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Big Sky Showdown
Sharon Dunn


DANGER ON THE MOUNTAINWhen Heather Jacobs climbs a Montana mountain to pay respects to her late father, the last thing she expects is to be running for her life. But she’s living a real-life cat-and-mouse chase, trying to escape a punishing foe from her guide Zane Scofield’s past. How can a California city girl help outwit a ruthless criminal dead set on scouring the wilderness to kill them? Though Zane knows their pursuer and his nefarious motives far too well, he’s not sure why the man is after him now. Only his wits—and an unlikely partner in the determined woman fighting beside him—can save them. But Zane’s also battling a past that’s threatening to swallow him whole…and take Heather along with him.







DANGER ON THE MOUNTAIN

When Heather Jacobs climbs a Montana mountain to pay respects to her late father, the last thing she expects is to be running for her life. But she’s living a real-life cat-and-mouse chase, trying to escape a punishing foe from her guide Zane Scofield’s past. How can a California city girl help outwit a ruthless criminal dead set on scouring the wilderness to kill them? Though Zane knows their pursuer and his nefarious motives far too well, he’s not sure why the man is after him now. Only his wits—and an unlikely partner in the determined woman fighting beside him—can save them. But Zane’s also battling a past that’s threatening to swallow him whole...and take Heather along with him.


“We’ve made it this far. Don’t give up.”

Heather glanced down. The men had slowed their pace.

“The real danger will be at the bottom of the mountain on the other side. They can get around to there with their ATVs faster than we can get down. They’ll be waiting to ambush us.”

She tensed. “When will this stop?”

“We are witnesses, Heather. Willis is not going to let us out of the high country alive.”

Her stomach tightened into a knot.

Zane grabbed her at the elbows and pulled her toward him. The look in his eyes intensified. “I know you want to give up. But hold on. Can you do that for me?”

She nodded, but felt as though her knees would buckle.

He drew her into his arms. “You’re smart and strong. You got me out of that bunker. We can do this.”

His arms enveloped her. She melted into the warmth of his embrace, breathing in the scent of his skin. “I just don’t see how.”


Dear Reader (#u40692a2c-9b55-50c6-8035-bb5e2641aa2d),

I hope you enjoyed going on the wild ride with Zane and Heather as they faced danger together and found a way to each other’s hearts. Big Sky Showdown is more than a love story filled with suspense, though. It is the tale of two fathers and the two men whose lives were changed by their influence. Willis controls Jordan through fear and punishment and the promise of promotion. Stephan transformed Zane’s life by spending time with him and loving him. While it is possible to gain obedience from someone through shaming and fear, only love and grace can change the human heart. Heather’s father was a human being who, before he became a Christian, hurt the people he loved because of his destructive choices. Heather had a great deal of pain because of her father’s legacy and her mother’s bitterness. Even people who love us often hurt us. When I am faced with that reality, I am so grateful that we have a Father who loves us unconditionally, is faithful and keeps His promises.







Ever since she found the Nancy Drew books with the pink covers in her country school library, SHARON DUNN has loved mystery and suspense. Most of her books take place in Montana, where she lives with three nearly grown children and a spastic border collie. She lost her beloved husband of twenty-seven years to cancer in 2014. When she isn’t writing, she loves to hike surrounded by God’s beauty.


Big Sky Showdown

Sharon Dunn






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


How great is the love the Father has lavished on us

that we should be called children of God.

—1 John 3:1


For Susan, Kathy and Jenny, my cheerleaders

and fellow suffering artists. For the inspiration,

the feedback and the accountability.


Contents

Cover (#u172ff9ae-e962-583a-a29e-45f198e5e08b)

Back Cover Text (#u5a9369ff-dadc-5476-a005-edc1e40b7ea0)

Introduction (#u140b3d26-5d5b-5674-82b4-4cb51825df0f)

Dear Reader (#u3f2f9c2a-f4cc-59c4-bee1-63073c583669)

About the Author (#u8931bbea-87f8-5a48-bfec-71a569a3e09f)

Title Page (#u2e1829b1-83bd-5d0f-997b-9cb459971778)

Bible Verse (#u1953055c-84a8-54d6-8d35-a007beb5ebff)

Dedication (#u810a1cf1-233e-5649-9b42-9dce6c26e774)

ONE (#uda2e25cf-4950-5d9f-9b4e-cc87e5a1cf7c)

TWO (#u0e0af26a-6c23-5b09-a85f-bfc33ae630c5)

THREE (#ud7268eee-9c0e-50f6-ace4-9b83b0ddc12f)

FOUR (#uaa2a1567-2bc3-57e8-a2ba-0a44f32cb78e)

FIVE (#u12ef7c26-1604-515f-bdcf-c604a3c5f6c7)

SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)

THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

NINETEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

TWENTY (#litres_trial_promo)

TWENTY-ONE (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


ONE (#u40692a2c-9b55-50c6-8035-bb5e2641aa2d)

Fear skittered across Heather Jacobs’s nerves as half a dozen birds fluttered into the morning sky. Something had spooked them. She gripped the firewood she’d gathered a little tighter. She was alone here. Her guide, Zane Scofield, had taken his rifle, binoculars and hostility and left muttering something about scouting for elk for the next bunch of hunters he would guide into the high country of Montana.

This trip was to take her up to fulfill the last request of the father she barely knew. Five days ago, a certified letter had come to her home in California. Her father’s dying wish was that she spread his ashes in his favorite spot in the Montana mountains and that Zane, the outfitter who had worked for Stephan Jacobs, be the one to guide her to the spot on Angel Peak. Heather hadn’t seen her father since she was five years old. Her memories of him were faint. Her mother, who had died over a year ago, had never had anything nice to say about her ex-husband.

A brushing sound behind her caused Heather to whirl around. The logs she held rolled from her arms. Her heartbeat revved up a notch. The hairs on the back of her neck stood at attention. She sensed another being nearby.

What kinds of wild animals lurked in the forest?

Now she really wished Zane was closer. He knew how to deal with wildlife. Even if they’d been on each other’s nerves since they left Fort Madison two days ago, she at least felt physically safe when he was around.

She stood as still as a statue, listening to the sound of the creaking trees and the drumming of her pulse in her ears.

Taking in a breath, she leaned over to pick up the firewood she’d dropped. Again, she heard what sounded like something moving toward her. She straightened, her gaze darting everywhere. Adrenaline charged through her, commanding her to run.

The smart thing to do would be to head back to the safety of the fire and camp and maybe even find Zane. A flash of something neon yellow caught her eye. Not a color that occurred in nature. Her heart skipped a beat. Whatever was out there was human. For a moment, she found that reassuring. Better a human than a wild animal. But then apprehension returned. Just who was out here, and why did they seem to be following her?

She saw blond hair for a quick second. A yelp as though someone were in pain filled the forest. The cry sounded childlike. Concerned, she ran toward where she’d seen the movement. Crashing noises up ahead alerted her as another moan of pain filled the forest.

Was a child hurt? Afraid?

She sprinted in the general direction of the noises, running around the trees and ducking out of the way of low-hanging branches. She saw the flash of blond again, a boy. More than ten years old, she would guess—but not by much. Perhaps twelve or thirteen.

She caught only fleeting glimpses of the child in the early-morning light.

She came into a clearing as silence descended once again. Her heartbeat drummed in her ears. She pivoted one way and then the other, searching.

“Please come out. I won’t hurt you.” The thought of a child in distress made her chest tight. What if he was lost and separated from his family?

She caught movement and heard footsteps to the side of her. She turned, expecting to see the blond boy. Instead, an older, darker-haired teenager emerged from the trees with a knife raised above his head and teeth bared. Terror swept over her like a wave.

She turned and bolted away. She may not be used to this environment, but her work as a personal trainer meant she was in top athletic condition. She could outrun the violence that pursued her.

The blond boy emerged from the other side of the forest, also wielding a knife. He wasn’t injured. She’d been tricked into going deeper into the forest by these two. But why? What did they want from her?

