Dangerous Legacy

Maggie fought to stay on the pavement. An inch more to the right and her tires would slip onto the muddy shoulder!

The truck shimmied. Wolfie barked. Maggie did her best to maintain control. It was no use. She hollered, “Hang on, boy,” as the outside wheels edged a fraction too far and carried them off the road with a lurch.

They bent a mile marker post, then bumped and jostled down the rain-slick grass slope and slid diagonally toward a barbed-wire fence at the bottom.

If Maggie tried to steer while sideways on the steep incline, she knew, she would lose control and roll. All she could do was ride it out. And pray.

* * *

Flint was finishing an enjoyable evening meal at the Allgood residence and discussing who might have been behind the shooting at the animal rehab center when the sheriff’s phone rang.

Harlan answered and listened briefly. “Well, what’re you callin’ me for?” Flint saw him begin to scowl. “Okay, okay. I’ll head out there ASAP. Where’d you say it was?”

Flint pushed back from the table. “What’s happened?”

“Single-car accident. A truck skidded off Highway 62 out by the Anderson place.”

“Anybody hurt?”

“The witness didn’t know.”

“Why are you responding? Can’t the highway patrol handle it?”

The sheriff nodded as he buckled his utility belt and checked his gun. “Probably. They’ve been called, too.” He tilted his head at Flint. “You might wanna grab your gear and come along.”

“Why? Was a deer involved?” That kind of collision occurred often during the fall of the year.

“Don’t know. Don’t think so.”

Puzzled, Flint pulled his jacket on over his bulletproof vest. “Okay. If you think you need me, I’ll come with you.”

“It ain’t for my sake,” Harlan said as he kissed his wife’s cheek and hurried to the kitchen door. “It’s for yours. The witness says the truck’s from Maggie’s job. Nobody drives it but her.”

* * *

The vehicle that had slammed into Maggie had kept going. As soon as her truck stopped sliding, she turned off the ignition key and unbuckled her seat belt. She and Wolfie were okay. That was the important thing.

Taking a moment to collect herself, she buried her face in her pet’s ruff and silently thanked God, then sat back. “Well, what do you think, Wolfie? Shall we hike up to the road and flag somebody down?”

As Maggie’s random thoughts began to sort themselves out, she realized she had a better way to summon help. She reached for her phone. Her purse wasn’t on the seat anymore. Feeling around on the floor of the cab didn’t help, either.

She tried to shoulder open her door. It was stuck. Thankfully, the passenger side worked. Wolfie cleared her with a bound and began leaping through long, wet grasses and wildflowers like a spring lamb at play.

“Stay with me, boy, while I find my phone.”

Ignoring her, he began to sniff at their surroundings while she stood in the thigh-high grass to explore beneath the seat. Her fingers touched soft leather. Got it! However, as she pulled her purse out she noted that it felt far too light. Half its contents were missing.

“Rats!” She leaned in and patted along the floor mat. The cell phone had to be there. Too bad she didn’t have a flashlight.

Wolfie’s sharp yelp made her jerk. The barrage of angry barking that followed was unmistakable. He was defending her. But from what?

Maggie had held very still when he began to bark. Now she slowly backed out of the truck cab and scanned their surroundings.

Hackles up, her dog was looking past her toward the road. A vehicle was idling on the shoulder of the highway and someone was getting out. She cupped a hand around her mouth and shouted, “Have you called 911?”

The dark figure merely stood there. Wouldn’t an innocent passerby answer? Ask if she was injured?

“Hello? Do you have a phone?”

Flustered, she peered up at the other truck. Not only was it the same size and color as the one that had hit her, but the part of it that she could see looked uneven!

Maggie reached across and clicked off her headlights. Suppose that was no Good Samaritan up there? Suppose it was her unknown enemy? Had he come back to finish the job he’d started?

Frightened, Maggie gave up the search for her missing phone and edged around the front of her truck. Wolfie was already on the opposite side of the barbed-wire fence separating the roadway from a pasture. Climbing back up to the pavement to flag down a passing motorist was out of the question at this point. So, what options were left?

She could stand there until her nemesis decided to make the next move, or she could take matters into her own hands. Undecided, she studied him. She had Wolfie on her side and the other driver had...a gun! The glint of a chromed pistol in his hand was brief but quite enough incentive.

