Shadows of the Mountain Page 14

  “Yeah,” Monty said.

  Jack stepped closer. He appreciated having the steady guide around. Knew the man could be trusted to take care of the animals. And Kate. He’d witnessed the proof of that last night. “Can you wait a bit?” he asked, his voice low.

  “I’m not going anywhere without Kate. If that’s your concern.”

  Jack studied Monty’s candid eyes. He liked and respected the guide, and if he knew Kate was with Monty, it would simplify his assignment. Because his job was to protect Courtney. And if there was some sort of hostile encounter, the President’s daughter had to be his only concern.

  So far, there’d been nothing but some tree blazes. The federal control center back at the ranch remained unconcerned. So did Kessler and Logan. But Jack’s instincts were screaming, and he trusted those far more than any radio reports.

  “If it was decided we had to leave this area,” Jack said slowly, “what would be the best route? If we wanted to avoid our backtrail?”

  “Follow the river eight miles to the north, then swing east,” Monty said. “South is too rough for the horses. Nothing there but a fire tower.”

  “What about west?” Jack glanced at the mountains with the pristine snow glistening on their peaks. He’d studied the maps, had loaded them into his phone, and knew there was a mountain pass.

  “Tricky,” Monty said, “even on foot. Narrow corridors and ledges make it slow going. No, if you want to get out fast, it’s best to ride north.” Judging from Monty’s adamant tone, the man had already given Eagle Pass careful thought. “North is more open country though,” Monty said. “Hunters like it because of the easy riding and clear shots.”

  Jack dragged a hand over his jaw. Open rifle range was too risky. Maybe they should abort this trip. Call in a helicopter right now. But that was Kessler’s decision. And Courtney would be resistant if she came all this way and couldn’t see the mustangs. They were so close.

  “Is the girl’s headache gone?” Monty asked, seeming to read Jack’s mind.

  “Mostly. Those feverfew leaves did the trick. But she’s still nauseous.”

  “So she won’t feel like moving too much today. Be interesting what Kate says when she comes back.”

  “Did you send her out to look around? Alone?” Jack’s voice hardened with disapproval. That explained why she was choosing routes that most sane people would avoid.

  “She’ll be fine. She’s plucky, resourceful.”

  That was similar to Kessler’s comment but Monty spoke with much more admiration than the agent. Kessler had been close-lipped, other than hinting that Kate’s abilities with a knife matched Jack the Ripper’s.

  “I imagine you’ve worked with her a long time,” Jack said.

  Monty shook his head. “Only about five months.”

  Jack hid his dismay. That was about the time the Mustang River Ranch had been selected from the short list. And the same time he’d been contacted regarding his availability. Kessler had assured him that both employees had been thoroughly vetted and were trusted ranch employees. But Kate had been a late addition. And Kessler had been unusually aggressive when he’d insisted on checking her bag, as if not quite comfortable with her presence.

  She always rode at the back. And it was obvious she could move easily through the woods. While anyone could have blazed those trees, it would have been much easier for her. And this morning she’d been gone for hours, giving her the perfect chance to rendezvous with other riders.

  Kessler said she was tough and could improvise. What exactly did he mean? And why had Kate been approved to come if she was such a new hire? On the other hand, she only had a jackknife, and Jack hadn’t given that to her until after the river incident. So it would have been impossible for her to slash any trees.

  Still, it left him wary. And when she returned from her little foray, he intended to ask some blunt questions. He could tell she didn’t want to talk about her past, and he’d respected that. But he had a job, a kid and a nation to protect. And if something affected Courtney’s well-being, he needed to know.

  He’d tried prying information from Kessler and Logan, but the men were too well trained, and Washington agents always stuck by the book. Conversely, they were overly eager to talk about things that made his eyes glaze: Kessler’s three divorces, Logan’s fixation on why women preferred scruffy SEALs over well-dressed agents, and the best way to score free ball tickets to a Nationals game. None of that helped Jack with his commitment to bring Courtney home safely.