They gave her little choice as to what direction she could run. She turned sharply and sprinted, willing her legs to move faster. Her heart pounded against her rib cage as she increased her speed.

She glanced over her shoulder. The boys gained on her by only a few yards. She ran faster. She could run all day if she had to.

The trees thinned.

Her foot slipped as the ground beneath her gave way. She found herself twirling through space and colliding with the hard earth as she landed on her back. She stared up at the blue sky and swaying tree boughs. With the wind knocked out of her, it took her a moment to comprehend that she’d fallen in a deep hole that had been camouflaged with brush and evergreen branches.

Her eyes traced over the twenty feet of dirt wall on either side of her that held her prisoner. She tilted her head to where the sunlight sneaked through the trees.

A grinning face appeared overhead, blond hair wild and uncombed. The child looked almost feral. They’d forced her in this direction so she’d fall in the hole.

Fear snaked around her torso and caused her to shiver. Now that she was their prisoner, what did they intend to do to her?

The blond boy shook his head, still smiling, pleased with himself. He formed a gun with his fingers, aimed it at her and mimed pulling the trigger. She winced against such a dark action from someone so young.

The older, darker-haired boy popped his head over the edge of the hole. He high-fived the younger kid.

“Dude, we’re so going to get extra rations for this,” said the older boy.

The blond boy continued to grin as he gazed down at her. “Maybe even a promotion.”

“You stay here and guard her,” said the older boy. “I’ll head up to the patrol station so they can radio it in to base camp.”

Patrol? Base camp? That sounded like they were part of an organized group. That meant more were coming, and they probably weren’t boys. A chill enveloped Heather that had nothing to do with the crisp fall morning. She wasn’t rich or famous—they couldn’t hope to hold her for ransom. But the other possibilities for why they would want to kidnap her made blood freeze in her veins.

The older boy disappeared as suddenly as he’d appeared. The blond boy wiped his knife on his pants and stepped away as well. She could hear him above her pacing back and forth, breaking twigs beneath his feet.

Heart racing, she stared up the slick, steep walls. If she could get out, she should be able to overtake or outrun the blond boy. She needed to hurry before the others got here. She positioned her foot in the side of the dirt wall and tried to climb. She slipped. There was nothing to hold on to but moist earth.

The boy popped his head over the edge of the hole again. “You can’t get out, lady. Don’t even try.”

“Why are you doing this?”

He sneered at her in a sinister way. Her heart seized up.

She was trapped. Her only hope was that Zane would get back to camp soon, see that she wasn’t there and come looking for her. That was a thin hope at best.

* * *

Zane Scofield stared through his high-powered binoculars, scanning the hills and mountains all around him. He did need to scout for elk for future trips, but he also had to get away from Heather before he lost it. Just the thought of her made him grit his teeth.

Most of what Heather knew about her father had come through the bitter lens of her mother who had left a drunk in Montana twenty years ago. That was not the Stephan Jacobs whom Zane had come to know seven years ago. The Stephan whom Zane had worked for and been a friend to had been sober and loved God with all his heart.

When Heather had shown up at Big Sky Outfitters, dressed simply in jeans and a sweater, he had wondered what such a beautiful woman was doing on his doorstep. Then of course, she’d ruined that good first impression by talking down the man who had saved Zane’s life in more ways than one.

There was no reply Zane could make to her snide comments, wondering why Stephan had left Big Sky Outfitters to her when he’d supposedly “never cared” about her anyway. Zane was sure that wasn’t the truth—but he couldn’t contradict her when he didn’t know the whole story. Men like Stephan were not in the habit of sharing their pain. Zane suspected that a twenty-year estrangement from a daughter was one of those wounds that never healed. Maybe that’s why the older man had never mentioned her.

And to make things worse, she’d told him that she intended to sell the business to a competitor, who Zane knew cared more about making money than sharing the beauty of God’s creation with people. Stephan’s legacy would be marred by a man like Dennis Havre.

Zane wanted to honor Stephan’s dying wishes to bring his daughter to the chosen spot to scatter the ashes because the man had meant so much to him, but being with Heather for three more days might be his undoing.

He’d also come up to this vantage point for another reason. For the last day or so, he’d had the strange sense that they were being watched. Bow-hunting season didn’t open up for a couple more weeks, so only extreme backpackers and men on scouting expeditions were likely to be up in the high country this time of year. So who had been stalking them and why?

He saw movement through his binoculars and focused in. Several ATVs were headed down the mountain toward the campsite where he’d left Heather alone. The speed at which they moved, like they knew where the camp was, set alarm bells off for Zane. He zeroed in on one of the ATVs and saw the handmade flag flying on the back end of it. He knew that flag. His mind was sucked back in time seven years ago to when he had lived in these mountains as a scared seventeen-year-old. If this was who he thought it was, Heather was in danger.

He jumped up from his concealed position and bolted down the steep incline. A thunderstorm of emotion brewed inside him. If he hadn’t met Stephan when he did, his life could have gone in a much different direction, and those ATVs reminded him of everything he’d left behind.

Seven years ago, Zane and his brother, Jordan, had escaped foster care and been taken in by a man named Willis Drake. Willis saw a conspiracy around every corner and thought being armed to the teeth and living in the forest would keep him and his followers safe.

At first, Willis had seemed like the father Zane had longed for, teaching him how to shoot and how to live in the wild. If he hadn’t taken the job with Stephan, he would have continued to idolize Willis and buy into his crazy theories.

Once authorities tried to catch Willis doing something illegal, Willis and his followers left the area. That had been nearly seven years ago. Now it looked like he might be back. That was frightening enough on its own. But for Willis and his gang to be headed toward where Heather was... That was downright terrifying. He had to keep her safe from that lawless group.

He raced down from his high spot and rushed through the trees to the open area of camp. The fire was burned down to nothing more than hot coals. Both pack mules were still tethered to trees. Heather was gone. Pushing away the rising panic, he sprinted toward a different part of the forest where he had directed her to find firewood. He spotted several logs together as though they’d been dropped.

He could hear the ATVs drawing closer, but not coming directly into the camp. They were headed a little deeper into the forest. He ran toward the mechanical sound, pushing past the rising fear.

He called for Heather only once. He stopped to listen.

He heard her call back—faint and far away, repeating his name. He ran in the direction of the sound with his rifle still slung over his shoulder. When he came to the clearing, he saw a boy not yet in his teens throwing rocks into a hole and screaming, “Shut up. Be quiet.”

Zane held his rifle up toward the boy. He could never shoot a child, but maybe the threat would be enough.

The kid grew wide-eyed and snarled at him. “More men are coming. So there.” Then the boy darted into the forest, yelling behind him, “You won’t get away.”

Zane ran over to the hole. Heather gazed up at him, relief spreading across her face.

Voices now drifted through the trees, men on foot headed this way.

Zane grabbed an evergreen bough and stuck it in the hole for Heather to grip. She climbed agilely and quickly. He grabbed her hand and pulled her the rest of the way out. “We have to get out of here.”

There was no time to explain the full situation to her, but he tasted bile every time he thought about what might be going on. His worst nightmare coming true, his past reaching out to grab him by the feet and pull him into a deep dark hole. The past he thought he’d escaped.

He led Heather through the trees back to the camp where the mules were tied up. They mounted and took off, bolting for the trail just as several men burst into the camp on foot. One of them lifted his handgun and aimed it at them but didn’t fire. “Stop right there.”

Zane spurred his mule into a trot and Heather fell in beside him.

He had no idea why Heather had been targeted by Willis. He only knew one thing. If Willis was back in the high country, no good could come of staying here. He needed to get Heather to safety and fast. He knew what Willis was capable of. Their lives depended on getting out of the high country.


TWO (#u40692a2c-9b55-50c6-8035-bb5e2641aa2d)

Heather’s thoughts raced a hundred miles an hour as the trail narrowed and grew steeper. Confusion and fear battled within her. What was going on? Who were those men? And where were they going? Zane had told her this morning that they were only half a day away from where she could spread her father’s ashes, and now it looked like they were headed back into town, back to Fort Madison.

