ERIC SPOTTED THE SHERIFF’S SUV as soon as he crested the hill. The half-dozen horses milling behind the corral fence kicked up dust, dulling the SUV’s white gleam, but even though he was too far away to make out the sheriff department’s emblem on the door, Eric knew who the vehicle belonged to.
It hadn’t been easy making it down off the mountain while avoiding the armed deputies. Fortunately he knew the peaks in this area better than he knew his own heart. If he hadn’t, he never would have been able to work his way into the crevasse to the north of the rock face where Randy died. He never would have been able to make his way down, past the slope where the deputies scoured the mountain through their rifle scopes. He wouldn’t have been able to reach the guide cabin at the base of the mountain and retrieve his truck.
He had gotten away unseen, all right. But it had taken him too long.
He scanned the corrals and outbuildings. Sarah’s pickup sat in front of the house. But other than the horses in the corral, he could see no movement. The Buckrail only employed a foreman and three hands, but every time Eric had visited, the place had been bustling. Now it looked vacant. The big stock trailer was nowhere to be seen.
Where was Sarah?
Eric forced back the urge to push the pedal to the floor and race down the remaining half mile to the ranch. Rushing in like some sort of damn knight would only get him killed, and probably Sarah, too. He had to be smart about his next move. He had to think.
He raised his hand to his throbbing head.
Pulling the truck off the dirt road, he bounced over rough ground to a rock outcropping. He parked out of sight on the far side.
He’d regretted not taking a weapon with him on the climb with Randy. He wouldn’t make that mistake this time. He twisted in his seat.
The rack in the back window of the cab was empty, the locking mechanism broken. His hunting rifle was gone.
Damn, damn, damn. He hadn’t thought to look when he’d reached his truck. He’d just wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible. But he had a good idea of who had taken it. The deputies who’d shot Randy. And he had a bad feeling his rifle was the weapon they’d used.
He gripped the wheel in front of him. He couldn’t think about the implications of that. Not now. The only thing he could afford to focus on was Sarah. He had to make sure she was okay.
He climbed out of the truck, strode to the back and opened the tailgate. There had to be something inside he could use for a weapon. He focused on the tire iron clamped down under the spare. It would have to do.
He released the spare and grabbed the tire iron. Testing the heft in his hand, he circled the red rock and set off in a steady run. He’d approach the house and barns from an angle, instead of straight on. He didn’t have much on his side. He needed surprise.
He set off for the house first. Tufts of rough grass and sagebrush dotted the rocky soil. Still, after the mountain terrain, the short trek was easy. He reached the back of the house without seeing a soul. He didn’t have to peer in the darkened windows to know no one was there. No one seemed to be anywhere. Not even the bark of her Border collie, Radar, broke the stillness.
He needed to check the barn.
Negotiating the maze of wood rail fence, he crossed corrals and circled loafing sheds until he reached the two-story barn. Flies buzzed in his ears. One landed on his forehead. He brushed it away, his hand coming back sticky with drying blood. At least the gush had slowed, but pain still throbbed through his skull.
Pushing the pain away, he wiped his hand on his jeans, climbed the fence and dropped into the corral closest to the barn.
There were few horses in the corrals, and most looked too young to work cattle. Three of the horses gathered around him, nickering and nudging him with their noses. Others pawed the ground and chased one another, jockeying for the best positions in front of the feeders.
The sun was already hovering just above the peaks to the west, its feeble glow quickly being overtaken by the leading edge of storm clouds. Sarah was adamant about her livestock being fed on time. She was never late.
Dust rose into the air thick as fog and whirled in the wind. In front of the barn door, Eric caught a glimpse of black-and-white fur.
Sarah’s dog wouldn’t be far from his mistress. She had to be in the barn. But the fact that Radar wasn’t inside with her had him worried.
He raced across the corral, horses swirling around him. He couldn’t afford to think too hard about what might have already happened to Sarah. He had to stay alert. He was used to testing himself against rock, snow and rough mountain terrain, not a living adversary. Certainly not armed lawmen. He needed to be ready.
Radar spun away from the door and stared at him, one ear pricked.
Eric froze. He knew the dog, but he hadn’t been around for months now. The last thing he needed was for Radar to start barking, tipping off whomever was inside.
Eric raised a hand. Tilting his palm downward, he lowered his hand, gesturing for the dog to lie down the way he’d seen Sarah do countless times.
Radar crouched to the ground. Still watching, he stayed silent.
Blowing a breath through tense lips, Eric scaled the final fence and crept to the barn. The center part of the structure rose to two stories. Each side only contained one, the roofs slanting over stall areas. He stepped to the center door. The deep hum of a male voice came from inside. An inch of space gaped between the sliding door’s two halves. The barn was dark inside. If Eric stood directly in front of the door, or even peered inside, he would block the feeble light. From inside, his presence would be as obvious as if he’d rang a damn doorbell.
He tried to hear over the loud beat of his pulse.
“Where was he headed?”
Eric recognized the low, graveled voice of the sheriff himself.
“What was your brother looking for?”
“I don’t know. He went climbing. That’s all he told me.”
