Colton Christmas Rescue

by Beth Cornelison

  Slade related to the new arrivals the context of Mathilda’s call, including her directions and warnings.

  “So we do what she says,” Amanda said, a note of panic in her voice. “I don’t care about Jethro’s tainted money! All I care about is getting my daughter back unhurt.”

  “We won’t let your daughter be hurt,” Chief Peters said. “But we can’t let her or Jared Hansen escape again.”

  “And we can’t give them a reason to hurt her by defying her warnings!” Amanda replied, her voice rising in pitch.

  Slade pulled Amanda into his arms and stroked her back. “Let me go. Alone. Like Mathilda said.” A murmur of disagreement rumbled through assembled men, and Slade raised his voice to be heard over the din. “I’ve worked cases like this before for the state Bureau. I’ll be armed, I’ll stay in contact via radio and I’ll be watching her when she comes to collect the money.”

  Chief Peters exchanged a look with one of the FBI agents, who’d introduced himself as Agent Colby and who was clearly the senior agent in charge. Colby gave a terse nod.

  “She just contacted me using Jared Hansen’s cell phone.” Slade looked to the FBI agents. “Can you get people working a GPS trace on the phone? If she keeps it with her for further communication, we can track her using the GPS signal from the phone.”

  “Good thinking. I’ll set it up,” Agent Colby said.

  “All right,” Peters said, facing Slade. “We have a helicopter on standby to help locate Ms. Perkins after she leaves the drop-off, and we’ll be ready to move out as soon as you have word where Hansen has the baby.”

  “Meanwhile, take your positions surrounding the north pasture from every direction,” Slade said. He gave Amanda a kiss on the forehead and gently moved her aside as he sprang into action. “But stay back, stay quiet, stay hidden.”

  Two-way radios were distributed, horses saddled and a map of the ranch property and surrounding terrain spread on a worktable for the FBI agents’ benefit. Within fifteen minutes, Slade was on Zeus, had the satchel containing the ransom strapped to his saddle and was riding out into the cold Wyoming morning.

  * * *

  Amanda tugged her scarf up over her nose when an icy breeze sent a chill rippling through her. Prince William snorted and shook his head, rattling his harness restlessly. She leaned forward in her saddle and patted his neck, whispering, “Shh. Easy boy. We gotta stay quiet.”

  Despite her calming words for PW, Amanda’s nerves jangled like her horse’s bit and reins. She’d ridden out with Gray, Stewie and one of the FBI agents to cover the east perimeter of the north pasture. Hidden behind a steep rise, they couldn’t see any of what was transpiring in the frozen meadow beyond the hill where they waited. Slade had been gone for almost an hour. They’d maintained radio silence, concerned Mathilda could somehow hear the broadcast and balk. The waiting was killing her.

  She idly rubbed her gloved thumb on her saddle’s horn, lost in worrisome thoughts. Was Cheyenne cold? Had they fed her? What if Mathilda suspected a trap?

  A large hand covered hers, and she jerked her head up to meet Gray’s warm brown eyes. Before marrying Catherine and leaving the ranch for the police academy, Gray had been the ranch’s foreman, and as a boy, he’d been his father’s apprentice while his father served as the Coltons’ foreman. Through the years, working side by side in the stable, riding fence and laughing together on sunny summer days, Amanda and Gray had formed a solid friendship. Now, his comforting gesture wrapped her in an invisible hug. He lifted one corner of his mouth and gave a silent nod. Things will be okay.

  She drew a deep breath and managed a weak smile of thanks. When the radio crackled, her heartbeat scampered.

  Slade’s voice said, “Peters, you there?”

  “Go ahead,” Chief Peters’s voice answered.

  “Ms. Perkins has the satchel, and she’s headed west, toward the woods. Everyone hold positions until I get her call, saying where Jared has Cheyenne.”

  “Roger that,” Peters answered, and the radio fell silent again.

  Gray squeezed her hand before he let go, then swung his attention to the top of the rise. “Here he comes.”

  Amanda shielded her eyes against the glare of the sun off the snow and spotted Slade, riding over the hill toward them. His expression hardened when he saw her.

  “What are you—” Then jerking his gaze to Gray, “Why is she here?”

  Amanda bristled. “I’m helping recover my daughter. What does it look like?”

