek past green highland meadows and cool mountain peaks.

  While he easily handled the instruments, he encouraged Ash to go into detail about what had happened, knowing it would help if he could be encouraged to talk it out.

  Ash was filled with remorse. “I should have never left her alone. I should have been with her when she went to town to pick up that drifter from the clinic.”

  From the rear seat Mad’s voice was low with passion. “You didn’t know she was in any danger, lad.”

  “I didn’t like him. From the moment I met him, I sensed something about the guy.” Ash shook his head. “Vern felt it, too. He kept calling him lazy. He only hired him because he was desperate for some help. But the guy was more trouble than he was worth. Always asleep instead of tending the herd. Never around when Vern needed him. The old cowboy isn’t to blame. He has too much on his shoulders. But I should have caught on to this drifter sooner…”

  At the ring of his cell phone, he said gruffly, “Ash MacKenzie.”

  Recognizing the police chief, he turned his phone on speaker, so the others could hear as Ira’s voice boomed.

  “The state guys got a report on the drifter Vern hired. Noah Perkins, alias Nolan Parker, was fired from a nursing home when his background check showed a record as long as his arm. They alerted the authorities, but by then he was long gone. Now we suspect he’s the same guy that’s wanted, under various aliases, in four Western states for everything from armed robbery to murder.”

  Murder. It was the only word Ash heard. “Then this isn’t larceny any longer.”

  “That’s right. This guy is a real psycho.”

  “Could he be responsible for Pop’s murder?”

  “You know we’ll be checking every move he’s made to see if we can connect the dots.” The chief’s tone lowered. “There’s one more thing. Raleigh Crane checked himself out of that nursing home the same day that this guy was fired. Nobody has seen either one since.”

  Ash’s heart contracted with fear. “You think they’ve concocted some kind of scheme? Or is Raleigh a victim? I don’t like the sound of this, Ira.”

  “I know what you mean. I don’t like it, either. My thinking is that Brenna Crane is in serious danger.” The chief cleared his throat. “The state police are on watch on the ground, and they’ll be getting their aircraft up a
ny minute now.”

  “Thanks, Ira. We’re airborne, and the rest of the family is searching the roads and trails. Do you have any idea where this guy could be heading?”

  “I wish I had my crystal ball, Ash. But there was one thing. On his employment records he listed a ranch about a hundred miles east of Copper Creek as the place where he grew up. It’s probably a needle in a haystack, but it might be worth checking out.”

  While the chief gave directions, Brady brought it up on the GPS and pointed. “There. Really desolate land.”

  Ash nodded. “Thanks, Ira. We’re heading that way now.”

  “I’m going up in a helicopter with the state boys. Stay on our frequency. If you spot any life there, let us know. We’ll be right behind you.”

  The plane made a sharp turn and the three men fell silent as they charted their course toward what they hoped and prayed was the destination of the man who held Brenna’s life in his hands.

  The thought twisted inside Ash’s brain.

  She was in the hands of a man already wanted for murder.

  If a man killed once, did it matter to him how many more he added to his list of victims?

  Brenna’s head ached from the blow she’d absorbed from her rifle. The throbbing at her temple had her wanting to close her eyes against the constant glare of sunlight reflecting off the truck’s cab. Between the motion of their vehicle, bumping along like a covered wagon, and the piercing light burning her eyes, she was forced to fight back nausea. But she continued watching every turn, in the hope that she could somehow make her way back home when this was over.

  When this is over. It played like a litany in her mind.

  Right now, all of this seemed like a bad dream. But it was all too real. And she’d already seen the price poor little Sammy had paid for trying to defend her.

  She watched as the scenery slowly changed from ranches and herds grazing on rangeland to uninhabited stretches of land that could have come right out of the old West. An occasional shack, timbers rotted, roof caving in on itself, was the only sign that anyone had ever inhabited this land. This isolated area looked as though it had been defeated by plagues of grasshoppers, drought, and windstorms, until nothing was left but rocks and barren soil.