Rocky Mountain Fugitive

by Ann Voss Peterson

  “Eric? I need to know what’s going on, and I need to know now.”

  He shook his head. Not now. Not until he could look her straight in the eye. Not until she had time to let the tragic news sink in. Not until she had time to cry.

  A sound tickled the horizon, rising over the splash and babble of the stream. Radar froze and pricked his ears.

  “Stop the horse.”

  “Whoa.” Sarah shifted back, her hips settling against Eric’s thighs. The mare stopped in the stream and lowered her head for a drink.

  A growl vibrated low in Radar’s chest.

  Eric strained to hear over the babbling water. It took a second for the sound to register, but once it did, he knew the danger was far from over and their escape far from assured. “Bloodhounds.”

  Sarah tilted her head. “You’re sure?”

  “I wish I could say no. How the hell did they get them to the ranch so quickly?”

  “What do we do?”

  “Keep moving upstream, for one.”

  Sarah clucked, and the mare lifted her head. She broke into a trot, water splashing around them.

  Eric held on to Sarah, a hand on either side of her waist. He didn’t know much about scent-tracking dogs, but he’d heard they could do remarkable things. He was far from sure that a trot upstream would keep the animals from picking up their trail on the other side of the water. Not unless there was something else to draw their attention.

  They continued for another mile, maybe two. The barking grew louder, clearer. One dog. Probably no more. The sound drew out into a half bark, half howl.

  The animal had picked up a scent.

  Sarah turned her head to the side. “Eric?”

  Even though he couldn’t see her expression, he could feel the alarm in her muscles, hear it in her voice. Not that he didn’t have enough of his own. “We need to give the dog something else to track.”

  “Something else? What?”

  “Will Radar go back to the ranch if you order him to?” He wasn’t sure the dog would follow Radar instead of them, but it might be worth a shot.

  She glanced down at the black-and-white Border collie prancing in the stream as if thrilled to be on this grand adventure. “I doubt it. He’s never good about leaving me. He’d probably just double back as soon as he got out of my sight.”

  One idea down. He only had one more. And it wasn’t his first choice by a long shot. “How far to Layton’s house?”

  She glanced around as if taking stock of the landscape. Though with few discernable features nearby other than hills and sagebrush, he wasn’t sure what she was seeing. “Seven miles. Maybe eight.”

  He nodded. Not bad for country where it often took a half hour or more of driving through uninhabited wilderness to get anywhere.

  “He should be home by the time we get there.”

  Better if he wasn’t. That way they could use his phone, borrow supplies or even a vehicle from him and yet manage not to drag him into this mess. “Do you think we can make it that far on foot?”

  “Not before nightfall.”

  He glanced at the last glow of sun beyond the shadow of distant mountains. In this case, darkness would help them. With cloud cover and no sunlight, they might not be able to move very quickly, but neither would their pursuers.

  “I can find the way after dark.”

  Of course she could. She had grown up on this land, and worked it every day of her life. She knew it better than he knew anything, even the mountains. “What do you think of sending the mare back to the ranch?”

  “You’re thinking the tracking dog will keep following her and not us?”

  “Something like that.”

  “She’s getting tired anyway. She’ll probably be glad to be rid of us. And she’ll be glad to be back at the barn before nightfall.”

  At least they had a plan, although the thought of being out in the middle of this vast open country on foot made him more than uneasy. He was used to the vertical wilderness. All this horizontal space made him feel small. And vulnerable.

  He slipped off the horse’s back. The water came to his knees, gurgling and swirling, cold as death. His hiking boots filled with water. His legs ached to the bone. He helped Sarah dismount.

  “Okay, girl. Go back home.” She smacked the horse on the rear and the mare trotted through the stream and up the bank. Once she hit dry land, she broke into a gallop and disappeared in the direction of the barn.

  Sarah turned back to face Eric. Tears sparkled in her eyes and spiked her lashes, but her cheeks remained dry, as if she was fighting for composure. “I need to know what happened, Eric.”