Maggie whirled and raced to the section of fence her dog had shimmied under, dropped onto her stomach and crawled through the way a commando would.

A gruff shout echoed. “You can’t hide.”

That actually helped. She rose to all fours, sprang to her feet and ran, positive she heard someone in pursuit. Wolfie paced her for a few moments before diverting toward the nearest patch of woods.

“Good boy.” Maggie followed, panting. At least one of them was thinking straight.

Forest shadows swallowed her. She slipped on wet leaves beneath the trees, falling and recovering over and over until her energy and adrenaline were spent.

Hands resting on the muddy knees of her jeans, she gasped for breath. Wolfie circled back and licked her face.

Prayer was called for, she knew, but her heart was too dispirited to even try.

Kneeling in the wet leaves she slipped an arm around her dog’s neck and let tears be her unspoken plea.

Nobody knew where she was but God.

And her enemy.

* * *

Flint used his emergency flashers and made better time than the sheriff. Spying a cluster of headlights along the opposite shoulder, he knew this was the accident scene. Maggie had almost made it into town. Why in the world had she run off the road? Was she speeding? Talking or texting? Had she lost focus for some other reason?

None of those ideas made sense. The teenage Maggie he remembered had been conscientious to a fault. Surely her basic nature hadn’t changed that much.

Flint parked in an open spot on his side of the highway so he wouldn’t have to make a U-turn and left his hazard lights on as a warning to passing drivers.

Traffic was sparse. He jogged across all four lanes in seconds. Several civilian motorists had stopped and were pointing to the wreck. A uniformed police officer at the base of the incline cupped a hand around his mouth and shouted, “No sign of the driver.”

Flint’s heart beat hard and fast. If Maggie wasn’t there, where was she? Had she been kidnapped? No. That idea was too far-fetched. But why leave her truck? Nothing made sense.

He stepped off the outer berm, slipping and sliding his way to the bottom. Plenty of others had obviously been down there, because the vegetation was trampled. What if their carelessness had destroyed evidence that would lead to finding her?

Pulling the flashlight off his utility belt, he played the beam over the scene.

Someone touched his arm. “Simmer down,” a deputy said. “As soon as the sheriff gets organized, we’ll form a search party. We’ll find her.”

“What about her dog? Has anybody seen a big dog that looks like a wolf? They’re usually together.”

The officer radioed to the top of the embankment, “Any of you guys see Maggie’s dog?”

Flint felt like a fool. They all knew her and Wolfie and probably cared more than he did. She was one of their own. So why was the urge to track her down so strong in him?

He walked away, playing his light over the ground as he went. Except for the trampled area around the truck, there was no sign of her. Still, he refused to give up. The minute a search party formed, he’d join it, whether anybody liked it or not. He was going to help hunt for her, period. He was...

The beam of his light reflected off drops of rain clinging to the barbed wire. The whole fence glistened, except for one narrow place on the bottom strand! Flint’s breath caught. If nobody else had knocked off the water, there was a chance that Maggie and her dog had done so in passing. Hopefully, they were the only two.

He waved his light like a beacon and shouted, “Over here! I think she went through here.”

Nobody paid attention. He tried again. A few bystanders waved back and continued to talk among themselves, but other than that, he was ignored. Delaying only long enough to shout at the closest officer, “Tell Sheriff Allgood that I think the victim went through the pasture fence just south of here,” Flint went into action.

Once he got through the fence, it was harder to tell which way Maggie and Wolfie had gone. The pasture was already springing back. That slowed his progress. Bent grass, broken stems and an occasional crushed weed were all he had to go by.

The faint path turned so abruptly Flint almost missed the clues. It looked as though Maggie was headed for the woods where her passing would leave no crushed grass.

That should make it harder for him to track her. Fortunately, it would do the same for whoever she was fleeing from—unless there was more than one person after her and they could fan out to cover a wider area.

Picking up his pace, Flint prayed he’d reach Maggie before anyone else did. Before it was too late.

THREE

Being born and raised in the country gave Maggie an advantage. Not knowing exactly where she was took much of it away. Most Ozark homes and farms weren’t located too far apart, but there were also untouched acres of forest that had claimed canyons, and any other land too rocky for pasture or crops.