He dropped back and allowed Heather to go ahead of him on the trail as it became too narrow to ride side by side. Though they slowed down when the terrain became more dangerous, the mules traversed the steep inclines and switchbacks with ease. Above them was rocky mountainside. Below, the trail dropped off at nearly ninety degrees.

She tightened the reins to stop Clarence, her mule, and craned her neck looking past Zane at the trail behind them. The men had not followed them.

Zane drew his eyebrows together. “Keep moving, Heather.” Panic tainted his words.

He seemed to know more than he was letting on.

“They didn’t follow us,” she said, but she turned back to face the trail ahead of her and nudged Clarence to start moving again. It would be nuts to think of going to Angel Peak knowing that there were crazy men like that up here. Still, she felt a sense of defeat that they’d had to turn back when they were so close to their goal. She’d been on an emotional roller coaster since she’d learned of her father’s dying wishes. On some level, she’d come to Montana looking for answers. If Stephan—she couldn’t bring herself to call him Dad—had loved her enough to leave her everything, why hadn’t he gotten in touch with her when he was alive? She wanted to be a good daughter even if he hadn’t been a good father, but she wanted this trip to be over so she could sell Big Sky Outfitters and return to her life in California.

Clarence lumbered along.

“Make him go faster. Just because we don’t see them doesn’t mean they’ve given up,” Zane said.

After she kicked Clarence with her heels to get him going, she shouted over her shoulder, “You seem to know who these men are.” Maybe there had been local news stories she wasn’t privy to?

“I’ll explain later. Just go. Keep moving.” The sense of urgency never left his voice.

Heather glanced up the rocky incline as a rumble turned into a roar. Rocks from above them cascaded down the mountain like a waterfall. An avalanche of rocks was coming straight toward her. She spurred Clarence to go faster. Her chest squeezed tight with terror and all the air left her lungs. Rocks crashed against each other. A tremendous thundering noise surrounded her.

Clarence backed up then bucked. She slid off, falling not just off the mule but off the path altogether, tumbling down the side of the mountain. The crashing was all around her as rocks pelted her legs and arms.

Finally, her body came to a stop. The dust settled. She stared up at blue sky, trying to take in what had just happened. The mules brayed on the trail above her but didn’t run. A heavy weight pressed on her leg. The rest of her body felt sore and bruised.

Zane made his way down to her, pulling rocks off her leg where she was trapped. His voice was filled with concern when he asked, “Can you move it?”

Still stunned, she wiggled her foot. “I think I’m just a little beat up.”

He reached out a hand for her. “They caused the avalanche to block the trail. I saw more men up there.” He pulled her to her feet.

So the rockslide hadn’t been an accident.

“There’s no time to clear it. I’m sure they’ll be coming down after us. We’ll get back to Fort Madison another way.” So Zane’s plan was to take her back to town. He climbed up over the rocks then craned his neck back down at her.

Heather moved to follow him but the pain from the bruising slowed her.

“Hurry.” He climbed back up to where the mules stood.

Still a little shaken, she followed. No way could the same men who had come for them in camp have gotten ahead of them on the trail. That meant there must be even more of them chasing Zane and her. She could not process what was happening.

Zane turned his mule around on the narrow trail and then helped her get Clarence faced downward, as well. The mules were calm again. She stared back down the trail. Were they headed into a trap? Those other men who had come after them in the camp must still be around.

Her gaze traveled up the steep incline where the rockslide had started, but she saw no movement or any sign of people. She and Zane hurried down the trail and through flatter open country. Every now and then, she glanced over her shoulder, expecting to see men behind her. Nothing. And yet, Zane pushed on.

They rode for several more hours, slowing down as the mules fatigued.

Then, for no reason Heather could tell, Zane sat up straighter in the saddle. His hand brushed over the holster that held his pistol.

The action sent a new wave of terror through her. What was he sensing that she didn’t pick up on?

He spurred his mule, but the animal continued to plod along.

“They need to rest,” she said.

A strange popping sound shattered the silence. Zane’s mule’s front legs buckled. Heather’s heart filled with horror as the animal collapsed on the ground. The mule had been shot through the head.

* * *

“Dismount. You’re an easy target,” Zane shouted at her. He dragged his legs out from under the dead animal and pulled out his pistol. He needed to keep Heather safe, out of the gun battle that was about to take place.

Heather shook her head. She stayed mounted on a frightened Clarence, who stepped side to side jerking his head anxiously. Heather’s gaze was fixed on the dead mule. Shock must be setting in for her. He had to pull her from the paralysis before she became unable to make life-saving decisions or follow his orders.

“Get down then. Get off of there.” He turned in a half circle, watching the trees, using his skills to pick apart each section, probing for movement.

She slipped out of her saddle and pressed in close to him. “What’s going on?” Her voice trembled.

Zane surveyed the landscape. “The shooter is probably getting into position to line up another shot. That gives us a minute.” And a chance at escape. He glanced at Clarence, debating his options. They might be a target if they got back on him. But the mule would give them speed.

Another rifle shot penetrated the forest close to Clarence. The mule whinnied and took off at a gallop, crashing through the trees. At least he hadn’t been killed, but the shooter had taken out their best chance to get away fast.

Another shot shattered the air around them. The percussive noise beat against his eardrums and made his heart pound. The bullet stirred up the ground around Heather. She gasped and moved closer to him.

Zane grabbed Heather’s hand and pulled her toward the brush for cover. “Run,” he ordered her.

Though he saw nothing when he looked over his shoulder, he could detect the human noises behind them, heavy footfalls and the rustle of tree boughs being pushed out of the way. The shooter was on the move, coming after them.

He let go of her hand so they could both run faster. His feet pounded over the pine-needle-laden ground.

They ran for a long time without stopping. Heather kept up a steady pace. He had to hand it to her. Even after the bruising she’d suffered in the rockslide, the woman could run.

He lagged behind then slowed his pace to catch his breath. “I think we lost him.”

She stopped to listen, tilting her head. Then her gaze fell on him. “Who are these men?” Her eyes seemed to look right through him. “You know who they are, don’t you?”

A heaviness pressed on his shoulders and chest. How could he begin to explain? He narrowed his eyes at Heather. He barely knew her. What if they were after Heather for some reason? She was the one they’d tried to take captive.

Some distance away, a human voice yelped as though the man had run into something. Zane’s muscles tensed as he peered over his shoulder.

He saw Heather’s eyes grow wide with fear, and then she started sprinting down the trail, with Zane following on her heels. She jumped over a tree that had fallen across the path. Zane hurried to catch up with her.

He heard a noise to the side of him. Two muscular young men jumped out of the trees. One grabbed Zane’s hands before he could react. The other placed a hood over his head and pulled Zane’s pistol out of the holster. Zane twisted from side to side trying to get away.

The last noise he heard was Heather’s scream.


THREE (#u40692a2c-9b55-50c6-8035-bb5e2641aa2d)

Stunned and afraid, Heather watched as the men dragged Zane deeper into the forest. She rushed to get back over the log, determined to free him.

A third man appeared from out of the trees and came charging toward her. She had no choice but to run the other way.

The horror of seeing Zane taken captive plagued her as she sprinted off the trail and into the forest. Running hard, she pushed through the tangle of trees. Despite her speed, her feet hit the ground with precision as she chose her steps over the varied terrain. Her pursuer stayed within yards of her but never gained on her. She looped back around to the trail where it would be easier to put some distance between herself and the man.

She bolted up the trail, running for at least twenty minutes before she looked over her shoulder and saw no one. The man had given up. She slowed to a jog. Now that she was safe, her only thought was to help Zane.

Aware that another pursuer might be lying in wait, she stumbled toward where she’d seen the young men drag Zane. There were at least three men, two that had taken Zane and one who had come after her. Even if one of them had been the shooter, what about the other men and boys they’d seen? Just how many people were after them? With each turn in the trail, she feared she’d be caught in another violent encounter.