A jumble of emotion spun through Eric’s mind and settled like an ache in his chest. He’d tried to drive Sarah’s strong contralto from his memory. He hadn’t succeeded. But hearing it again, under these circumstances…it was all he could do to keep from throwing the barn door open and rushing in to protect her.
In light of the way things had ended between them, she’d probably find that ironic.
“Who has your brother talked to since he was released?”
“I don’t know. No one, I guess. He’s only got home last night. Did he do something? What is this about?”
“I’m not messing around here, Miss Trask. Eric Lander. You. Who else?”
“I want to talk to a lawyer. I have the right to see a lawyer.”
“Listen,” the sheriff said, his voice getting quiet, controlled in a way that made Eric’s pulse spike. “You have the right to tell me what I want to know, or I’ll have to assume you’re in this as deep as your brother.”
Eric stepped away from the door. He couldn’t stand here and listen any longer. He’d been slow to act to help Randy. Slow to figure out what kind of danger the two of them were in. Slow to believe the deputies were not there to uphold the law. He wasn’t going to make the same mistake again. He needed to find a way inside. He needed some kind of strategy. Some way to take control of the situation before the sheriff could draw his gun. Before he could hurt Sarah.
Think.
He knew the barn’s layout. Hell, he’d helped Sarah feed enough times in their few months together that he should be able to move around the ranch in the dark.
Think.
He pictured the inside of the barn in his mind’s eye. The place was small, only a half-dozen stalls, a wash stall and a good sized tack-and-feed room. Judging from the closeness of the sheriff’s voice, he and Sarah were in the main barn area, not closed off in the tack room. That meant Eric should be able to see them from one of the windows above.
As long as he could get up on the roof without giving himself away.
He circled to the fla
nk of the barn, climbing over fences and dodging demanding horses. Reaching a spot where the roof slanted low, in back of the barn, he focused on the windows used to let natural light into the structure and shoved the tire iron in the back waistband of his jeans. The metal was cold against his skin. Bracing. Its chill sharpened his focus and resolve. He eyed the wood siding. Freshly painted a rich brown, it held few spots to get finger holds, let alone a spot for a toe.
Good thing Eric didn’t need much.
Fitting his fingers into the ridges between the planks, he pulled himself up the siding and grasped the edge of the roof. He pulled himself onto the shingles and scrambled up to the windows under the upper eaves. The windows were locked. Holding his breath, he jimmied the pane up and down and prayed the sheriff wouldn’t hear. The lock popped open. He slid the glass wide and listened for movement from inside the barn.
Below in the corral, horses snorted and whinnied. A cloud of dust plumed on the crest of the hill. Another vehicle heading this way…another sheriff’s department SUV.
A wave of dizziness swept over him. Clamping down on the inside of his lower lip, he concentrated on opening the door without losing his balance. He couldn’t let himself think about all the things that could go wrong. If he wanted to get Sarah out of this mess, he had to focus.
He pushed his head through the open window and looked down into the barn aisle. The scent of wood shavings and manure stuck thick in his throat and tickled his nose.
“Horse accidents are funny things,” the sheriff’s voice boomed from below. “They can happen at any time. To anyone. Even people who work with horses every day.”
“I can’t come up with answers I don’t have.”
Sarah’s voice sounded forceful, but there was a sharp tinge to it Eric knew came from fear. He leaned farther into the barn to get a better angle.
The sheriff stood almost directly below. He reached up to a peg holding a collection of old horseshoes. He grasped one and shook it up and down as if testing its heft. “Something unexpected can happen, spook the horse, and…”
Sarah pressed against the wall of the wash stall. She was a slender woman, all sinew and muscle developed by back-breaking ranch work. But the woman he was looking at was softer than he remembered. More vulnerable. Her hands were behind her back, and when she moved, Eric could see a set of handcuffs bound her to a metal rail.
“No threat. I’m stating fact.” Sheriff Gillette slapped the steel shoe against his palm.
Eric didn’t know what he’d missed while climbing to the loft, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to let this go any further. He pulled the tire iron from the back of his jeans.
The sheriff looked up. He reached for his gun.
Chapter Three
Sarah leaned back on the wash stall wall and lashed out with a foot. She connected with the sheriff’s ankle, the force shuddering through her boot and up her leg.
A shot exploded in her ears.
A body landed on the sheriff, knocking him to the ground. A body…oh, God…Eric.
For a moment, she couldn’t think. She couldn’t breathe.
Eric shoved a forearm under the sheriff’s jaw, bending his head back. He grabbed the sheriff’s gun hand and slammed it against the floor. The gun skittered across the ground. He picked it up, and held it on the sheriff. The side of his face was covered with dried blood. “Get up.”
Sarah’s legs wobbled, weak with relief.
The sheriff struggled to a sitting position, holding his hand to the side of his head. His hat lay in the dust several feet away. “You don’t want to do this, son.”
“No. You’re right. I want to just kill you and take the handcuff key off your dead body. Unless that’s what you want, too, you’d better get the hell up.”
The sheriff struggled to his feet. “What you’re doing here is against the law.”
“Oh, you mean like gunning down a man in cold blood? Or preparing to beat on a shackled woman with a damn horseshoe? Those kinds of against the law?”
