Renegade: A Taggart Brothers Novel

by Lisa Bingham

  “Jace!” Bronte burst through the screen door and he dropped back to the ground. He caught her by the arms as she stumbled over the uneven ground.

  “The jar,” she gasped. “The butterfly jar is gone. And her quilt.”

  At the same time, the phone in his pocket emitted a shrill ring. Jace grabbed it from one hand.

  “Yeah.”

  “When there was no sign of Barry at my place, I went back to the Big House to check his room. There was a note taped to his door. Heck if I can figure out what it says. See what you can make of it.” There was the rustling of paper, then, “Gone to sit Goldie free. Be back super.”

  Bronte tugged on Jace’s sleeve. “Lily named her butterfly Goldie. It must have come out of its cocoon overnight.”

  “That means that he’s heading for the summer pasture.”

  On the other end of the phone, Elam said, “I’ll head for the barn and see if Snuffles is gone. The hired men have the ATVs.”

  “Bronte and I will head back that way. If Barry’s horse is missing, saddle up Greystoke and put him in the trailer.” Jace squinted up at the sky and the heavy clouds that seemed to be piling up against the mountaintops. “I’ll see if I can head the kids off before the road runs out. If not, I’ll ride toward the camp and intercept them.”

  “You want me to go with you?”

  “No. I need someone to coordinate things here in case they head back and I miss them along the way.”

  Bronte tugged on his sleeve again. “Tell him to saddle two horses.”

  Jace opened his mouth to refuse, knowing he could make better time on his own. But when he caught the shadow of fear in her eyes, he knew that nothing on earth could have prevented him from going after Barry, and she probably felt the same.

  “You’ll need to saddle up a mount for Bronte as well. She’s coming with me.”

  “How experienced is she?”

  He saw Bronte stiffen as if she thought she would have to fight to be included, so he said, “She’s a beginner. Snowflake should work fine.”

  “Consider it done.”

  When he hung up, Bronte threw her arms around his neck. “Thank you, Jace. I couldn’t stand to wait here. Not with a storm on the way.”

  “I know, sweetheart.”

  He absorbed the sensation of her pressed against him, to inhale the sweet floral scent of her perfume. Then he released her.

  “Get your coat, some slick-soled shoes, a hat, and some gloves if you have them.”

  “Okay.”

  “Let Annie know what’s going on and text Kari so she doesn’t walk into this mess unaware when she comes home. I’ll hook the trailer onto my truck and be back for you.”

  She hugged him one more time, then ran toward the house.

  It took nearly thirty minutes for Jace to return to the ranch and load everything up. The whole time he kept an eye on the sky, which was growing more ominous. Since he was afraid he and Bronte might get caught in the weather, he packed more heavily than he would have if he were heading into the mountains on his own, adding extra food and water to the items Elam had already gathered. By the time he’d taken his place behind the wheel, he was anxious to be underway.

  Jace heard the latch hit home on the trailer, then Elam rounded the back to approach his window.

  “You’re going to be out of cell service halfway up the canyon,” Elam said. “After that, coverage is intermittent.”

  Jace nodded. “I know. I’ll get word to you as soon as I can.”

  “Despite his disability, he’s a smart kid, Jace. You’ve taught him well. If a storm breaks, he knows how to get out of the weather.”

  “I hope so. If he or Lily gets hurt …”

  “Don’t borrow trouble before it comes on its own. You know how much he loves that little girl. He’d never do anything to intentionally harm her. Remember that and trust him to do the right thing.”

  “If I could trust him to do the right thing, he wouldn’t have run off like this in the first place.”

  Elam touched his shoulder through the window. “Look at it from his point of view. His friend has been in pain and he made a promise to take her up to the poppy grove when her butterfly emerged. He’s not thinking about us.”

  “Obviously.”

  “He’s thinking about her.”

  Jace knew Elam was right, but he still couldn’t help thinking that if he’d stayed to watch Barry get on the bus, if he’d waited a few more minutes before beginning his own hectic day, he would have seen Lily approach.