But after wandering for what seemed like ages, she was less worried about a confrontation and more worried about never finding anyone at all. All the trees along the trail looked the same. If she could find the log that had fallen across the trail, she might be able to figure out where Zane had been taken. But she did not know these woods. Zane was the navigator.

A heaviness descended on her. Zane could be miles from here by now, or worse...he could be dead. Her stomach knotted at the thought. She wiped it from her mind. Giving in to fear would only make things harder.

She pushed off the tree and jogged out to the path. If she worked her way back to the clearing where Zane’s mule was shot, she might be able to retrace her steps to where Zane had been taken.

As she followed the trail, she fought against the images that threatened to make her shut down. Pictures of Zane shot and left for dead played through her mind.

She stumbled into the clearing where the dead mule still lay. Her stomach roiled at the sight, and she thought she might vomit. She whirled away, but not before she noticed that the saddlebags and Zane’s rifle had been taken.

Turning in a half circle, she wondered if she was being watched. Her own intense heartbeat drummed in her ears.

At least from here, she thought she could find her way back to the fallen log. The memory of fleeing after the shots were fired was blurred by trauma. All the same, she took off in the general direction she remembered going. She’d gone only a short distance when she heard a crashing noise to the side of her. Scrambling to find cover, she slipped behind a tree. Heather pressed her back against the rough bark as her heart thudded at breakneck pace.

She held her breath. The noise of someone moving toward her intensified. Her muscles tensed. The forest fell silent. She waited. Then she heard a familiar clomp clomp clomp.

Heather almost laughed as she raised her head. Clarence stood on the path. He jerked his head at her. The metal on his bridle jangled.

“Hello, old friend.” She rose to her feet. The saddlebags were askew, but still intact. She opened one and took out the little wooden box that contained her father’s ashes. She placed it in the inside pocket of her coat where it pressed against her stomach so she could feel that it was safe. She had been only a short time away from closing this chapter of her life. So much had changed so quickly. Tears welled up. Why had her father wanted her to come back to Montana anyway? She wiped her eyes.

Come on, Heather, pull it together.

Her eyes were drawn to a bloody gash on Clarence’s neck. The mule sidestepped when she placed her hand near the injury. She couldn’t discern the cause of the wound. It could be a bullet had grazed him, or maybe he’d scraped it on some brush. She straightened the saddlebags and placed her foot in the stirrup. Heather rode a short way when she saw smoke rising off in the distance. A camp.

She spurred Clarence to go faster.

Once they’d gotten close, she slipped off Clarence’s back. It could be another hunters’ camp doing some scouting or it could be where Zane was being held. Or the men who had been after them might be there without Zane. It could be a chance for help or she could be stepping into danger. Either way, she had to find out.

She let the reins fall to the ground, opting not to tie Clarence up. At least if she did not come back, the mule would be able to find his way back to civilization. And not coming back was a high probability.

She pressed her boots lightly on the crunchy snow, moving toward the rising smoke. Before she even arrived at the camp, she heard voices. Though she couldn’t discern the words, it was clear a heated discussion was taking place. She slowed her pace even more, choosing where she stepped carefully. The scent of wood smoke filled the air. The argument stopped and the voices fell silent.

Flashes of color and movement caught her attention. She sank to the ground to take in the scene. Though the trees obscured some of her view, she caught a glimpse of a young man pacing, the hue of his greasy light blue coat distinctive enough to separate him from the forest colors.

Her throat constricted with fear. She recognized him as one of the men who had taken Zane. And there was another boy there, too, though she couldn’t see him—she just heard the sound of his voice, mingled with the static of a radio transmitting.

The young man in the blue coat was clearly distressed, hunched, moving in an erratic pattern and slapping his forehead with his hands. She shifted her position, hoping to spot Zane.

Bluecoat tossed another log on the fire and stood close to it. At first, she thought the man had on red gloves, but then she saw that his hands were red from the cold. His tennis shoes probably didn’t do much to keep the autumn chill out either.

Bluecoat turned and spoke to a spot that was just outside of Heather’s field of vision. “What did he say?”

The other boy replied. “He doesn’t trust us to bring him in. He’s sending Mason and Long to come and get him. He’s mad we didn’t get the girl.”

Heather breathed a sigh of relief. They had to be talking about Zane. And from what they’d said, it sounded as if Zane was still alive. And even better, it looked like there were only two young men guarding him for now. The third one, the one who had chased her, must have taken off.

Bluecoat threw up his hands. “Oh, sure, and then they get all the credit. While we have to go back out on patrol.”

“You know what Willis says. You gotta earn it.” The second kid stepped closer to the fire. He was taller than Bluecoat, though just as ragged looking in a tattered brown parka and worn combat boots. At least he had some gloves. Heather guessed he might be eighteen or nineteen years old. “They’ll be down here in seven to ten minutes.”

Heather moved in a little closer. Her foot cracked a twig. Both boys stiffened, stepped away from the fire and glanced around nervously.

Though she was in an uncomfortable position, she tucked her arms close to her body and didn’t move. Her heart beat so loudly, she was afraid it would give her away. Her front foot strained to maintain balance.

Both boys skirted the camp, searching the area before returning to the fire.

Heather exhaled. She waited until they started talking again before she crept in a circle around their camp trying to find Zane. She hurried from tree to tree to remain hidden.

“How long before they get here?” Bluecoat stepped even closer to the fire.

“A few minutes. I told you that. They’re coming on the ATVs to haul him up,” said Browncoat.

Both young men had handguns in holsters fastened to their belts. She recognized Zane’s pistol on the second man. She edged a little closer, finally spotting Zane far from the fire. The pillowcase was still on his head. His hands were tied behind his back. He wasn’t slumped over, which she hoped meant that he was conscious.

She moved farther away from the center of the camp and then circled around to where Zane was. The rumble of the ATVs filled the air. Still some distance away, but she knew she didn’t have much time.

She scooted through the evergreens until she was lined up with the tree where Zane was tied. Each time she took a step forward, she waited until the conversation intensified to cover the sound of her movement.

Her eyes fixated on Zane’s hands where they were bound behind the narrow trunk of a lodgepole pine. Crouching, she positioned herself so most of her body was hidden behind Zane.

Zane must have sensed something was up because his head jerked. The action was enough to cause the conversation between the two men to trail off. She pressed her belly against the ground, shielding herself behind Zane.

She squeezed her eyes shut as the footsteps came toward them. Her heart pounded out a wild rhythm. The footsteps stopped several feet away. She assumed the guard was scanning the area, though she wasn’t bold enough to sit up and check. After a few moments he walked away, and then the conversation resumed.

She brushed her hand over Zane’s, hoping he would understand. He gave her a thumbs-up. She pulled her pocketknife from her jeans’ pocket and cut him free.

The roar of the ATVs pressed on her ears. More voices carried through the trees after the engines died. Two more men entered the camp. All the men were facing away from Zane. Now was their chance for escape.

* * *

Zane reached up and tore off the hood, taking no more than an instant to orient himself before he turned and slipped into the trees with Heather.

He breathed a prayer of thanks that Heather had been so smart and brave in breaking him free.

Adrenaline kicked into high gear as he jumped to his feet and sprinted alongside her. Behind him, shouting and protest rose up. Then a single wild gunshot echoed through the trees.

“Don’t kill them!” one of the men ordered. “Willis wants them alive.”

Zane caught up with her as they raced toward an open area. The ATVs roared to life. They needed to get to terrain where the machines couldn’t follow them. She glanced around.

He pointed toward a rocky incline. She hurried after him just as one of the ATVs burst through the trees. Another bullet whizzed past his ear. They slipped behind a rock and pressed low to the ground. Killing them might not be an option, but wounding them must still be on the table. Zane and Heather pushed themselves upward, using the larger rocks for cover.