  He hardened his gaze on Monty. “It’s time I know what Kate did. Why Kessler is so ambivalent.”

  Monty waited a stubborn moment. “Guess her strength scares some men,” he finally said.

  Jack gave his most withering stare, letting the guide know he needed more. Kate carried no weapons except for a tiny jackknife. While she was in great shape—and he certainly appreciated the way she filled out her jeans—she barely weighed a hundred and ten pounds dripping wet. Even if she were a martial arts expert, she couldn’t take down three trained men. And it wasn’t as if Kessler totally distrusted her. He seemed to hold a grudging respect. After all, the agent could have vetoed her involvement in the ride.

  “She had a tough go last year,” Monty added, his voice reluctant. “Came across an accident in the mountains. Not something anyone should have to experience.”

  Monty stooped over Banjo’s front hoof and it was clear he considered it disloyal to say anything more. But Jack wasn’t letting Monty off the hook that easy. “What kind of accident?”

  “Father and son hunting sheep,” Monty said. “Had their horses tied together. One horse slipped, pulled everyone over the cliff. Rescuers didn’t arrive until the next morning. It was a real mess.”

  Jack didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath until it leaked out in a harsh sigh. “Was she able to help?”

  “Not much anyone could do. But she gave the boy comfort, along with the dying horses.” Monty looked up at Jack with eyes that were suspiciously wet. “She only had her knife and the horses were all busted up. And the wolves were coming closer. So she did what had to be done. What I hope I’d do.”

  He twisted back to Banjo, his gnarled hand brushing at his eyes.

  Jack placed his arm on the horse’s back, similarly seeking comfort. He remembered that incident trending over the Internet: a wild tale of a beautiful woman fighting off wolves, mercifully slitting horses’ throats, all the while comforting a dying boy. He’d written most of it off as sensationalism. Still, if only a small portion had been true, the experience would have been horrifying, even more so for someone gentle like Kate, who valued all lives. Little wonder she avoided talking about her past, just like many of Jack’s SEAL brethren.

  “Thank you, Monty,” he said gruffly. “I’ll treat that information with respect.”

  He’d been drawn not just by Kate’s stunning appearance, but by her composure and sense of inner strength, ever since their first meeting by the pool. The ranch clearly was her place to heal. And the last thing she needed was a firestorm exploding around her.

  He brushed away a horsefly hovering over Banjo’s rump, all the while weighing his options. Kessler and Logan would never discuss strategy with Monty. Or with him. The Secret Service was a closed network, with their own rules and policy, rather arrogant in the belief that they were the ultimate in protection. But Monty was always riding in front, the only man to never leave camp, making him the only person who couldn’t have blazed those trees.

  “I spotted some fresh tree marks on our back trail,” Jack said slowly, “as if someone’s been marking our route.”

  “Kate and I saw them too,” Monty said. “We didn’t know what to make of them.”

  “Me neither,” Jack admitted. “There’s no real evidence that someone is following, but I haven’t had much chance to look around. If we are being tracked, it could be...troublesome.”

  “My boss would be disappointed if the ride is called off,” Monty said. �
�Especially if it’s a false alarm. That wouldn’t help the ranch.”

  Jack glanced at the tent containing the President’s only daughter. Courtney would also be disappointed. This was her graduation gift, a special trip she’d apparently wanted for years. But that wasn’t his concern. Nor was the Barrett ranch. He was being paid to keep the girl safe. And it didn’t help that everyone on the ride had their own suspicions, their own agendas.

  He didn’t like leaving Courtney alone, but he needed to ride out and determine if anyone was following. And if so, why. It could be relatively innocent, some freelance photographer determined to make a year’s salary with a couple money pictures. At this point, it was more disturbing to think that Kessler or Logan—maybe both—were helping an outsider. There could be considerable payoff, depending on the photo. But that was the bright side.

  It would be a cluster fuck if Courtney were kidnapped and used to manipulate political decisions. Certainly the President’s judgment would be severely impaired if his daughter fell into the hands of extremists.

