Big Sky Showdown. Sharon Dunn
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.
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