They rushed toward the top of the incline. When he glanced down over his shoulder, he saw that one of the men had a high-powered rifle. It was pointed right at him—but before the sniper could take the shot, they reached the ridgeline and headed down the other side.

They sprinted down the grassy side of the hill until they entered a cluster of trees.

Both of them gasped for breath.

Zane ran his hand through his hair and paced as adrenaline coursed through him. “We need to get out of here. It’s just a matter of minutes before they catch up with us.”

“Who are those guys and why did they kidnap you?”

Her question felt like a weight on his chest. She’d saved his life. He owed her an explanation, but there was no time for that now. “The trail on up the mountain is blocked by the rockslide, so we’ll have to go by way of the river.”

He didn’t wait for her to respond. Instead, he turned and bolted through the trees. If she wanted to stay alive, she’d follow him. She’d already proven she had good survival skills.

The landscape bounced in front of him as he kept pace with Heather.

The sound of the ATVs grew louder then died out and then intensified again. Heather and Zane entered a wide meadow. An ATV emerged from the opposite side of the meadow. Its rider came to a stop and yanked a rifle from a holder attached to the ATV.

Zane grabbed her and pulled her toward the thick evergreens. The first rifle shot stirred the ground up in front of her feet. She jumped back. Zane tugged on her sleeve. Both of them dived toward the shelter of the heavy brush as the sound of more ATV engines filled the forest. The mechanical roar pressed on him from every side. He wasn’t sure which way to go to get away. Were they being surrounded?

Zane hesitated for only a moment before choosing a path. They scrambled downward through the trees. The steep path they were on couldn’t be called a trail, which would make it that much harder to be followed. The noise of the ATVs died out again. Though he doubted the pursuers had given up.

They jogged until they were both out of breath and needed to stop.

A sense of urgency pressed in on Zane as he pointed off in the distance. “We need to go to the river and get across that bridge. We don’t have much time before they catch up with us.”

Looking over to the side, he saw where the ATVs snaked down a distant hill. Far enough away for now—but closing in, faster than he and Heather could possibly move on foot.

“How are you going to get to the river? We can’t outrun them.” Her voice trembled with panic.

As if on cue, a braying noise alerted both of them as Clarence entered the flat area where they stood.

“Looks like our ride’s here.” Heather hurried over and patted Clarence’s neck. “I found him earlier. I’m starting to really like this old mule.”

“They always find their way back,” Zane said. “Let’s drop some of this weight.” He reached for the saddlebags.

He pulled a few essential items out and stuffed them into his pockets before yanking the bags off the mule and tossing them on the ground. “We’d better hurry.”

A moment later, the sound of the ATVs engines clanging filled the forest around them growing louder and closer. He mounted Clarence and reached out a hand for her to get on behind him. Zane spurred Clarence into a trot. The animal was surefooted enough on the rough terrain that he was able to keep a steady pace. But would be fast enough for them to get away?

* * *

Heather wrapped her arms around Zane’s waist and pressed close to him. She buried her face in his shoulder-length hair, melting into the warmth of his back. The solid shape of the box that held her father’s ashes pushed against her stomach. Until that moment, she’d almost forgotten it was there. Saying goodbye to the father she never knew and finding some closure seemed like the furthest thing from her mind.

They needed to get off this mountain alive. Judging from how ragged and dirty the men and boys all looked, they must live up in the mountains for extended periods. That meant they knew how to survive in the harshness of the high country.

The rushing roar of the river greeted her ears even before she saw the cold gray water and the bridge.

Zane turned his head slightly. “Dismount. We’ll lead Clarence across. You go in front of me.”

She slid off the mule. The bridge was primitive; the railings were made of narrow but strong cording. The bottom was fashioned from logs bound together with the same cording, stretching across the wide rushing water, connected at either end to sturdy trees. It swayed when she stepped on it. She steadied herself by grabbing the rope railing. Zane fell in behind her, leading Clarence, who hesitated only a moment before he stepped on the unsteady structure.

The ATV noises stopped nearby. The shouts and cries of men out for violence filled the forest. Before long, two of the men emerged through the trees. One of them drew a handgun and shot. The shot went wild. All the same, the gunfire made her stutter in her step.

“Keep going,” Zane urged, and he peered over his shoulder.

They were halfway across the bridge.

She couldn’t see around him or the mule on the narrow bridge but the look on his face when he turned back around indicated that something had alarmed him.

“What is it?”

“Hurry! The men started to cross and backed up.”

Then she heard it—an awful creaking. The bridge swayed. It was unstable and about to break.

They couldn’t go back.

She lost her balance and buckled to one knee. Heart racing, she pulled herself to her feet and stepped as fast as she dared across the uneven logs. The bridge swayed even more and creaked in a new way. She could see the other side of the river. Solid ground was only twenty feet away.

Trying to maintain her balance, she put one foot in front of the other and gripped the rope railing.

A louder creak filled the air. She caught a glimpse of the rushing water down below, dark and cold. The bridge went slack. And then she felt her body slipping backward and down. Her hand flailed, struggling to find something to hold on to.

She grasped only air as her body plunged into the depths of the freezing water.


FOUR (#u40692a2c-9b55-50c6-8035-bb5e2641aa2d)

Zane grabbed hold of the rope remnants of the bridge as he drifted downstream. Clarence’s body rammed into his and then floated away as the animal struggled to keep its head above water. He saw a flash of Heather’s jacket, and then she disappeared beneath the freezing water. His heart squeezed tight, and he waited for her to resurface.

A bullet whizzed past his head. He switched focus to the men—boys, really, no more than teenagers—on the shoreline. The first boy grabbed the gun from the second one, probably not wanting to risk Zane being killed since the orders were for them to be taken in alive.

Zane let go of the piece of tattered bridge as the current pulled him along. There was no more sign of Heather.

Twice, the force of the water pushed him under.

The young men ran along the bank, keeping him in sight. Zane couldn’t see Clarence anywhere, but hoped that the mule had managed to reach land—something Zane now needed to do for himself. He swam hard to get to the far bank. That bridge had been the only way across the water for miles. The young men on the shore slowed down as the current carried him along even faster.

Though he couldn’t see her, he refused to believe Heather had drowned. She had proved she was a competent athlete.

He knew he had only minutes in the freezing water before hypothermia set in. The current pushed him back toward the closer shore where the pursuers were. He and Heather really needed to get across this river. He rounded a bend. The young men with guns grew smaller then disappeared from view. He felt a rush of relief when he saw Heather up ahead crawling up on a log that had fallen half way across the stream. She had almost reached land, but not on the far shore that would allow them to get back to town. If he followed her, they’d still be trapped on the wrong side of the river. All the same, he was elated to see she had made it out.

He swam through the water, trying to maneuver toward her. She noticed him and worked her way back to the end of the log and held out a hand. She grabbed him by the back of the collar as he drifted by. He angled his torso and braced himself with one of the heavier limbs on the fallen tree as water suctioned around him. She reached out an ice-cold hand and helped him up on the log.

Both of them were soaked and shivering, but at least they’d survived. She rose to her feet and edged her way across the slippery log to dry land. He was right behind her.

He glanced down the shoreline but saw no sign of their pursuers yet. Heather wrapped her arms around her body and waited for him. Water dripped from her long dark hair.

He surveyed the landscape. They’d drifted far enough that it would be a while before their pursuers caught up with them. He knew where he was and where they could go to get warm. “We need to build a fire, but not where we’ll be seen easily.”

“Where can we go?” Her eyes appeared glazed when she looked at him. Shock was setting in. Hypothermia couldn’t be far behind.

He placed his palms on her cheeks, forcing her to make eye contact. “Just stay with me. Do what I say. I got this, okay?”

She nodded.

He sprinted through the trees up toward a rock face until he found an outcropping of rock that would provide shelter on three sides.

“Gather any dry wood you can find,” he said.

One of the things he’d pulled off the saddlebags was a waterproof bag containing magnesium fire starter and dryer lint for kindling. As he drew the fire starter out of the plastic bag, he noticed that his whole body trembled.