Spent and discouraged, Maggie sat on a protruding shelf of shale while she caught her breath. Moonlight came and went as wind from the earlier storm pushed lingering clouds across the sky. Sheet lightning flashed in the distance, providing a snapshot view of her surroundings.

She closed her eyes and folded her hands to pray, but only chaotic thoughts resulted. They darted madly through her mind like tiny fish in the shallows when a shadow fell over the water. Thoughts of rescue kept recurring. So did divine guidance. And—Flint?

Maggie’s eyes popped open. “No. Not Flint. Anybody but him.” Surely God could send someone else to save her.

The soft sound of her voice drew the weary dog and she draped an arm across his shoulders the way she would have a human friend. “Yes, Wolfie, I have you, don’t I? And if I was sure you wouldn’t stop to chase rabbits all the way home, I’d let you lead me.”

She sighed. “We couldn’t stay with the truck. But I kind of wish I’d aimed for the lights of farmhouses along the highway instead of following you into the wilderness.”

He slurped her cheek and ear.

“Yeah, well, maybe your path was best, but now what?”

The dog stiffened as if in reply. His nose twitched and he lifted it to face the breeze, then raised his hackles.

Maggie tensed. Listened. Held her breath until her body forced her to exhale. What she had thought was the sound of her panting dog was actually farther away, in the direction she believed they had come. It wasn’t loud. And it faded from time to time, but it was definitely there.

She stood slowly, dismayed by a wave of dizziness. Pushing herself to the edge of her endurance was one thing, but this consequence was unexpected. How could she run when she could hardly keep her balance? And what if she fainted?

“I have never fainted in my life and I’m not going to start now,” Maggie insisted in a whisper. Wolfie wagged his bushy tail.

Demanding that her body comply, she turned to start up the slope behind them. The third step dropped her against the trunk of an enormous oak and there she stayed while bright flashes of color danced at the edges of her vision and the forest seemed to vibrate. This was not good.

Beside her, Wolfie began to growl.

Maggie followed his line of sight, seeing nothing but drifting, shimmering, moonlit shadows. Clearly, she was not going any farther, so what could she use as a defensive weapon?

A nearby deadfall caught her eye. She managed to break a portion of a loose, rotting limb from the fallen tree. It wasn’t much of a club, but at least it wasn’t too heavy to wield. She’d played baseball as a child. It was time for a little batting practice. Even if she only got one swing, it was better than just standing there.

“Wolfie, heel,” Maggie ordered quietly. “Down. Stay.”

Resting the section of limb on her shoulder, she propped herself behind the massive oak and waited.

A twig snapped. Wolfie started to rise, but the flat of Maggie’s hand in front of his nose stopped him. It wouldn’t be long now. Truth to tell, she was looking forward to clocking the guy who had run her off the road.

She tensed. The dog was quivering beside her, as ready as she was. Another cracking sound. Heavy breathing. Almost there!

Fight-or-flight emotions gave her a needed jolt of energy. She poised and mustered her strength, waiting for just the right moment to swing.

* * *

Tracking had been part of Flint’s job training. He’d temporarily lost Maggie’s trail when she crossed a field of exposed rock, but he knew she couldn’t be far ahead.

Should he call to her? No. That might tip off anyone who was stalking her. He couldn’t chance it.

Bending low to inspect a patch of disturbed leaves, he sensed imminent danger and began to rise.

Flint’s forearm came up just in time to absorb most of the blow. Bits of rotted wood rained down like snowflakes. He shouted, “Officer of the law” as he ducked to the side to avoid further strikes and drew his sidearm.

His flashlight found its target. Someone was preparing to hit him again. “Freeze!”

In a heartbeat, he understood. Maggie had thought he was her enemy and had defended herself. Bravo for her. Too bad her aim was so good.

He raised both hands, diverting the light and the gun. “It’s me. Maggie, it’s me. You’re safe now.”

Flint holstered his pistol while she processed reality. He flicked off the flashlight in case there was danger nearby and ruffled his hair to brush away bits of wood.

“Drop the limb, Maggie,” he said, keeping his voice low. “You’re safe now. You’re safe.”

