Big Sky Showdown

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

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

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.