Heather returned a few minutes later with a pile of sticks. “Everything is pretty wet.” Her voice was shaky from the cold and all the color had drained from her face.

They needed to hurry and get this fire built.

“Anything you can find will help.” He drew his knife off his belt. “I can split it. The wood on the inside is dry.”

“I’ll go find more.” She turned and dashed toward the trees.

Using one log as a baton and his knife as a hatchet, he split several logs. His vision blurred as water dripped off his hair. He squeezed his eyes shut then opened them.

Dear God, help us stay alive.

He could feel the strength draining from his body and his mind fogging. Heather returned with more wood.

“I’ve got enough here to start the fire.” He pointed at the fire starter. “Do you know how to use that?”

She nodded. “We go camping in California, too, you know.”

She knelt down beside him, gathering the kindling into a pile around the dryer lint. She shaved off some magnesium flakes and then slid the scraper across the rod until she made some sparks. Her hands were shaking, too, as she used them to protect the fragile flames. Once the fire consumed the kindling, Zane placed larger pieces of wood on the fire until he could feel the warmth.

He slipped out of his wet coat. “You might want to take yours off. Lay it across those rocks so the fire will dry it out. You’ll need to sit close to me...for warmth.”

She gave him a momentary stare before stripping her coat and gloves off and scooting beside him.

“All right if I wrap my arms around you?”

She nodded. He took her into an awkward hug. Her body was rigid in his arms, unmoving except for the shivering. Both of them watched the flames as they warmed up and dried out.

“Will they come looking for us?” Her voice sounded very far away and weak.

He lifted his head to look around. Their would-be captors had been tenacious up to this point. There was no reason to think they would just give up now. “Probably.” The fire was small, and they were hidden by the rocks, but they couldn’t stay here for long without running the risk of being found.

“Who are they?”

Her question fell like a heavy weight on his chest. He took in a breath as the past rushed at him at a hundred miles an hour. This wasn’t the first time she’d asked the question. He needed to finally give her an answer. “There’s a man who used to live in these mountains. He’s a doomsday-conspiracy kind of guy who thinks that the authorities are out to get him. So he lives out in places like this, in the middle of nowhere. He recruits boys and young men who need a father figure, indoctrinates them to be just as wild and lawless as he is. They’re his own personal army, committing whatever crimes he plans. This area was his territory for a long time. He left almost seven years ago. He must be back here for some reason.”

“How do you know it’s him?”

“The way those boys acted. And then I heard them mention Willis’s name,” he said.

“How do you know all this about him and his boys?” She brushed a strand of wet hair off her neck.

He took a moment to answer. “I used to be one of them when I was a kid. I was just as wild, until I met your father.”

The stiffness of her body against his softened a little. She took a moment to ask her next question. “My father helped you get away from this Willis guy?”

He nodded. Seven years ago, Willis had made the mistake of telling Zane he needed to get a job in town to bring in money. It was something Willis demanded of many of his followers whose loyalty he thought was without question. But Willis hadn’t known that Zane would bond so deeply with the man who hired him. Stephan’s love for God and His creation and unconditional love for Zane had been such a contrast to Willis’s harsh world of punishment and rewards.

She seemed to relax even more in his embrace. “Why do they want you—or me, for that matter?”

“I don’t know.” He had cut all ties with Willis and anyone who knew the man or held similar views.

“Maybe they’re looking to punish you because you didn’t want to be with them anymore,” she said.

“That was years ago. Willis is a little crazy, but he’s also very calculating. The law was breathing down his neck when he left here. He wouldn’t risk returning just for revenge.” Something had drawn Willis back here.

She slipped from his embrace, stood up and moved closer to the fire. “So what do we do?”

“We need to get across that river so we can get to town, contact the authorities,” he said. “There’s another crossing ten miles down.”

Her expression didn’t change. She held her hands closer to the fire. “They’ll be looking for us there, don’t you think?”

“Probably. Willis knows these mountains better than I do.” Though he didn’t want to scare her, he couldn’t lie to her.

“It’s never easy, is it?” She crossed her arms over her body. “I just wanted to spread Stephan’s ashes, do the right thing.” She turned slightly away from him.

He wondered what she was thinking. She must be afraid, yet she hadn’t fallen apart, and she hadn’t blamed him for the violence she’d been dragged into.

“We’re pretty well hidden here. Once we’re dried out, we’ll put the fire out and wait until dusk. The darkness will provide us some cover.”

She turned back toward him and nodded. Then she sat down beside him again, watching the glow of the fire. He kept thinking that she would cry or get angry with him, but she didn’t. Brave woman.

“This fire saved us,” she said.

“Yes, it did.” He studied her profile as the firelight danced on her pale skin. This was way more than she had bargained for. “I’m sorry. When all this is over and done with, I’ll take you back up to that mountain so you can do what you came here to do.”

A faint smile crossed her lips and she nodded. But something in her expression suggested that she didn’t believe him. Did she think they were going to die out here? “Was it really because of my father that you were able to leave Willis?”

“With Willis you were always scrambling for his approval, trying to accomplish things so he’d pat you on the back. Your father’s love was filled with grace. His support gave me the strength I needed to get away from that life.”

“I wish I could have known that Stephan.” She shook her head, and her voice faltered. “I wish I could have known him at all. If he loved me, why didn’t he try to get in touch with me when he was alive? I couldn’t have been that hard to track down. His lawyer found me easily enough.”

“Maybe he did try once he stopped drinking. Did your mom ever say anything to you about that?”

She shook her head. “Mom died a year ago, so I can’t even ask her now.”

He stood up beside her and touched her shoulder lightly, knowing that there were no words that would take away her pain and confusion.

They waited until the light faded. Hunger gnawed at his belly as they headed back toward the river. He’d grabbed protein bars from the saddlebags. Since that was their only food, he didn’t want to eat them until they had no calorie reserves left. They might be out here for a long time. He needed to be smart about when they ate their only food.

Behind him, Heather’s footsteps stopped. He turned to face her, barely able to make out her features in the fading light.

“Something wrong?”

“Thought I heard something.”

He studied the landscape, tuning his ears to the hum of the forest. He understood her jumpiness. He felt it too. Willis taught all his protégés tracking skills, so he had to assume that sooner or later they would encounter one or more of the followers who had been assigned to bring Heather and him in.

As he listened, nothing seemed amiss and nothing sounded human. Still, better safe than sorry.

He turned and headed back down the hill. He heard Heather’s footsteps behind him but nothing else. The silence was unnerving as they moved through the forest.

A flood of memories of his time with Willis came back to him with each step he took. He’s been barely seventeen when Willis had caught him breaking into his car to sleep. Jordan—Jordie—had only been thirteen when they decided a few months earlier that living on the run was better than foster care. His little brother had been even more impressionable than he had been.

So many of Willis’s antiestablishment rants hadn’t rang true or lacked a certain logic, but that was easy to overlook when Willis’s ragtag community finally gave Zane a place where he felt like he belonged. It was the pats on the back and the way Willis would take the time with him to teach him to shoot, build a lean-to and hunt that had made him want to stay in the wild. The camaraderie with the other boys and men filled a void for him, too. It had been hard to leave that behind, even when he’d known it was the right thing to do. The hardest part had been parting from Jordie, who’d refused to leave with him.

His brother would be twenty now, a man. Jordan had gone with Willis and the others when they left the area, but had he stayed with him all these years?

Zane stuttered in his step. Heather came up close to him. Her shoulder pressed against his as he heard her sharp intake of breath. To the east, the river murmured.

Though he heard nothing amiss, his heart beat a little faster. “You hear something?”

After a moment, she shook her head. “I guess not. I’m just a little nervous.”

His warning system was on high alert as well. Now that they were out in the open, he had to assume they were being tracked.

“Stay close,” he whispered.

He moved slower, choosing each step with a degree of caution, not wanting a single sound to alert anyone tracking them to their location. Heather seemed to instinctually know that she needed to be quiet. Her steps were almost lighter than air.