  “We need to make some time. My legs are already going numb.”

  She started trudging upstream. “He was supposed to be climbing with you.”

  He opened his mouth, then closed it. Emotion bombarded him. How on earth could he find the words?

  She didn’t look at him. Instead she wrapped both arms around her stomach and kept moving forward. “Please. I need to know.”

  “He didn’t mean for anything to happen. He just…” A sob lodged in Eric’s throat. He pushed it back, but if he opened his mouth again, he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep the emotion in check. He could feel Sarah watching him.

  “Randy’s dead, isn’t he?”

  Somehow Eric managed to nod.

  “How?” Her voice was quiet, barely a whisper, as if it had taken every ounce of strength in her to say the word.

  Eric fixed his gaze on a clump of big sage about ten feet away from the creek’s bank. As long as he focused on that clump and on trudging forward in the cold water, he might be able to get the words out. “He was shot in order to keep him from reaching Saddle Horn Ridge.”

  “By the sheriff?”

  “By two deputies.”

  He could hear Sarah gasping for breath. She was crying. He could feel her sobs in his own chest, taking over. He could almost smell her tears. He wanted to say soothing words. To touch her. To take her in his arms. Something. But he doubted his touch would be welcome. Besides, one move toward her and he feared he’d crumble.

  They kept walking. Finally she swiped at her eyes and cheeks. “Why?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “What do you think was the reason? Take a flying guess.” The pitch of her voice rose. The mix of anger and fear and need ate away at him like acid.

  He pulled a breath into tight lungs. He had to find a way to explain it. At least the small part he knew. He owed her that much.

  Still careful not to look at her, he told her about the cell mate named Bracco. The mystery Randy was searching for at the top of Saddle Horn Ridge.

  “What’s up there?”

  “Randy didn’t know.”

  “But no doubt he thought it would be an easy score.”

  “He owes someone money.”

  Sarah nodded as if that was all he needed to say.

  Worry over Randy had been what drew him and Sarah together in the first place. After her brother’s fraud conviction, she’d needed to talk to someone who knew him, someone who cared. As an old climbing buddy who’d spent more than a few worried thoughts on Randy Trask, Eric had fit the bill. As they’d spent time together, it had ceased being about Randy. It had been strong and passionate and all-consuming. And finally it had grown to the point where it had ceased being possible. At least for Eric.

  Eric shook his head. It had taken Randy’s death to throw them back together again. Even worse, Randy’s newest scheme had almost gotten them both killed.

  And it was far from over.

  He stared out at the twilight glow on the horizon and kept plunging on. He couldn’t think about Randy. He couldn’t think about what he and Sarah had almost had. Not now. Now he needed all his concentration. He had to focus on one thing—getting Sarah to her foreman’s house, where they could call for help. Because if he couldn’t do that, none of the rest mattered.

  They trudged through the stream bed, water splashi
ng to their knees, rocks slippery under their feet. Radar followed behind. The baying stopped. Shadows lengthened and darkness crept over the land. Finally Eric dared to step out on dry land. He reached out a hand to help Sarah over the rocks and tangle of vegetation.

  She didn’t accept his offer. Once on solid ground, she faced him. “Eric.”

  He willed himself to look at her. Pink rimmed her eyes. Dust and tears streaked her face. But the way she raised her chin and met his gaze made him dread what was coming next. “What?”

  “I want to hire you.”

  He frowned. Not what he expected. Not at all. “Hire me?”

  “I’m going up to Saddle Horn Ridge, and I want you to be my guide.”

  Chapter Four

  For a moment, Eric looked like he was about to clap a hand over Sarah’s mouth and demand she take back what she’d said. “Weren’t you listening?”

  She’d listened. And what she’d heard had her trembling more violently than she had after escaping Sheriff Gillette. But feeling shaken and scared didn’t change the facts. And fear didn’t erase what she needed to do. “I’m going up to Saddle Horn Ridge. I’m going to find out what this is all about.”