  But with the hay broker arriving and his own tight schedule, would he have canceled everything and helped Barry? Probably not. He would have made him wait until the weekend. Or longer.

  Maybe that was the reason Barry had decided to take Lily to the summer pastures on his own. Not because he was flouting authority, but because he didn’t want to bother Jace when he was busy. After all, he’d followed the same procedure he would have used if he’d saddled his horse and gone for a ride to Elam’s cabin or to Annie’s. He’d left a note, clearly explaining where he was going and when he would be back. He simply hadn’t realized how far away the poppy grove really was.

  Elam slapped him on the shoulder.

  “He’ll be all right, Jace. They both will.”

  Jace nodded. He had to think that. Otherwise he’d go crazy.

  His phone rang, and after seeing it was Bronte, he answered with, “I’m on my way to your place now.”

  “Good. Because someone at the school took it upon themselves to call the sheriff’s department. I didn’t pick up my phone in time and they left a message that they’d be stopping by as soon as they could to investigate the situation.”

  “Oh, hell.” Jace reached to start his engine. Then, lifting the phone away from his mouth, Jace said, “Someone called the police.”

  Elam scowled.

  Bronte’s voice rose in panic. “Jace, I don’t want to wait that long. Not with the weather closing in.”

  “Tell Bronte to send them to the Big House,” Elam said. “I’ll answer their questions so the two of you can get going. In the meantime, I’ll keep my eye out for Peña.”

  “Bronte?”

  “I heard.”

  Shifting the truck into gear, Jace shot his brother a look of gratitude, then slowly eased away from the yard.

  “Hang on, Bronte. I’ll be there in less than five minutes.”

  *

  AS soon as Jace rolled to a stop in front of Annie’s house, Bronte dodged out of the door. Thankfully, Kari had returned from school in time for Bronte to explain that she and Jace were going to try to intercept the children. Kari had wanted to come as well, but Bronte had taken her to the side and explained that, because Annie tired quickly, Bronte needed Kari to man the phones and help her grandmother until Bronte could return.

  The truck hadn’t even come to a complete stop before she was hopping into the passenger seat. Then Jace was putting the truck in gear and heading for the dirt service road.

  Immediately Bronte became aware of the addition of the trailer. The truck handled differently, especially as they climbed up the road leading to Elam’s cabin. When the horses shifted, Bronte felt the truck shudder slightly.

  “Are you sure we can pull the trailer up such a steep slope?”

  Jace smiled reassuringly. “This is nothing compared to what we usually pull.” He lifted the center console and motioned for her to take the center spot. “Come on over here. We’ll take this track up into the hills as far as we can, then we’ll have to make the rest of the trip on horseback.”

  “How long will it take?”

  “We’ll have to take the switchbacks up the canyon at about twenty miles per hour, so … twenty or thirty minutes? Then about an hour on horseback, maybe a little more.” He leaned forward to peer out the window at the clouds that piled one on top of each other. While Jace had been talking, they’d changed from gray to an ominous black.

  Bronte felt as if a hand had begun to sque
eze the breath from her body. Ninety minutes? Maybe more?

  “Are the kids going to get caught in the storm?” she asked worriedly, trying to remember what Lily had worn to school that morning. Was she dressed in long sleeves or short, trousers or leggings, a jacket or a sweater? But her mind was whirling with so many thoughts and fears, she couldn’t remember one day from the last.

  Jace draped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. “I know it’s not much comfort, but Barry has been trained to take a jacket and a bedroll if he goes out of sight of the ranch. It was a rule that was established early on, and one he’s been good to follow. Judging by the fact that Lily’s quilt is gone, it sounds to me like he insisted that Lily do the same.”

  Bronte nodded, but with the storm looming overhead, she knew that such precautions would provide minimal protection in bad weather.

  “What if it rains?”