A wolf howled somewhere in the distance. Zane’s heart hammered out a steady beat. He pushed through trees, seeking more cover. The gray dusk light turned charcoal. Stars glimmered above them, but he could not take the time to notice their beauty. He dared not let himself relax or let his guard down.

“I’m thirsty,” whispered Heather as she came up beside him.

She was probably hungry, too.

He just wasn’t sure if stopping to eat the protein bars was a good idea right now. “Don’t eat the snow. We’ll drink from the river.”

He followed the sound of the water rushing over stones. He crouched low and chose a sheltered spot where the cottonwoods grew close to the water.

Heather knelt beside the river.

“It’s cold. Drink just enough to keep you going. I have food. We’ll eat in a while.”

He positioned himself beside her and cupped his own hands and placed them in the icy water. After several handfuls, he stood up and tugged on Heather’s coat. She rose to her feet and they slipped back into the shelter of the forest.

The canopy of the trees and the encroaching darkness made it hard to see. He heard a yelp that was clearly human off to his side, maybe ten feet away. He grabbed Heather’s hand and pulled her to the ground.

Both of them remained still as the footfalls of a human being overwhelmed the other forest sounds. Heavy boots pounded past them.

One guy alone. Zane should be able to take him and get a weapon. Zane leaped to his feet and jumped on the teenager. The young man turned out to be the size of a football player and with the same strength. They wrestled, crashing against the brush. The teenager flipped over on his stomach in an effort to push himself to his feet.

The shouts of the other boys filled the forest. Their position had been given away by the noise of the fight, and reinforcements were closing in.

Zane kept a knee in Football Player’s back as he felt along his waistband for a gun. He retrieved a small pistol.

Now the whole forest was full of the noise of their pursuers edging closer. He saw bobbing lights. The mechanical thunder of ATVs coming to life surrounded them.

Heather pulled on his shoulder. “Hurry. They’re coming.”

She let go of him and turned to head away from the bobbing lights. He stuffed the gun in his waistband and took a step toward her. From the ground where he lay, Football Player grabbed at his ankle. Zane stumbled, nearly falling on his face.

Heather swung around and landed a kick to the kid’s shoulder so he let go of Zane’s foot. The crashing and breaking of branches alerted them to the closeness of their pursuers. They shot through forest and back up toward a sloping hill. The roar of ATVs pressed on them from all sides. When he glanced over his shoulder, he saw three sets of glowing white headlights. They’d never outrun these machines.

He rerouted toward a cluster of trees. Heather followed him. Once they were deep into the forest, he stopped.

He pointed at a tree. “Climb.”

Heather must have realized hiding was their only option. Without a word, she dashed toward the tree and grabbed a low, sturdy branch. She climbed with agility and ease. He ran to a nearby tree and jumped up to grasp one of the lower branches. The ATVs grew louder. Headlights cut a wide swath through the trees. As artificial light filled the forest, he could make out the silhouette of Heather resting her belly on a stout branch and holding on to the smaller limbs of the tree. Evergreen boughs partially hid her, but wouldn’t provide enough protection if someone looked her way. He could only hope their pursuers kept their eyes on the ground.

The machines surged by beneath them. He spotted two riders by themselves. A third ATV with a driver and a passenger zoomed by. The ATVs scooted up the hill, the noise of their engines growing faint. The bobbing flashlights told him there were some trackers on foot, as well. These searchers approached at a slower pace, shining their light over the brush and trees. The orange glow of the flashlights landed on the tree where Heather was hiding. Zane tensed. If they were spotted, they’d be shot like coons out of their trees even if it was just to injure them.

In the distance, the ATVs slowed. They must have figured out they’d lost the trail and now they were backtracking. There were three young men with flashlights on foot. One of them lingered beneath the tree where Heather was hiding.

He’d counted seven boys and young men chasing after them in all. As far as he could tell in the dark, none of them were Jordie. Though the passing of time would make it hard to recognize his brother even in daylight. He could only hope that his brother had escaped the control Willis had had on his life.

The lone searcher continued to pace beneath Heather’s hiding place, shining the flashlight on nearby trees. Zane could no longer hear the noise of the other two foot soldiers who had split off and disappeared into the forest.

Zane clenched his teeth. All they needed was for this tracker to leave, and they could scramble down and find a new hiding place or even escape.

It sounded like the ATVs were doing circles, trying to pick up the trail. The man shone his light on the tree where Zane hid. The light glared in Zane’s face. He’d been spotted. Zane’s muscles tensed as the man reached for his gun.


FIVE (#u40692a2c-9b55-50c6-8035-bb5e2641aa2d)

Zane jumped down from his hiding place and pounced on the man, knocking the wind out of him. Zane grabbed the flashlight where it had rolled away from the temporarily disabled man. By then, Heather was halfway down the tree. She ran the remaining ten feet to rush to his side.

Between the two other searchers on foot and the ATVs coming back this way, there was only one direction to go. Both of them took off running. Zane led them in an erratic path around the trees, hoping to make them harder to follow.

He caught glimpses of bobbing lights in the forest. They needed to shake these guys before they had any chance of getting back to the river.

He pushed deeper into the forest where the undergrowth was thick. The roar of the ATVs never let up. They skirted around some brush, coming face-to-face with a kid on foot who didn’t look to be more than twelve years old. When he saw them, the kid’s eyes grew wide with fear. He showed no sign of pulling any kind of a weapon on them.

“I won’t tell if you don’t,” said Zane as he darted off in a different direction with Heather close on his heels.

They sprinted through the darkness of the forest, dodging lights and sounds that seemed to come at them from every direction, feet pounding the ground, breath filling their lungs and coming out in cloudy puffs as the night grew colder.

He dismissed any thought of returning to the river just yet. The river was probably patrolled anyway.

They ran until twenty minutes passed without seeing a light or hearing a human noise. Both of them pressed against tree trunks in an aspen grove, the sounds of their heavy inhales and exhales the only noise around.

They couldn’t keep dodging these guys forever. Granted, it looked like Willis had sent the B team, younger men and boys with less high-tech equipment and experience, to track them down, but if Willis was serious about kidnapping Zane and Heather, he’d send the A team or come out himself sooner or later.

Heather pushed off the tree and moved toward him as if to talk to him.

In his peripheral vision, he saw the vapor cloud of someone exhaling by a tree. His heart skipped a beat as he held up his hand, indicating to Heather she needed to stand still.

He watched as the person behind the tree let out another breath from maybe twenty feet away.

Seconds ticked by.

Though her face was covered in shadows, he picked up on the fear in Heather’s posture. Both of them stood as still as rocks. His heartbeat drummed in his ears. Whoever was behind the tree took a single step, feet crunching on snow.

Heather turned her head ever so slightly as if to indicate that she thought they should run. He shook his head. He didn’t think they’d been spotted yet, but any noise at all would alert the stranger to their whereabouts.

The stranger took another step. Through the prism of the narrow white and black aspen trunks, Zane discerned the silhouette of a man, standing still for a long time as though he were taking in his surroundings. Probably listening for any noise that might be out of place.

Zane swallowed as his heart raged in his chest and sweat trickled down his back. His mouth was dry.

With the next footstep, the stranger moved away from where he and Heather stood. The footsteps came one after the other before finally fading into the distance.

When the man got far enough away that they could no longer hear him, Heather let out a breath, and her shoulders slumped, but she didn’t move until Zane took a step toward her.

She closed the distance between them so she could talk in a whisper. “Who was that?”

“I’m not sure,” he said.

Another hunter? Maybe. More likely it was someone in Willis’s crew who was out in the woods for some reason other than capturing them. Or someone who was supposed to catch them but who didn’t want to get into a wrestling match.

Zane ran his hand over the pistol he’d gotten off the teenager, grateful that he hadn’t needed to use it.

“Follow me,” he said.

They walked for a distance through the darkness. It was too much of a risk to turn on the flashlight, and the moonlight provided enough light to see the ground. He stopped at the top of a knoll and stared down at the cluster of trees below. He turned the flashlight on and off just to get a glimpse. Something about the arrangement of the underbrush looked unnatural.