  He turned away from her and trudged over the rocky shore and through Russian olive, grass and sagebrush, grown large and thick from the nearby water source.

  Sarah set off after him. Radar trotted beside, glancing from her to Eric like a child caught in the middle of his parents’ argument.

  Parents.

  Sarah fought the urge to clutch an arm over her abdomen. She couldn’t think of that right now. She had enough to deal with in the present. Enough to absorb. Right now all she could focus on was what had happened to Randy and how she and Eric could escape the same fate.

  “I’ve climbed before. I’m in shape.” She resisted the urge to look down at the slight bulge in her belly. If this had happened a month ago, she didn’t know where she would have gotten the energy. The fatigue of early pregnancy had come as a shock. While she’d been ready for the nausea, that bone-deep weariness had nearly flattened her. But her stamina had started to return in the past two weeks. And although she felt drained from the ebb of adrenaline after their escape from the sheriff, she was infinitely more capable than she had been in the first three months of her pregnancy. “I do physical work every day. A little hiking and climbing isn’t going to kill me.”

  “Hiking and climbing? I’m more concerned about flying bullets.”

  “The bullets are just as likely to fly if we run away as they are if we try to find out what’s going on.”

  He looked to the side, as if absorbed in contemplating a tangle of sagebrush.

  “There’s something up there, Eric.”

  “Of course there’s something. Something that got your brother killed. Something that could get you killed, too.”

  “Whatever it is, the sheriff already thinks I know about it. And you…you were there when Randy…” Her throat felt thick. She swallowed and blinked back the mist assaulting her eyes. Her lower lids ached, swollen from squeezing out a seemingly endless flood of tears. She still couldn’t believe this was happening. That it had happened. That they were on the run from a sheriff who wanted to harm them. That her big brother had gone out on a hiking trip and now he was dead. “They know you saw everything.”

  “Which is why I’m not taking you to the ridge. It’s too dangerous.”

  “But if we could find what this is all about, maybe we could use it.”

  “Use it for what?”

  “I don’t know.” Right now what she wanted most was to have Randy back. And no matter what they found on that ridge, that would never be. “To stop the sheriff. To let us return to our lives.”

  “To make Randy’s killers pay?”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  “Nothing. It’s what I want, too. But rushing into the same situation that got your brother killed is not the way to do it.”

  “Then what is?”

  “Getting to Layton’s house. Calling for help.”

  “Who do we call? Not the county 911.”

  “There are other law enforcement agencies. We call one of them. State police. Even the FBI.”

  “And what if they don’t believe us? We can’t run for the rest of our lives.”

  “It’s better than not having a rest of our lives.”

  She shook her head. She wasn’t sure of that. Ranching was the only life she’d ever wanted. The open sky. The freedom she felt on the back of a horse. The strength that came with hard work and autonomy and knowing the land. She didn’t even want to think of a life on the run.

  And Eric. He liked to control things, be in charge. He would gladly be responsible for the world, as long as he had a say. Being on the run, always reacting, never in control…it would kill him. He would never choose that, not if he were choosing for himself. “If you were in this alone, you’d go up on that ridge. You’d find out what this is about.”

  He slowed his stride and glanced back at her. For the first time since she’d brought up the idea of going to the ridge, the hard line of his mouth softened. “But I’m not in this alone.” His voice sounded soft, too. Tender.

  She pulled her gaze away and stared out at the dark forms of rock and sagebrush, growing more sparse the farther they traveled from water. She wanted to turn back time. Go back before Randy was killed, before he’d decided to take his damn hiking trip. Before everything had gotten so terribly broken.

  She knew she was being ridiculous, but she couldn’t help it. Just as she couldn’t stop the yearning to give in to the softness in Eric’s voice. To open herself to him. To pretend trusting him to be there for her was a luxury she could afford.