  The furrow in his brow deepened. “It could be dangerous. You should be back at the house—”

  “Sitting on my hands, being a good little girl, waiting for word from the big tough men?” she finished for him with an edge in her tone. “If you think I could ever be satisfied being that person, you don’t know me at all. Cheyenne is my daughter, and I will be part of her rescue.”

  Slade opened his mouth to respond, but the distant drone of an ATV engine drifted over the rise. Everyone stiffened. Whipping the radio to his mouth, Slade snarled, “I said hold positions! Whose ATV is that?”

  A series of denials from the various hands and police officers followed before George’s voice cut through the clutter. “It’s Jared! He just left the woods, and he’s cutting across the coulee about a quarter of a mile from where I am. He’s got the baby with him!”

  Adrenaline surged in Amanda’s blood as her gaze clashed with Slade’s, effectively saying, “No way will I stay back. This is my fight.”

  Begrudging resignation flashed over his face as he turned his horse and followed Gray and Stewie to the top of the ridge for a view of the long coulee below. A half mile or more from them, a lone ATV trekked through the thin layer of snow. Amanda could just make out Cheyenne’s pink snowsuit in the baby carrier that was loaded precariously on the back of the ATV.

  “Oh, chickpea!” Amanda whispered as she kicked Prince William to a run, following Slade, Gray and Stewie as they charged down the slope into the bowl of the coulee. Amanda raced forward, Slade at her side, matching her speed as their horses ate up the distance between them and Cheyenne. Amanda kept her sights locked on the ATV, desperate to reach her daughter.

  Suddenly Jared’s head snapped up, as if only then noticing the men on horseback closing in on him. He scanned the surrounding hills and cut the ATV hard to the right, attempting an escape. When he gunned the engine, the acceleration coupled with the change in direction made the ATV tip up on two wheels. The baby carrier was pitched off, into the snow.

  A scream slipped from Amanda’s throat. “No! Cheyenne!”

  Jared righted the ATV, glanced back at the baby carrier on the ground behind him and forsook his hostage in order to expedite his escape.

  Amanda’s breath hung in her lungs as they rushed across the pasture toward the fallen baby carrier. Please, God, let her not have been hurt in the fall!

  Amanda and the men gained ground on Jared, closing the distance between them to a couple football fields. When Slade pulled ahead, almost overtaking Jared, the panicked hand drew a gun. Turning, he fired two shots.

  Amanda gasped as Prince William spooked, turning from their path, rearing up on his hind legs and throwing her to the ground.

  “Amanda!” Gray reined his horse and swung down from his saddle. He knelt beside her, his brow creased with worry. “Are you hurt?”

  Though the breath had been knocked from her and she’d hit the ground with a jarring impact, she dismissed her own aches. Her attention stayed locked on the fleeing kidnapper and the baby seat lying upside down in the snow. She was so close to her baby and still so far...

  She waved Gray off, gasping, “I’m...okay. Help Cheyenne.”

  * * *

  When Jared fired again, Slade felt the heat of the bullet as it whizzed past his ear, missing him by inches. He returned fire, aiming for t
he young ranch hand’s leg. And hit his mark.

  Jared howled in pain and clutched at his thigh.

  Slade charged forward, then jumped from Zeus onto Jared’s back. Together, they tumbled into the snow, and Slade wrestled for possession of the hand’s gun. Stunned as he was by his leg injury and being tackled, Jared lost the weapon in seconds, but recovered his wits enough to head-butt Slade in the nose.

  Pain blurred Slade’s vision briefly, and he felt the warm seeping of blood from his injured nose. Rearing back with a fist, he smacked Jared across the jaw.

  Stewie arrived and rushed toward the men tangled in combat.

  “No!” Slade shouted, his focus on restraining Jared. “He’s mine. Get Cheyenne!”

  Stewie disappeared from his peripheral view, and Slade backed away enough to dodge a blow from Jared. But that distance gave the hand room to raise his good leg and kick out, planting his foot in Slade’s chest.

  Air whooshed from Slade’s lungs as he stumbled back. Recovering his balance, he charged Jared again, knocking him flat. Slade struggled to pin down his opponent’s shoulders, and Jared fumbled at his hip...and whipped out a buck knife. Slade saw a flash of metal, felt the tug on his sleeve then the sting of the blade slicing his arm.