  Jace squeezed her arm. “Hopefully, that doesn’t happen until we find them. But if they left this morning, they’ve got a massive head start on us. The ideal scenario would be for them to have already reached the summer pastures—which is entirely feasible. If they’ve made it to the poppy grove, there’s an old sheepherder’s cabin we use when we move the cows. It’s a sturdy building with a good roof and solid walls. Inside, they have everything they need—matches, some dry wood, a kerosene lantern, and even some basic food supplies.”

  Bronte touched his thigh, needing the solid strength to be found there to ground her.

  “They’ll be okay, Bronte,” Jace said.

  She had no choice but to believe him.

  *

  JUST as Jace had surmised, they reached the end of the service road just shy of the half-hour mark. A large metal gate with a padlock signaled the unofficial end of “civilization,” as Bodey was fond of saying. The land beyond was a mixture of privately owned parcels and those governed by the Forestry Service. A dozen yards away, television and telecommunication towers added a slightly alien quality to a sharp, steep cliff. Beyond that were a series of jagged peaks and shallow valleys thick with pine and aspen.

  This high up, the foliage was lusher, greener than it was in the valley below. Stepping from the truck, Bronte was able to look far, far down to where Bliss appeared like a scattering of children’s blocks against a brown and green crazy quilt of farm fields and pastures.

  She zipped her jacket up to her chin. A chilly, gusting wind had begun to drive the clouds to the east. The air was heavy with moisture and now and again, Bronte felt a stray drop hit her cheek.

  “Do you have a hat?”

  She shook her head.

  Jace reached into the back of his truck, lifting the bench seat to reveal a storage space beneath. He grabbed a baseball-style cap with TAGGART QUARTER HORSES embroidered on the front. He tightened the strap at the back to make it smaller, then closed and locked the door, moving toward her.

  “Here.”

  “I don’t need a—”

  “Wearing something on your head helps to conserve body warmth.” He settled the hat over her hair and pulled it low over her brow. Then, for several long seconds, he studied her with a strange light in his eyes. One that made her feel warm and pretty despite the fact that she shivered in front of him, gripped with an almost overwhelming fear.

  “Besides, you look cute with it on.” His voice dropped, “I like having my name on you. It subtly claims that you’re mine—even if that makes me sound like a caveman.”

  Bronte knew that as a modern woman, she should object to such a statement, but instead, she loved the idea of being claimed by Jace Taggart.

  “How long has it been since you’ve ridden?” Jace asked as he took her hand and led her toward the docile mare that he’d tied to the side of the trailer. Bronte could tell by her sleepy eyes and placid disposition that the animal had been chosen for her calm manner.

  “Too long for me to admit,” Bronte grumbled under her breath.

  Jace checked the fit of her saddle one more time, shortening the stirrups, then tightening the girth. “If that’s the case, I’m going to give you control of the reins, but I’m going to tie the lead to the halter around my pommel. That way, you won’t have to worry about anything but staying on your mount. Snowflake will follow my horse no matter the terrain.”

  “That sounds good.”

  “Up you go.”

  Holding on to the pommel, Bronte hopped slightly as she tried to get her foot into the stirrup. Then she attempted to haul herself into the saddle.

  She’d made it only halfway when Jace planted his hands under her butt, causing her to squeak in surprise. But his boost was enough to help Bronte swing her leg over the broad back of the animal.

  Jace made sure her feet were settled securely into the stirrups and the saddle was perfectly positioned.

  “How’s it feel?”

  “O-okay.”

  “Good girl.” Jace cupped her knee with his broad hand. “I’m going to push us as fast as I think you can handle. But if you feel yourself falling, or something doesn’t seem right, you tell me right away.”

  Bronte nodded, then pushed her nervousness aside. She refused to slow them down.

  “I’m ready.”

  He squeezed her knee one last time in encouragement, then walked around the back of her mount and tied her lead rope firmly to his pommel. “Don’t be afraid to hold on to the horn until you get used to the rhythm of the horse. The only thing that persuades Snowflake to move with any real intensity is a barn and a waiting scoop of oats. If anything, you might need to encourage her to pick up the pace.”

  “Okay.”