  She watched him out of the corner of her eye. Even in the dimming twilight, she could see the taut muscles along his jaw, the light stubble, just a shade darker than his sandy brown hair. He still looked like the same Eric, so much that even now she wanted to reach out and skim her fingers along his cheek.

  She’d wondered if Eric had noticed the change in her body as they galloped bareback away from the ranch, his hands around her waist. At one time his heat pressed against her back would have reduced her to a puddle of need. This time, all she could think about was whether he felt the bulge in her tummy. The solid life growing there.

  Did he suspect?

  If things were different, she would have been thrilled to tell him. If they were still together. If he hadn’t left.

  She could still kick herself. The moment she’d uttered the damn M word, she’d wished she could bite it back. It had been a generic reference. Nothing about the two of them getting married. Just a fantasy of a wedding in the little basin behind the ranch house she’d had as a starry-eyed teen. But as soon as the comment had left her lips, she’d seen the look on his face.

  She’d gotten too comfortable. Too trusting. She’d forgotten to be careful and had just said what was on her mind. At least he’d waited until the next day to break it off.

  Radar looked up at her, searching for a way to help. Her dog would stick with her no matter what. Do what she wanted. Follow her anywhere. Men weren’t quite that easy.

  She swallowed into an aching throat. That was all in the past. Dead and done. But focusing on the mistakes she’d made with Eric was easier than thinking too hard about what had happened to Randy or what the future might bring. “If you don’t want to guide me up there, Eric, I can always go alone.”

  He wiped a hand over his face. “You could, but you won’t. We’ll call the state police, the attorney general, the FBI. Report all that’s happened. They can take care of whatever is on that ridge and the sheriff at the same time.”

  Sarah pressed her lips together, her steps slowing, stopping. Fatigue bore down on her shoulders and made her legs heavy. A moment ago, she thought she had the energy to take on anything. Gillette. Eric. The climb to Saddle Horn Ridge. Now she wasn’t so sure.

  She cupped her hand over her abdomen. She
had to think for more than herself. Her life wasn’t the only one she was risking. And as much as she wanted to tell Eric he was wrong about what she would or wouldn’t do, if there was a safer way out, she needed to take it. “Fine. We’ll call.”

  “It’s the right decision, Sarah.” Eric glanced down at her arm. His brows dipped in a frown.

  She let her arm fall to her side and resumed walking. Feeling him watching her, she could only hope he was trying to figure out her change of heart and not mulling over what her protective gesture might mean.

  ERIC DIDN’T HAVE TO ask if Sarah had been serious about climbing to Saddle Horn Ridge on her own. He recognized that jut of her chin, those thrown-back shoulders, that look in her eye as if she was daring anyone to get in her way. She’d do it. And he couldn’t have stopped her if she hadn’t changed her mind. He was both relieved and surprised she’d seen things his way.

  And a little suspicious.

  They trudged toward the light that marked Layton’s place twinkling in the distance. The silvery sheen of sagebrush dotted the path in front of them like bumpers in an old barroom pinball game. Eric could sense wildlife around him, and prayed one of them didn’t step on a rattler yet to descend into his hole for the night. He watched Radar for warning of anything his own senses didn’t pick up.

  But mostly he stole glances at Sarah.

  He’d thought she looked different the moment he saw her in the barn. Softer. More curvy. Even now he wanted to reach out and touch her, pull her into his arms.

  He shook his head. As attractive as he found her, he’d made his decision three months ago. And he knew not letting the connection between them get out of hand was the right one, even now. Sarah couldn’t be part of his life, and he certainly wasn’t up to being part of hers. The emotions tangling inside him were proof of that. It seemed every moment around her was a struggle to keep his head on straight. The scent of her skin. The sound of her voice. The way she made him feel alive just by glancing his way.

  He brought his focus back to the mountains. This was going to be tougher than he’d thought. Not that he’d ever imagined being around Sarah and not touching her would be easy. That was precisely why he’d left after dating for only five months. If he didn’t get out then, he wasn’t getting out.