  Jared wielded the knife with deadly intent, swinging and thrusting it at Slade. Adrenaline and fury fueled Slade’s fight. He blocked one strike, dodged another, then blocked a third before a shadow fell over them.

  Gray pressed the muzzle of his gun to Jared’s temple and grated, “Drop the knife, Hansen, or I’ll put a hole in your head.”

  Jared stilled.

  Slade seized the opportunity to grab Jared’s wrists, hook a foot around the young man’s feet and take him to the ground.

  Panting for a breath, he glared at the man who’d caused Amanda so much heartache and snarled, “You’re under arrest, you bastard.”

  A muffled cry reached him, yanking his attention to Cheyenne. Stewie had the carrier turned over, but was fumbling with the straps that held Cheyenne.

  “Take him,” he told Gray, releasing his prisoner to Amanda’s brother-in-law before racing over to Cheyenne. Swiping blood from his nose, he dropped to his knees and pushed Stewie aside. “Don’t cry, baby girl. You’re safe now.”

  * * *

  Abandoning Prince William, who was still jittery and uncooperative, Amanda started running the remaining distance to her child. Her legs were weak and wobbly as emotions flooded her, and she staggered in the slick snow. Hot tears left tracks on her cheeks that quickly froze and stung her skin. But her focus was entirely on the scene before her.

  Slade was locked in a hand-to-hand fight with Jared, and Stewie was at Cheyenne’s carrier. Finally, Gray reached the scene and, having subdued Jared, Slade rushed over to her daughter and lifted her into his arms. A tiny wail drifted across the pasture, and a pure sweet relief that Cheyenne was alive and in safe hands flooded Amanda. Her legs buckled, and she collapsed on her knees in the snow, crying happy tears and shaking from spent adrenaline. As she watched, holding her breath, Slade gave Cheyenne a quick once-over for injury, then clutched her baby to his chest.

  I can’t believe God would be cruel enough to let two babies I loved die. Slade’s words from the day before echoed in her mind, and a pang lanced her heart. Slade loved Cheyenne.

  He stood there for a long moment, simply cradling Cheyenne to his chest with his head bent over her, his body swaying in the age-old motion intended to soothe a baby. Stewie backed away, then turned to help Gray restrain Jared. From the opposite end of the coulee, more men on horseback and ATVs appeared and hurried toward the scene.

  Icy dampness was soaking through the knees of Amanda’s jeans, but she couldn’t move. She stared, transfixed, as Slade raised his head and locked his gaze on her. With a long, sure strides, he crossed the snowy field toward her. He cut a striking image. His black cowboy hat and broad shoulders stood out against the wintry backdrop. His chiseled jaw was set, and his blue eyes were brighter than the Wyoming sky. All the air whooshed from her lungs as she drank in the breathtaking view of the man she loved.

  A startled noise wheezed from her throat. She loved Slade. The truth spun a fresh wave of tender emotion through her, and tears filled her eyes. As he neared her, she could see his cheeks were damp and streaked with blood, his eyes rimmed in red.

  Her pulse hitched. He’d been crying. Whether in relief, or joy...or remembering the daughter he’d lost far too soon, she didn’t know. A little of each, she’d guess.

  She trembled and hiccupped a half sob, half laugh as he dropped to his knees beside her and placed Cheyenne in her waiting arms.

  “She’s okay, Mom,” he said, his voice cracking. “Your little girl’s okay.”

  Amanda hugged Cheyenne close, kissing her head and rocking with her, side-to-side. Tipping her head up to meet Slade’s eyes, she said, “Our little girl.”

  His expression reflected surprise first, then melted into a tender smile of gratitude that she understood his pain and his connection to Cheyenne. “Thank you.”

  She curled her hand around the back of his head and pulled him closer. “No, thank you,” she murmured before covering his mouth with a deep kiss.

  A satisfied rumble purred in Slade’s throat as he wrapped Cheyenne and Amanda in a bear hug and returned Amanda’s kiss with unrestrained passion.

  When Cheyenne wiggled and whined, Slade backed away just enough to stroke a finger over the baby’s red cheek. “She’s cold. You should get her back to the house and have Levi check her out.”