  “I’m going to saddle up and follow our back trail,” Jack said. “See who’s out there.”

  “Take my horse,” Monty said. “Banjo is faster and has more stamina. He doesn’t mind going off alone either.”

  Jack gave a nod of acknowledgement. Loaning one’s favorite horse was no small thing. It seemed this new trust was working both ways. His gaze settled on the small pack. An experienced guide like Monty could disappear into the woods. Keep Courtney safe if necessary. But before he rode out, he had to make sure Monty would take Kate as well. “You have enough food?” Jack asked. “Not just for the two girls but Kate as well?”

  Monty gave him a reproachful look, as if an answer was unnecessary.

  “Guess we should collect the farrier’s kit,” Jack said. “So you can fix that loose shoe.”

  Monty tilted his head in confusion, and then it was his turn to nod. The hoof knife and clinch cutters were plenty sharp and would be useful tools in the woods. Kessler and Logan wouldn’t even notice they were missing. Right now, the two men were fiddling around the panniers, arguing about the best place to set up the communication equipment.

  Jack strode up to them. “I’m going for a little ride,” he said. “See if I can spot the mustangs.”

  “What about our lunch?” Logan asked. “Can the old guy make something?”

  The old guy. Not only did Logan not know his horse’s name, he didn’t even remember Monty’s, seeming to think the ranch staff was around to wipe his butt. “Monty’s busy shoeing,” Jack said, his voice clipped. “But I’ll get something together before I ride out.”

  That way he wouldn’t have to worry about Courtney eating the wrong thing. And maybe Kate would return before he left. He was curious if she’d spotted any shod tracks. Besides, he needed to see her after her wilderness foray, and reassure himself that she was safe.

  “We’re heading to that little hill,” Kessler said. “See if there’s better reception. Don’t leave until we get back. We need more coffee too. Maybe you can get the fire going. Boil some water.”

  The fire was reduced to ashes and there was barely an inch of water left in the pot. Not one stick of firewood remained. The two men might be good with their guns but they weren’t very handy, wasting much of their morning debating who had the hottest date at the last golf tournament.

  “I’ll have lunch ready when you come back,” Jack said, only because he didn’t want Kate stuck doing it. She was bound to be tired after her strenuous hike. It was doubtful she’d have spotted any mustangs. Deer might be able to move through bogs and deadfall, but horses preferred open grasslands where they could spot predators and have a chance to flee. The only horses in that thick brush would be ones forced in by their riders.

  He checked his watch. Almost noon. He watched Kessler and Logan trudge up the hill, lugging the orange panniers. They rounded the bend and disappeared. If they called in at twelve hundred hours, and talked as long as they had yesterday, they’d be gone for approximately twenty minutes.

  He glanced across the clearing at Monty, then jabbed his thumb at the pannier holding the farrier kit. If the man needed to collect more items for his survival pack, this was the perfect time. The farrier tools weren’t as good as a hatchet, but they were easy to carry and it never hurt to be prepared.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  KATE BENT OVER, CLUTCHING her aching side, gasping for breath. Her face stung from the whipping branches and her boots were drenched and muddy from the last bog. But this route was quicker than the winding deer trail, and she had to reach camp before the riders. Had to deliver a warning.

  She sucked in another painful gulp of air and lurched forward. A downed tree caught her leg in a snarl of branches and she wasted precious seconds freeing her boot. She felt slow and awkward, still grappling to accept the danger they faced. And the undeniable fact that one of her group was a yellow-bellied traitor.

  It couldn’t be Jack. Even if he were low enough to sell out his country, he’d never condone leaving her and Tyra to die.

  Would he?

  He’d fooled her before. And he used his gun for money. Mercenaries generally worked for the highest bidder. What would someone pay to have control of the President’s daughter? It must be plenty. Courtney would give terrorists the ultimate weapon.

