by B. J Daniels
“I should at least check on Allison and Dean,” Lamar said, rising again and shooting a look at Channing as if anywhere was better than in a room with her. She couldn’t argue the point. “I have to do something,” he said in a pleading tone that was meant for Dorothea, as if he thought she was going to argue with him.
She could see that the plow truck was no longer in sight. “Fine. See if you can get them to come back up here. We should all stay together.” Though it had little appeal. She was nervous enough without having to reassure all of them.
“Don’t bring that whiny bitch Allison back up here,” Channing said. “You’ll ruin my appetite.” Lamar shot her a withering look as he pushed out the door.
Dorothea turned to Channing. “You don’t seem to be a big fan of Allison’s.”
Channing chewed for a moment before she swallowed and said, “What is there to be a fan of?”
“You sure that’s not jealousy talking?”
Channing threw down what little was left of her sandwich on the napkin she’d been using. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“Just that I saw the two of you in several heated discussions. I got the feeling that you were fighting over a man.”
“What is this? Girl talk while we wait to see who lives and who dies?”
“Why not?” Dorothea asked. “You seem pretty complacent about what’s going on.”
“I told you, drama is nothing new for me. You want me to cry and get hysterical like Allison?” Channing shook her head. “That’s not me.”
“I’m trying to figure you out.”
“Really?” The young woman smiled as if enjoying the attention. “Apparently you haven’t yet.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that. Like earlier when Mick came back, I noticed something that I’d seen before but it didn’t really register until today.”
“Okay, I’ll bite. What?”
“When Kirk showed up with Huck. You were the only one who didn’t turn to see who was coming in the door.”
“Maybe I didn’t care.”
“It happened again today when Mick came in. Everyone else turned to see who it could be. But not you,” Dorothea said.
Channing said nothing for a moment. “So what? Have you noticed me caring about anything that’s been happening here?”
“It makes me wonder. Either you really couldn’t care less. Or you knew both times who would be showing up. Neither time were you surprised.”
“I told you, I’m not the hysterical oh-gosh type.”
“Maybe that’s it,” Dorothea conceded, but she frowned as she recalled something else. “Also I would have sworn that I saw you passing notes to Kirk and Mick.”
“Notes?” Channing laughed. “Like in grade school? Really?” She shook her head. “I think all this has gotten to you more than it has me.”
Dorothea started toward the fireplace to throw on another log when the phone rang. It startled her. It startled Channing, as well. This time the young woman turned to stare at the landline.
Rushing to the phone, Dorothea said, “Hello?” All she could think about was getting help for Will and Poppy.
“This is Sheriff Sid Anderson. Everyone all right up there? Got a call from Garrett worried—”
“No, we’re not all right. Will just left here in the old truck with the plow. He’s with Poppy Carmichael and the man with them has a gun. His name is—”
Dorothea realized that the line had gone dead. She swore, wondering how much he’d heard. As she looked up she frowned to see Channing had gotten up from where she’d been sitting. The woman now stood holding the other end of the phone line in her hand from where she’d just disconnected it from the wall.
“What did you do?” she cried as she stared disbelievingly at Channing.
“Oh, come on, Dorothea. Can’t you guess? You said you had me all figured out. Isn’t that what all the questions were about? Not girl talk. Just your insatiable curiosity. Clearly you haven’t heard what happens to the cat who got too curious.”
It came to her in a flash. All the pieces falling into place. The fights with Allison, the apparent disinterest in Kirk’s return as well as Mick’s. The passing of notes so no one knew about the three of them. Channing had known exactly who would be coming through the lodge door. “You and Mick.”
“Not in the way you’re thinking.” Channing jerked hard on the phone line. It came loose from the heavy old landline phone, the cord shooting in her direction. She began to reel it in, looping it into several thicknesses as she wrapped each end around her hands.
Dorothea saw at once what the woman planned to do. She felt her stomach drop to her feet. She could already feel the cord wrapped around her neck as Channing started toward her. Dorothea looked past her, gauging if she could reach the front door fast enough.
“I locked it while you were on the phone,” Channing said. “I already locked the back door earlier. So no one is coming to your rescue.”
From the couch, Ruby groaned and tried to get up. Dorothea could see that the DEA agent was too dizzy to stand. Ruby lay back with a moan and closed her eyes. Dorothea leaned on the small table that held the phone for a moment, her mind whirling, her heart a thunder in her chest, her mouth going dry. Channing was right. There was no place to run. No one to help her. She was on her own—just as Will and Poppy were. Lamar wouldn’t be coming back with the others. They would all be locked in their cabins. Lucky them.
Her hands began to sweat. She reached down to wipe them on her apron and realized she’d taken it off earlier and hung it over the chair at the desk where the landline had been plugged in only moments ago.
She stayed where she was—in reach of her apron. The woman seemed surprised and slowed when Dorothea didn’t try to run. Channing had the cord coiled in her hands like a garrote.