  He took the reins of both animals and led them to the gate. It was only then that Bronte noticed that the padlock was for show. The chain had only been looped around the gate rather than firmly fastened.

  Once they were on the other side, Jace closed the gate again and replaced the chain in the same manner. Then he swung onto the horse that he called Greystoke.

  “Ready?”

  She nodded.

  He spurred his own animal into motion. For a split instant, Snowflake refused to move. But then, when the lead rope grew taut, she finally deigned to follow.

  At first, Jace kept the pace to a quick walk, allowing Bronte to get used to riding again. She was secretly grateful. Although she’d briefly ridden behind Jace the night of the meteor shower, she’d forgotten that, alone in the saddle, the ground seemed even farther away.

  A wave of panic shot through her as she had visions of falling, falling. But Bronte forced herself to keep her gaze directly between Snowflake’s ears. In time, she had no real choice but to adapt. Soon, her body began to adjust to the rocking motion of the animal’s gate and her grip on the pommel eased.

  “I’m going to quicken the pace, okay?”

  She nodded, then nearly regretted agreeing with Jace when the horses moved into a jouncing trot. But when she was able to keep her seat, he eased the animals into a lope. The added speed offered her a moment of terror and she reached for the pommel again. But soon, she was able to hold on with only one hand, allowing the other to loosely hold the reins as she’d once been taught.

  Unfortunately, as her fears about staying on the horse eased away, her worry about the children resurfaced. The wind was growing worse, cutting through the padded layers of her jacket. With the heavy clouds, light was fading, and she worried that if the storm hit in earnest, they might be forced to slow their pace.

  It was clear that Jace knew the way. He rode confidently. While she concentrated on the terrain, he was more mindful of the brush, scouring the bushes and trees for any sign of the children. About twenty minutes after they’d begun, Jace drew back on the reins, allowing the horses to rest as he took a pair of binoculars from the pack that held some of their supplies.

  “Any sign of them?”

  “Maybe.” He lowered the glasses. “There’s some trampled underbrush up ahead. Let’s go take a closer look.”

  TWENTY-TWO
r />   BRONTE’S heart knocked against her ribs.

  Please, please let it be a sign of the children.

  As he neared the spot, Jace slowed, then dismounted from his horse altogether. Keeping his reins in one hand, he neared a copse of trees, where he found a long strand of coarse hair that had been snagged by a tree branch.

  Bronte’s heart sank. Lily’s hair was baby fine.

  But when Jace turned to show her, he was grinning. “It’s from a horse’s mane. A quarter horse.”

  “That’s a good sign?”

  “That’s a great sign. With the wind like this, it can’t have been here for long.”

  He was about to get back into the saddle when he paused.

  “What’s wrong?” she whispered.

  “Do you hear that?”

  “What?” she breathed.

  A bear? Moose?

  Bronte couldn’t hear anything but the wind and rustling grass.

  He moved back into the copse of trees, his head cocking slightly as he caught whatever noise had alerted him. Then he bent low, pulling aside the tall grass and laughing softly. When he straightened again, he held up a pair of foil wrappers with colorful cartoons of apples and bananas and strawberries on the front. Bronte instantly recognized it as the same brand of squeeze pouches filled with applesauce that she often gave Lily and Barry to snack on after school. Jace had caught the almost imperceptible sound of them rattling together in the wind.

  “It’s them,” Bronte said eagerly. “That’s got to be from them.”

  Jace grinned. “I’d bet money on it. Ever since you started feeding them to Barry at your house, we’ve been going through an applesauce cycle.” He turned the packet over. “It’s not weathered and …” He unscrewed the lid and squeezed and was rewarded with a small squirt of pink puree. “It’s fresh.”

  A gust of wind threatened to tear the evidence from Jace’s hand, but he jammed the garbage into his pocket.

  “Let’s go.”

  “How much farther?” Bronte asked as he swung back onto his horse.

  He squinted against the gathering gloom. “About ten miles. Maybe more.”

  “Can we make it?”