  She hated to imagine the girl in the hands of a group like ISIS. Dying would be preferable, even a slow death like Danny’s. She gave her head a shake and told herself that no one was going to die. She hadn’t been able to save the boy, but this was different. This time she wasn’t alone. All she had to do was deliver the warning and this area would be swarming with helicopters. There were also two loyal men with guns who were staunchly on Courtney’s side.

  The question was, which two?

  She’d overheard their pursuers talking about an old guide and two men that needed to be taken out. But they hadn’t mentioned names. She wanted to trust Jack but she had to go with her head, not her heart. The stakes were too high. So she’d whisper to Monty first. He could slip the girls safely into the woods before she asked the bodyguards to call for help. Two of them would want to...one wouldn’t.

  She ducked beneath a low-hanging branch and sprinted up the last hill, fueled by the knowledge that camp was close. She could even hear voices, men’s voices.

  She jerked to a stop, her blood chilling. The pursuers couldn’t be here yet, could they? Even if they’d saddled up and galloped their horses the entire way, she should still be at least twenty minutes ahead.

  However, voices sounded from the side of the hill. Masculine, then familiar...and her breath whooshed out in relief. It was only Kessler and Logan, maybe even Courtney if she was feeling better. They were obviously making the noon check-in call.

  She charged toward the sounds, tripped over an exposed tree root, regained her balance and continued running.

  The hilltop was visible with two men outlined against the blue sky. Kessler was kneeling by the equipment, putting it back in the radio canister; Logan stood behind him. Logan’s arm moved. Something in his hand gleamed, reflecting the sun’s silver rays.

  He abruptly stooped, his arm jerked...and he slit Kessler’s throat.

  Kate gaped, unable to move. Unable to step back into the woods or even drop to the ground. Her brain moved molasses slow, struggling to comprehend. This couldn’t be happening. They must be playing at something. In fact, Logan was looking down, talking to Kessler, his round, good-natured face still affable.

  But a bright stain bloomed over the front of Kessler’s shirt. And Kessler was holding his throat, his hands turning darker as he stared in disbelief. Logan laughed and raised his leg. Pushed with his boot.

  Kessler toppled over, almost in slow motion.

  Kate pressed a shaking hand over her mouth, feeling her anguish building. Just as her soul had wept when she’d had to cut the buckskin’s jugular and bright red blood had gushed over his chest.

  Images
transposed across her brain, and the green grass morphed into dark rock, colored with bone and blood and bodies. And even though she knew it was Logan’s triumphant voice talking into a headset, advising that he’d successfully taken out Kessler, it was Danny’s whimpers she heard, and the sound of tearing flesh as wolves ripped into a horse’s underbelly.

  Her hand fisted against her mouth and she squeezed her eyes shut. Keep it together. You are not on that mountain.

  But a man was dead and she could feel her body shutting down as the flashbacks took over.

  She was conscious of dropping and curling in a ball, eyes closed but still hearing voices. She tried to count. One, two, three...breathe. Didn’t want to think. Wasn’t sure if she’d see Danny again as he begged for his dad. When she’d lied and said help was on its way, and that everything would be all right. And how she’d sung to him until her throat was hoarse, soothing little nursery rhymes, the only songs she could remember.

  All she could do was struggle to breathe. And try not to think about dark things. Danny was gone but Courtney still needed help. Urgently. That knowledge kept her breathing and counting and breathing again until she managed to pry open her eyes.

  This time she didn’t see Danny, or the body of his father or the dead horses. Only Logan as he calmly wiped his knife on Kessler’s jeans, then shouldered the equipment, and walked away. He wasn’t headed back to camp, but toward his ugly gang of murderers. And that should be a relief because it would have been impossible to hide if he walked her way. But she didn’t feel relieved, didn’t feel anything but terrified.

  She rose. Stumbled toward Kessler’s prone body, her legs feeling like slabs of ice. She didn’t want to see him. Didn’t want to see his bloody throat. But maybe there was a slim chance, somehow, that she could help.

  His face was turned toward the blue sky, his eyes open. He looked almost peaceful in death, except for his surprised expression. And the gaping wound in his neck.