Out of the corner of her eye, Dorothea could see a piece of the dishcloth she’d wrapped the knife in sticking out of the pocket of her apron—and within reach. Relief made her weak-kneed for a moment. If she could get the knife out before—
She turned a little to hide what she was doing as she pretended to wipe her sweating palms on the apron fabric. “You made another mistake,” she said, surprised her voice sounded so calm as she tried to distract the woman. Reaching into the apron pocket as carefully as she could, she burrowed into the dishcloth feeling for the handle of the knife.
Channing laughed. “Do tell.”
“You think I’m a foolish old woman.”
The young woman’s laugh rose higher. “Crazy, but not foolish.”
Dorothea felt her eyes widen in alarm as she pushed the dishcloth still in the pocket of her apron aside. The knife was gone.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
POPPY FELT IN a daze. She kept telling herself this wasn’t happening and yet she could feel the cold, hard end of the barrel pressed against her temple and Mick’s arm around her so she couldn’t move.
Will seemed intent on his driving as the old plow truck labored through the drifts. Snow rose in the air to wash over them in hypnotizing waves. Her mind felt dull. She couldn’t imagine any way out of this. She and Will were going to die. Mick was a cold-blooded killer and now they were at his mercy.
Just the thought angered her. This was not the way she wanted to end her life. At least she’d had a few days with Will. She thought of the kisses and wished that they had made love. Now time might have run out. Even if they couldn’t be together, she wanted them both to survive. But how?
It was warm with the sun coming into the cab of the truck. Which was good because Mick hadn’t let her put on a coat. Which meant she stood little chance away from the truck. Is that what Mick was thinking? He’d leave them beside the road and take the truck himself at some point.
Even as she thought it, she knew not having a coat was the least of her problems. Mick wasn’t going to le
t either of them live.
Her heart broke at the thought. She needed to tell Will how she felt. He knew she’d come up to the ranch to seduce him with her cooking to try to get back at him for when they were young. He thought she wanted to break his heart. Which had been the plan. Now she wished she’d opened her heart to him and told him how she felt after being around the adult Will Sterling. Her cowboy had turned into an honorable man. He was so brave, so in control, even now when she was panicking inside.
As she glanced over at him, she knew he would do whatever he could to protect her—even at risk to himself. That was Will Sterling, the man she loved.
* * *
WILL HAD NO idea how far they could get down the road. Or what would happen when they couldn’t go any farther. But he suspected it would be bad and that’s what had him worried.
He had no plan. All of this had happened too fast. But if he got the chance, he would do whatever he had to do to get the gun away from Mick. Away from Poppy’s head.
His heart had been in his throat since the moment Mick grabbed her and put the gun to her head. He had tried so hard not to panic. All the things he should have said to her... Some he hadn’t even admitted to himself before that moment.
He tried to concentrate not on what could be lost this day, but how to get Poppy out of this.
Earlier, he’d seen that Mick had been favoring his left side. That told him that he was injured more than he wanted any of them to know. Apparently Kirk hadn’t gone down easy. No doubt at some point Kirk had realized why his partner in crime had broken him out.
Will thought he might be able to use Mick’s injury to their advantage.
“You all right, Mick?”
The man laughed. “A hell of a lot better than you.”
“I saw that you seemed to be in pain earlier. On your left side.”
“Mind your own business,” the man snapped. “I’m fine. Can’t you drive any faster?”
“I’m doing the best I can.”
“Maybe you should try to do better.”
Poppy let out a surprised cry as Mick grabbed her harder and jabbed her with the barrel of the gun.
“Drive and shut the hell up,” the man ordered.
Will heard the pain in Mick’s voice. He was definitely hurt more than he wanted anyone to know. He’d seen Mick grimace when the truck bounced over some hard-packed snow on the bumpy road out of the ranch.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Poppy looking at him. He was pretty sure she’d gotten the message.
Will looked ahead to where the road left the pines. He could see where Huck had broken through yesterday. But now the road had filled back in. There was little chance of getting through those drifts. He knew he had to make a decision.
He glanced over at Poppy. As if feeling his gaze, she turned to look at him. “Be ready,” he mouthed.
Her eyes widened in alarm but she gave an almost indiscernible nod and bit down on her lower lip.
“I’m going to have to get some speed up,” Will said. “Best hang on.”
He stomped on the gas. The old truck reacted slowly, but since they were headed downhill, it didn’t take much for it to speed up even before the engine caught up. The roar of the motor filled the cab of the pickup. Snow poured over the hood and up onto the windshield, the wipers doing little to clear it as the truck busted through the snow.
Will glanced at Poppy and gave her a slight nod, hoping she saw what was coming.
* * *
POPPY COULDN’T SEE how they could survive this, no matter what plan Will had, but she loved him for having one. She yearned to be in his arms. If only he could hold her one more time.
She glanced over at Will. He gripped the wheel, busting through the snow, the truck engine howling. What was in his heart? She didn’t know. And that hurt more than anything. She didn’t want to die before she told Will how she felt about him. Even if he didn’t feel the same way—
“Will, there is something I need to tell you,” she said, having to raise her voice to be heard over the roar.