Slowly, her arms lowered. The fractured branch fell. She began to blink rapidly and her balance wavered. Flint reached out to catch her and she fell into his arms, clinging as if he were the only lifeline in a sea of hungry sharks.

What could he do? He tightened his embrace, held her close and waited for her to relax. Eternity passed. Flint was so overcome with emotional memory he squeezed his eyes shut and prayed for strength. This hurt. Deeply. It was as if no time had passed; as if he and Maggie were once again in love and looking forward to a bright future together.

Reality saved him when Wolfie whined. Maggie pushed him away. The look in her eyes was unreadable. His conscience insisted he apologize. “I’m sorry. I thought you were going to faint.”

“I never...” She began to nod. “Thanks. I am woozy. I guess I ran too far and too fast.”

Flint held up a hand. “Hold on a second and you can tell me everything.” He pulled out his phone and reported that she was safe, then led her to the nearest rock outcropping so she could rest and recover, trusting the dog to alert if anyone else approached.

“Okay. What happened?”

“A big truck ran me off the road.”

“I could tell that something did. Why did you run?”

“Because he came back!” Her voice faltered. “I—I thought he was going to finish me.”

“Why? Who has it in for you?

Her shoulders sagged. “Nobody. At least not lately.”

“Explain.”

“Do you remember Abigail Dodd? She used to teach in the old rock school. My mother was one of her students.”

“What about her?”

“She’s the one who thought of starting the wildlife rescue here. I had just graduated from school to become a veterinary assistant, and when she couldn’t find a real vet to take the management job, she offered it to me.”

“Why would that make anybody shoot at you and run you off the road?”

Maggie huffed. “I testified on Abigail’s behalf. Her nephew actually threatened me after the competency hearing and her niece glared daggers. I wouldn’t put it past either of them to shoot at me. What I don’t understand is why they waited until now.”

“The sheriff mentioned something about that hearing, but he never told me you’d been threatened. He just said Ms. Dodd’s relatives were unhappy about the verdict.”

“That’s an understatement. Missy and Sonny were fit to be tied. They wanted power of attorney. I’m the reason they didn’t get it.”

Flint listened with concern. “Do you think it was one of them who ran you off the road tonight?”

“I can’t think of anybody else who’s that mad at me. Maybe they figure they’ll have a better shot at their aunt’s money if I don’t stand in their way.”

“You do realize how paranoid that sounds, don’t you?”

“It’s only paranoia if nobody is really out to get me. After two tries, including tonight, I wonder.”

* * *

By the time the sheriff’s men arrived on ATVs to take Flint and her back to the road, Maggie had regained most of her strength. The official pronouncement that her truck was still safe to drive helped even more.

“I’m fine,” she insisted to a crowd of men. “I can get to my mother’s by myself.”

Harlan seemed reluctant to allow it. Flint looked angry.

She faced them, hands on her hips. “You agree my wheels are safe and it’s only a couple more miles to town. What’s your problem?”

“You are,” Flint argued. “An hour ago you were hardly able to stand. What makes you think you’re capable of driving?”

“An hour ago I was scared to death,” she countered. “Now that nobody’s chasing me, I’m fine.”

“What about later?”

“I’ll worry about tomorrow, tomorrow,” Maggie said. “Consider the lilies of the field—”

“Don’t quote scripture to me.”

“You know that verse?”

“I know a lot of Bible verses.”

“Since when?”

“Since I almost got my head blown off in combat,” Flint said.

Maggie sobered. “Was that the real reason you left the marines?” She could tell by the set of his jaw and shoulders that she’d hit a nerve, but his answer was ambiguous.

“I stayed until my enlistment was up,” Flint said. “Stop trying to change the subject. You’re in no shape to drive that truck and you know it.”

“On the contrary. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I thought I proved that when I clobbered you back in the woods.”

“All you proved was that you’re no match for a gun.”

“Nonsense.” Maggie was not about to admit she’d been weak and ineffectual when she faced what she’d believed was her enemy. “If I hadn’t recognized you, I’d have hit you again.”

“With a limb so rotten it fell apart?”