Heather followed him down the hill and into the evergreens. Hidden from view from the outside, he saw piles of pine boughs covering some sort of structure. He pulled several of the branches off until he found a small door. The structure was made of heavy duty plastic stretched across PVC pipe and it was not more than four feet high.

“It’s like a hobbit house,” said Heather.

He poked his head in. A gust of warmth surrounded him. “Actually, it’s a little more sinister than that.” He pulled out the flashlight and turned it on. As he’d suspected, they’d stumbled on someone’s pot farm. “Might as well come in, it’s warm inside.”

The plants were spaced to allow a single person to get around to tend them. Heather slipped in after him. “Someone has a serious need to support a habit.”

“This kind of operation isn’t about personal use. Someone is growing this stuff to sell.”

And from the look of the empty shelves, much of it already had been sold. He’d received letters from law enforcement telling him to be on the lookout for the pot farms in the high country because it was such a good place to hide an operation. As much time as he spent up here, he was bound to stumble across one sooner or later. He wondered, too, if the stranger they’d encountered in the woods had just left the little hidden farm. Maybe he was part of Willis’s group but spent most of his time away from the main base and had no idea about Zane and Heather being hunted by the others. An operation like this required daily attention. From the size of the plants, they’d been up here for a while. With the limited number of people who came up here outside of hunting season, Willis might have been here through the spring and summer.

“I guess they’re not likely to get caught this far away from everyone.” Heather scooted in behind him and closed the tiny door.

“Right.” The more he thought about it, the more certain Zane was that no one besides Willis and his little army would be this far up. The little farm had to be Willis’s. Willis had always been against the consumption of drugs and alcohol, but he wasn’t above selling it to others to make money. This was a larger crop than Zane would have expected, though. What exactly was Willis up to anyway? What was he trying to finance?

Once hunting season started in a few weeks, Willis ran the risk of being spotted, so it must be something that would happen soon.

Zane shone his flashlight around, spotting a pamphlet that was authored by Willis. Any doubt that this operation was his fell away. Zane noticed a water container. He lifted it and handed it first to Heather. She took several gulps of water as he skirted around the dirt floor to see what else he could find. He came up with a blanket neatly folded and a heavy-duty sleeping bag on a mat.

“There’s a little stove here and some canned goods.” He heard Heather’s voice but couldn’t see her through the foliage.

When he studied the roof, it looked like there was some sort of solar panel set up to keep the place warm. Whoever tended the plants must stay here for extended periods. No doubt he would be back. But hopefully not before Zane and Heather had a chance to take refuge for a little while.

He worked his way over to where Heather had already fired up the little propane stove and was opening a can of beans.

He patted the protein bars in his pocket, grateful he could save them for later. “Let’s eat and get out of here. I’m sure someone checks these on a regular basis. The ‘farmer’ might be the guy we saw a few minutes ago, just out for a brief walk.”

Heather poured the beans into the metal tin and placed it on the gas flame.

He felt a sense of urgency. “Maybe we should eat the beans cold.”

She cut the flame. “There’s only one spoon.”

“You first,” he said.

She took four quick bites and then handed him the can. He’d finished his third bite when he heard the roar of the ATVs raging down the hill toward them. So much for rest and food. They’d been found again. Time to run.

* * *

Bright lights glaring through the clear plastic nearly paralyzed Heather. Zane clicked off the flashlight. She heard him scrambling toward the door. It took her a moment before her brain kicked into gear, and she followed behind him, slipping through the tiny opening and out into the dark night.

The ATVs loomed down the hill toward them, the engine noises sounding like hungry monsters gnashing their teeth. Her limbs felt heavy and muscles cried out with fatigue from having run so much.

Zane grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the shelter of the trees. The ATV noise fell away by half, indicating some of their pursuers must have stopped to examine the greenhouse. She kept her eyes on the back of Zane’s head as they fled. They ran until the noise died down to a single ATV and then fell away altogether.

When the silence of the forest surrounded them once again, they ran and rested and ran some more until the sun peeked up over the mountains. Early-morning light washed everything with a warm glow, and she felt her strength returning.

They stopped only briefly to eat the protein bars Zane had gotten from Clarence’s saddlebag.

It seemed to her that they’d been running in circles, but she knew Zane was smarter than that, and knew the area well enough to be choosing their direction carefully. He must be trying to figure out a safe way to get down off the mountain, back to the river and back to Fort Madison.

The landscape opened up to flat meadow that was partially covered in snow. She shaded her eyes from the glare. In the distance, she spotted a red and blue object that looked out of place.

She ran toward it. As she drew closer, more colors became evident. It was a backpack. She knelt down.

The backpack was empty. Another hiker who had been robbed maybe?

Zane knelt beside her. He bolted to his feet and glanced around.

Heather stood up, too, studying the partially snowy landscape. She spotted a yellow object attached to the branch of a tree and ran toward it. She pulled the fabric free of the branches, her chest tightening. The fabric was from a man’s bandanna.

She glanced up just as Zane disappeared into another part of the forest. Her feet pounded the earth as she followed after him, stepping through patches of crunchy snow and into the trees. The canopy of evergreens cut the light by half as she stepped deeper into the forest. Her breath caught when she glanced down at the ground. Dribbles and several huge circles of dried blood spotted the snow.

Her chest felt like it was in a vice. She tried to tell herself that the blood could be from an animal—but there had been no sign of teeth or claw marks on the belongings they’d spotted. The backpack and bandanna looked like they’d been discarded by human hands.

Zane burst through the trees. His expression was like none she’d ever witnessed before. Eyebrows knit in anguish, his skin the color of rice. Eyes filled with fear. He glanced over his shoulder and then back at her.

“What is it?” She stepped toward where he’d looked.

He grabbed her arm at the elbow. “You don’t need to see this.”

She pulled away, not able to let go of the idea that she had to know what was going on in these mountains. She darted toward where Zane had come from.

She found the man’s body propped up against the tree. The body had not started to decompose, so he must have been here a short time. The bloodstain on his chest revealed that he had been stabbed.

Light-headed, she whirled away, slamming into Zane’s chest. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her away from the gruesome sight.

Her mind reeled. Murderers. She’d been so focused on running for her life that reality hadn’t sunk in until she saw the dead man. They were trapped on this mountain with bloodthirsty killers.

She rested for a moment in the security of Zane’s arms, trying to calm herself. But her mind raced at a thousand miles an hour. She fought to get a deep breath.

She could barely get the words out. “What happened...there? Did they kill him so they could get his stuff?” She pulled away from him, then paced back and forth gripping her somersaulting stomach. “Do they have so little regard for life?”

He stepped toward her. “Calm down.”

“Calm down?” Her words splintered as they spilled from her lips. Her legs felt like were made of rubber. She’d only come up here to spread her father’s ashes. How had things gotten to this point where she was fighting to get away from men who acted worse than animals?

He reached out for her.

She darted away, shaking her head. “What is going on here?”

“Heather, please.” He stepped toward her.

“You knew these men. You were one of them.” Really, if Zane hadn’t told her that he used to be under the influence of someone like Willis, she never would have guessed it. Was it really possible a man could change so radically?

“I am nothing like them.” Zane’s voice was tinged with anger. “Not anymore. And this is way over the top. We never did anything like that when I was with Willis.”

“It looks like they are getting more desperate or bloodthirsty, then. What is driving them?” Her voice was barely above a whisper. Her mind clouded as a fear she had never felt before invaded her awareness. She turned nearly a full circle. The killers were out there waiting to attack again, looking for the chance to take her and Zane. But after they used them for whatever they had in mind, would she and Zane die, too?

“Heather, please don’t give up.” He stepped toward her and cupped his hands on her shoulders. “We need to get back to town so the authorities can come up here and deal with these men.”

She nodded slowly. He was right. They could not stop fighting or give in to fear.




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