The sheriff squinted. “You’re Lander.”
“Keys,” Eric ordered.
Gillette pulled a key ring from his pocket, and Eric snatched it from his fingers.
Eric unlocked one of Sarah’s wrists and handed her the keys. Once she freed herself, he motioned to the sheriff. She slipped the shackles around one fat wrist and slipped the cuff around the steel bars of a nearby stall before securing his second.
She rubbed her sore arms. She couldn’t make sense of any of this. First the sheriff. Now Eric’s sudden appearance. He was supposed to be climbing with Randy.
Barking erupted outside.
Sarah’s mind raced. Someone was here. Layton? Keith and Glenn?
The sheriff glanced over his shoulder and smirked. “Looks like my backup is here. Sure you don’t want to rethink this?”
“Backup?”
“That’s right. You might as well give yourselves up right now. It’ll go easier on you.”
Ignoring Gillette, Eric grabbed her arm. “Hurry.” He pulled her toward the barn’s back door, and they slipped into the corral. Yearlings gathered around them, looking for dinner. Something raced around the side of the barn, a black-and-white streak.
“Radar.”
He headed straight for her. Flying through the air the last few feet, he bounced off her thigh with his front paws and started back the other way, as if he was playing a game.
He was telling her something, that someone was here. “Radar.” The dog’s head snapped around at her serious tone. He bounced back to her side.
Eric pulled her through the gathering horses. “We have to get out of here.”
“What is happening? Where is—”
“We’ll talk later.”
Men’s voices rose from the front of the barn.
“Who’s here?”
“Deputies. And they aren’t here to help.”
He wasn’t making sense. None of this was making any sense. She bit back the questions crowding at the tip of her tongue. “Where do we go?”
“My truck is up by the rocks, but I don’t think we can get there. Not without being spotted.” He spun back to the corral. “Are any of these horses broke to ride?”
She scanned the group of yearlings, stopping on the only older mare in the bunch. “She is.” She led Eric to the mare, Radar following at their heels.
Grabbing a handful of mane, she raised a foot. Eric grabbed her lower leg and boosted her onto the mare’s back. He swung open the gate leading to the pasture.
“Stop. They’re back here.”
Sarah’s throat closed. At first she almost did as he said. Almost dismounted right there and gave herself up. He was a deputy, wasn’t he? She was no criminal. He had to be there to help, didn’t he?
Unlike the sheriff?
She didn’t have to think too hard to remember the threat in the sheriff’s eyes, the brutal tone in his voice, the way he lifted the horseshoe implying he’d use it on her.
“Sarah.” Eric held up an arm, about to swing his leg up.
She looked down at him. Eric was no criminal, either. She was more sure of that than anything. They had to get out of here. She grabbed his arm, and he vaulted into place behind her. She laid her heel into the mare’s side and they broke into a full bore gallop.
THEY’D RACED ALL THE way to the creek before Eric dared take a breath. The mare slowed as she approached the water, breaking to a jog before splashing into the shallow current. Sarah’s dog plunged in behind.
“Follow the river bed,” Eric said.
Sarah directed the horse upstream. Her dark hair whipped in the wind, lashing against his face. “You think they’ll track us?”
“Can’t be too careful.” He was still shaken from the moment he looked down the barrel of the sheriff’s gun, the split second before Sarah’s kick made his shot go wide. “You saved my life back there.”
“I have a feeling you might have saved mine, too.” She turned her head to the si
de, letting her words drift back to him more easily. From this angle he could see the sweep of her eyelashes and the curve of her cheek through her dark cascade of hair. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
“I’d like to, but I don’t really know myself.”
“Where’s Randy?”
He swallowed into a dry throat. He didn’t have the words to tell her. And neither of them had the time. “We need to get moving. I’ll explain things once we put more distance behind us.”
“Where are we going?”
Now that was a damn good question. Obviously they couldn’t call 911. “Our best bet is to get ourselves across the county line. Get out of Gillette’s jurisdiction.”
“This is ridiculous. All of this. This is a nightmare. There must be some kind of mistake.”
“That’s what I’ve been telling myself. Only problem is, the nightmare just keeps going, whether we take control or not. I’ve opted to take control.”
Her chest rose and fell in a deep breath. Finally she nodded. “So we head for the county line.”
The Big Horn Basin was a huge plain rimmed with mountains on all sides. County lines fell along mountain ranges and across open territory. He eyed the mountains to the west. “How long will it take if we go to the east?
“Maybe a couple of days by horse.”
That sounded about right. And with a storm hovering over the mountains bringing rain and maybe even snow, it would take longer if they chose to go to the west. “Any better ideas?”
“Layton lives closer.”
The thought of pulling someone else into this web Randy had tangled them in made Eric feel sick to his stomach. “I don’t know…”
“He’s been the Buckrail’s foreman since before my parents left. He was more of a father to me than my own dad. We can trust him.”
“That’s not my worry.”
“What is?”
He tried to swallow, but his throat wouldn’t cooperate. He didn’t even have to close his eyes to see the way Randy jolted when he took the first bullet. No warning. No way out.
Rocky Mountain Fugitive Page 2