It had to be pulpy in order to be light enough for her to lift, Maggie thought with chagrin. “I wasn’t helpless. I could have grabbed a rock after you went down. I was tired, that’s all.” She turned to the sheriff. “What about the truck that hit me? Have you found any clues?”

Harlan shook his head. “Not to speak of. There’s a bit of dark paint on your fender, but that’s about all. We took a scraping in case we end up having to send something to the crime lab in Little Rock.”

“Meaning, if whoever ran me off the road doesn’t bother me again nothing will be done?” Maggie folded her arms across her chest to hide a shiver.

“We’ll see. I wouldn’t worry much. Accidents happen. There’s usually nothing sinister about them.”

Beside her, Flint raised his voice. “I don’t believe you people. Did you know she was threatened by Ms. Dodd’s relatives?”

“Ah, Sonny was just blowin’ off steam. Now calm down.” The sheriff gave him a tight smile. “You’ve been away too long. You know this ain’t a big city. We don’t have serious trouble around here. Leastwise not much.”

No serious trouble? Maggie recalled tales of the days when clannishness had divided the town better than any city gang wars could have. Much of what she’d heard as a child had probably been embellished, of course. Small-town gossip was famous for that. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to look into that, too. Now that Flint was home, there was an outside chance her elderly uncle might be involved for reasons other than his poaching. He was hardheaded enough to want to nurture his hatred of the Crawfords and rekindle the generations-old family feud.

What caused her additional worry was the fact that she seemed to be a target, too, probably thanks to her need to tolerate Flint’s presence for the sake of her job. It had been easy to blame rancor against Flint for the shots at the animal center. This so-called accident put a totally different spin on things. This wasn’t a bullet, but it was aimed at her. Was this truly an accident, as the sheriff assumed, or were the incidents related?

Leaving Harlan and Flint arguing, Maggie circled her truck with Wolfie and climbed in. She didn’t have to look in her mirrors to know what she’d see. Flint was going to look fit to be tied.

A lopsided smile lifted her lips—and her spirits. He’d looked so relieved when he found her in the woods she almost hated to annoy him. But she had her limits. Life had forced her to stand on her own two feet, and she wasn’t about to let the man who had almost ruined her life take it over. Not now. Not ever. She had been doing fine by herself, raising her son and providing for him with little outside help from anyone except her mother.

Maggie’s heart warmed at the thought of Mark and Mom. They had been so good for each other: Mark comforting Faye after she was widowed and Faye becoming the grandmother the boy needed to balance his life. It was the perfect arrangement for them all. One she intended to preserve.

As Maggie saw it, all she had to do was pinpoint who was so upset with her—or mad because she’d been seen with Flint—and was acting out. Country people might be obstinate at times, but they were logical thinkers. Sensible and honorable. With God’s help she’d figure out who’d been stirring up trouble.

Her hands tightened on the steering wheel. She hoped nothing altered the peaceful life she’d made for herself in Serenity. If she truly trusted the Lord in everything, she’d be fine. However, the line between self-confidence and letting go and allowing her heavenly Father to guide her could be blurry, especially if she intended to assert her will, which she did.

“Okay, okay,” Maggie said, frustrated. She cast her eyes to the heavens momentarily. “I’ll try to understand and do things Your way, Father, but I’m sure bumfuzzled right now.”

* * *

Flint stood with the sheriff and watched Maggie pull away. He shook his head. “That woman is the most stubborn, impossible person I have ever met.”

“Yup. That’s what keeps her going,” Harlan replied with a grin. “She’s quite mule-headed, our Maggie.”

“She never used to be.”

“Times change. Kids grow up. She was only sixteen when you left, right?”

“Almost seventeen. I was eighteen.”

“And you were skinny as a rail, if I remember right. No wonder you hit the road.”

“Beg pardon?”

Harlan snorted. “Her brothers mighta kilt you, son. Both of ’em outweighed ya by a bunch, and they sure didn’t want you dating their sister.”

“You’re telling me.” Flint sighed. “I tried to get her to elope, you know. She wouldn’t hear of it. Faye had always said she wanted to put on a big wedding for her only daughter, and Maggie was determined to do things her mother’s way.”

“Probably for the best.” The older man lit up a cigar and puffed it slowly. “Did you ever get hitched?”