  Amanda nodded her agreement. “Are you coming with us?”

  He shook his head as he pushed to his feet and checked the chamber on his service weapon. “My job out here’s not done.”

  A spasm of fear and dread twisted her gut. Mathilda was still out there. Still a threat.

  She noticed the blood on his sleeve then and gasped. “You’re injured!”

  He flicked a casual glance at his bleeding arm. “Not badly. Just a cut.”

  “You need a doctor.”

  “Not now. I have to finish this.”

  With one hand, she tugged her scarf from her neck. “At least wrap it with something to stop the bleeding.” She held the scarf out. “Here.”

  With her help, he tied the scarf tightly around his injured arm.

  Slade’s radio crackled to life. “Agent Kent, we’ve got Hansen in custody. My officers are taking him back to the station,” Chief Peters said.

  Slade glanced back across the pasture where police officers were putting Jared on the back of an ATV, and he released a huge sigh. “Thank God.” Then in the radio, “Roger that. What about Perkins?”

  Amanda cuddled Cheyenne close as she listened to the radio exchange.

  “FBI has a fix on her location. She appears to be on foot, nearing the county road through the woods north of you. Helo is en route but won’t be able to set down in those trees.”

  “Damn,” Slade muttered under his breath. “I’m on my way.” He held a hand out to Amanda, which she took, and he pulled her close for a kiss. “Keep a sharp eye out going home.” He shoved his service weapon in her coat pocket. “Do not hesitate to use this if you need to.”

  Her eyes widened. “What about you? What if you need it?”

  He caught Prince William’s reins and walked her horse to her. “I’ll get a replacement from Peters or Agent Colby.”

  “But—”

  He smacked another kiss on her lips and touched her cheek. “I’ll be fine. I’ll hold Cheyenne while you climb up.”

  After Amanda was settled in her saddle with Cheyenne securely zipped inside her coat, Slade tugged the brim of his Stetson. “I’ll see you back at the house.”

  Before she could reply, before she could beg him to be careful, he’d turned and was jog
ging back across the frozen coulee toward Zeus.

  Cheyenne wiggled and whined, drawing Amanda’s attention. “It’s okay, chickpea. Mommy’s got you.”

  With one arm around her daughter, Amanda flicked the reins and headed back to the house. But her thoughts were with Slade and the hunt for the heartless woman who had, for months, made her life a living hell.

  * * *

  Slade rode Zeus up beside Gray and Trevor, who were in a huddle with George and Stewie. “What’d I miss?”

  “Mostly a lot of resistance and name-calling. Hansen’s headed to the police station,” Trevor said.

  A few yards away, one of Chief Peters’s officers talked with an FBI agent over a map spread on a large rock. Slade glanced back at Trevor and Gray. “Speaking of which, I gave Amanda my gun for the ride back to the house. Either of you have another piece on you? The FBI has a bead on Mathilda near the county road, and I want a part of her takedown. I can’t imagine she’ll give up without a fight.”

  Trevor reached under his coat and pulled out a pistol. “Take mine. Peters has asked me to follow his men to the station with Jared. Be present for his interrogation. I’m heading that way in a few minutes with Agent Colby.” Slade took the proffered weapon. “It’s got a full clip. Eight plus one.”

  “Thanks.” Slade nodded to Trevor then turned to Gray. “Join me?”

  The former foreman’s eyes darkened, and his mouth drew into a tight line. “With pleasure.”

  The whoop of an approaching helicopter drew Slade’s attention, and he tipped his head back, shading his eyes from the sun as the chopper passed overhead. “That’s our cue.”

  Slade gave Zeus a kick and headed out at a run in the direction the helicopter flew. Gray and the hands followed until they reached the edge of the tree line. “Stewie, George, stay here and keep watch in case she gives us the slip and doubles back this way.”

  The hands looked genuinely disappointed not to be in on Mathilda’s capture, but Slade couldn’t have civilians in the line of fire in case of a volatile confrontation. As he rode into the woods where Mathilda had disappeared, his eyes needed a moment to adjust to the dappling of shadows and broken beams of sunlight. He and Gray proceeded at a trot, their gazes scanning, their weapons ready. A twig snapped loudly under Zeus’s hoof, and Slade tensed. Exhaled. Get it together. Focus!