“This might not be the time, Poppy.”
Her laugh was strangled. “This might be all the time we have. So I have to tell you how I feel about you.”
“Oh, give me a break,” Mick said.
“I love you. I fell for you at twelve but I didn’t know you like I do now. You’re a good man, a kind, caring, loving man—”
“Enough,” Mick said. “I can’t take this sappy crap.”
The truck was barreling toward the first of the huge drifts. Will was hanging on to the wheel, fighting it as the truck was buffeted by the fallen snow. She could see that he was fighting to keep it on the road, though she couldn’t imagine how he could even see where the road was.
“This is not where I wanted to say this—”
“Now shut up and drive or so help me...” Mick tapped the barrel of the gun against Poppy’s temple threateningly.
Will glanced over at her. She gave a small nod of her head, telling him she hoped that it was all right. She could tell how he felt. It was all in the way he looked at her.
Sniffing, she lifted her arms to wipe her eyes, making the man groan. But it forced Mick to loosen his hold around her neck. He sat back a little, as if sitting too close to her hurt his left side. She had noticed even before Will had made a point of mentioning it. Mick was hurt. Not badly enough that he was apt to pass out, but enough that she could feel him grimacing with each bump in the road.
Ahead she could see nothing through the snow washing over the old truck. But before they’d started down this hill she’d seen the towering snowdrifts down in the flats. She was pretty sure that when the plow on the truck hit them, they were all going to go flying. She couldn’t wait any longer.
She brought her right elbow down hard into Mick’s side and shoved the barrel of the gun way. The deafening report of the gun filled the cab. The driver’s-side window exploded a moment before Will forced open his door, grabbed Poppy and flung them both from the truck.
* * *
“IS THERE A PROBLEM?” Channing asked, chuckling as she took another step toward the older woman. “Suddenly you look a little pale. Are you ill?”
Dorothea glanced at the couch where Ruby seemed to be fading in and out from her concussion. She knew she wouldn’t be getting any help from the DEA agent. She also knew in a footrace Channing would win. She had youth on her side. But Dorothea had cunning, she told herself as she tried to still her racing heart. A plan had come to her, but timing would be everything. She had to let the woman believe she’d won. That strangling her with the phone cord would be easy because Dorothea was running scared now.
But where was the knife Channing had taken from the apron pocket? That’s what worried her. And yet, so far all the woman had for a weapon was that phone cord that she held in both hands as she approached.
“Don’t run,” Channing said. “You’ll waste your time and mine. The thing is, if the sheriff is calling, then he’s a long way off. Anything can happen before he gets here.”
Dorothea thought of Allison, Dean and Lamar. They weren’t coming back to save her. No one was. Channing thought she could get away with this. She and Mick both. Maybe they could. Channing could take the keys to Poppy’s SUV. The keys were probably up in her room. The woman could simply follow the road that Will had plowed to where she would find Mick waiting for her.
Channing took another step toward her. Dorothea hadn’t moved from the desk. She leaned against it as if she needed it to keep her legs from giving out under her while she waited, knowing it was risky. Channing was almost to her. Another step and the woman would raise her arms to reach behind Dorothea’s neck with the phone cord wrapped tightly around both of her hands. It would be so easy to choke the life of a woman twice her age.
Dorothea waited until Channing took that step, made that
move, lifting her arms and quickly bringing them down, encircling her neck. She’d had to let the woman get close enough that her plan would work. It was imperative that she time it perfectly since Channing looked strong. If the young woman overpowered her—
For a moment, Dorothea was thrown off balance. She started to stumble toward the woman as Channing began to twist the cord and shut off her airflow. The cord bit into her neck as she reached for the ancient black landline phone from the desk. The base weighed ten pounds easily. Even the receiver was heavy. She picked up both, one in each hand, and swung.
Dorothea struck Channing first in the head with the receiver, catching her off guard. All it did was stun the young woman, but it loosened the stranglehold Channing had on her. Dorothea hit her again, this time with the solid base of the phone. She heard bone crunch as she slammed the phone base into the side of the woman’s head as hard as she could. She knew she had only one chance. If she failed—The cord was tight around her neck, cutting off her air.
As the blow struck her, Channing fell backward. Dorothea had no choice but to fall with her because of the cord around her neck still attached to the woman’s hands. But as she did, she hit Channing again for good measure with the phone base, then pounded her on the other side of the head with the receiver.
By the time they hit the floor, Dorothea landing on top of the younger woman, Channing was unconscious.
Shaking and breathing hard, she feared the woman could come to at any moment and finish the job she’d started. Dorothea put down her weapons and hurriedly unwrapped the cord from one of Channing’s hands and then the other, pulling it off her own throat. She gasped for breath as she was freed of the cord choking her.
For a moment she just breathed, then taking the cord, she flipped Channing over and quickly bound the woman’s hands behind her. As she finished, Channing came to and began to fight her, trying to get up. Dorothea reached for her apron and, sitting on Channing’s legs to hold her down, used the apron straps to bind her ankles together.
