The road narrowed as it wound back toward the mountains until it was almost a Jeep trail. But it didn’t deter her. They bumped along with him wondering how long it would take before she admitted she might be wrong—if ever. Ahead, he could see that the road only got worse as it led back into the rugged foothills and probably petered out shortly after that.
“Did you want me along as the voice of reason? Or just someone to fix the flat after one of these rocks punctures a tire?” he finally asked.
“All right,” she said with a sigh. “I’ll look for a place to turn around.”
AT THE SOUND of the vehicle coming, the woman cried, “Quick!” Even in the dimming light, Holly Jo could see that she looked terrified. It ratcheted up her own growing terror. Her heart pounded so hard, it felt as if it would break free of her chest. “Down this way.”
The woman barreled off the road and through the scrub brush and rocks, nearly falling. Breathing hard, Holly Jo did the same, sliding down the slope as the sound of the vehicle grew louder and closer. She could see another road below them.
“Duck!” the woman cried, turning to wave her to the ground as she lay down. Holly Jo dropped to the dirt, rolling over on her stomach to look back up the hillside. On the road above them, a white pickup roared past, sending up a cloud of dust. Before it could settle, the woman was on her feet again.
“Hurry. We have to go,” she whispered hoarsely. She started down the steep slope again, sending rocks cascading after her, and Holly Jo followed, scared that the man might have seen them or that he could hear them. It wasn’t until they were almost to the road that she realized it wouldn’t be long before the man discovered them both gone. All he had to do was look in the room where she’d been held. They’d left the door standing open.
Just yards from the road, the woman fell and let out a cry as she reached for her ankle. She’d apparently twisted it on a rock. She was bent over it, crying softly.
Holly Jo slid down to her. She’d been worrying where they were going, how far it would be before they reached a county road or a ranch house. From what she’d seen, there were none around. The man would come looking for them. Holly Jo knew it and suspected the woman did as well.
Above them, they both started at the sound of the man’s bellow. “What the hell, Melanie! What have you done!”
As the woman tried to get to her feet, she let out another cry and fell back. “I can’t put any weight on my ankle.” She looked at Holly Jo with tears in her eyes. “You have to go on alone.” She looked terrified. They could both hear the man swearing and throwing things. “Go! Run. You can’t let him catch you! Go!”
Holly Jo scrambled on down to the road, then took off running. She could hear the man yelling back up on the hill. She was afraid he would see her and come after her in the pickup. As she reached a curve in the road, she finally dared glance back. She saw the woman lying where she’d left her. Above her, the man was silhouetted against the sun high on the slope they’d slid down.
The man hollered down to the woman he’d called Melanie. “I’m going to kill you!”
BIRDIE SLOWED THE SUV as the road got worse and sighed. She hadn’t even noticed it getting so dark. In the headlights, she could see more of the same rough country. There just seemed to be an endless supply of badlands, brush and scrub broken only by narrow roads that were choked with weeds as they wound back to old mines or abandoned homesteads.
The sheriff had said there were endless old mining roads back in here, and he’d been right. Birdie felt as if she’d driven down them all. Most petered out at a rock pile or just ended for no apparent reason.
She hated to admit defeat. It went against her nature. She hoped there was enough gas left to get back to Powder Crossing. To Brand’s credit, he had helped her search for Holly Jo without complaint. Even now, he looked at her almost with sympathy, as if he knew how hard it was for her to quit.
“You were right to search,” he said. “There was the chance we would find her.”
She couldn’t work up even a thank-you smile, feeling instead close to tears. She’d been so sure they would find her.
“By now, Stuart has a BOLO out on the pickup and Melanie Baker, all because of you,” Brand said. “Tomorrow is another day.”
She nodded, biting her lower lip as she looked out through the glow of the headlights at this desolate-looking country now filled with deep shadows as darkness descended. Clearly it took a certain breed to stay, fighting the weather, the land, even the river, to make a living ranching here. She had to admire that kind of toughness.
It made her think of Brand and his family. Of his mother, who’d put up that fight alone for years. The woman Birdie had come here hoping to send to jail. Now she thought about what would happen to the ranch, to Brand and the rest of his family, if she succeeded.
“Want me to drive?” he asked.
She nodded and stopped to let him slide behind the wheel. “I think we have enough gas to get back to town.”
He chuckled as he shifted into gear. “Only if this rig runs on fumes.” Birdie leaned back in the seat and looked at Brand, his strong hands on the wheel, his gaze on the road ahead as he headed off the mountainside. Don’t fall for this cowboy rancher. The voice sounded a lot like her nana’s.
Give him a chance, she said silently to her grandmother. I really like him.
She looked out the windshield, the headlights piercing the darkness for at least a few yards ahead, and felt bereft. She’d been so sure Holly Jo was out here. Just as she was so sure Charlotte Stafford had killed her father?
Birdie closed her eyes, told herself that once she finished her business in the Powder River Basin, she would leave, but not yet. She didn’t want to leave Brand Stafford. She felt a pull that worried her. Maybe she was more like her mother than she’d wanted to admit, because this cowboy rancher was awfully tempting.
Her eyes flew open as she heard Brand curse and hit the brakes. Flat tire.
HOLLY JO COULD hear the man yelling behind her. When she dared glance back, she could see him still silhouetted against the last of daylight etched against the mountains to the west.
She’d expected him to go down the hillside to where the woman was crying, saying she was hurt, saying she was sorry.
But he hadn’t moved. He was yelling down at her, “Where is the little brat? What did you do with her? So help me, Melanie, you fool...” Then she heard the gunshot and the woman’s scream.
Holly Jo stumbled and almost fell as the boom of more gunshots rang in her ears. She realized that she could no longer hear the woman crying. Her legs ached from running, and yet she pushed harder, tears blinding her. She raced down the road as hard and fast as she could. Her side ached, and her legs trembled with the exertion after all the hours of drugged sleep.
All the while, her thoughts whirled in a terrifying tornado. The man had killed the woman. He could kill her too if he caught her. She was sure of it. The thought had her heart pounding. She couldn’t let him catch her.
Her ragged breaths came out in gasps as she pushed harder, legs pumping as her feet pounded the ground. The road was little more than a trail. She knew there had to be another road, a more main one that went to where there had to be people.
Ahead there was nothing but more of the same scrub brush and rocky terrain appearing out of the growing darkness. The landscape looked endless. No lights blinked from houses or vehicles on the road ahead. She wasn’t even sure she was running in the right direction.
At the sound of the pickup’s revving engine, she knew she had to get off the road. Frantically she looked around for a place to hide, seeing none. All she could do was bail off the narrow road and down through the rocks and bushes in hopes of finding cover. The loose ground moved under her feet. She began to slide as the sound of the pickup’s engine grew louder.
Her left foot hit a large rock. She felt herself go airborne, off balance, headfirst down the hillside. The ground came up fast and hard. She hit and rolled, tumbling crazily downward from one switchback to land on the road below. She felt searing pain, but it was nothing compared to her terror as she heard the roar of the pickup growing louder and louder.
As she tried to get up, in pain and bleeding, she was caught in the blinding headlights of the pickup. It came directly at her.
CHAPTER TWENTY
“HERE, WIPE YOUR FACE,” the kidnapper snapped and tossed her a dirty rag he’d picked up off the floorboard of the truck. “You’re a mess.”
