Shadows of the Mountain Read online

  “I’m riding Courtney’s horse,” Kate said. But she obligingly removed the jacket from her pack and pulled it back on. “You’re right. We better make sure they think I’m her.”

  She was so damn brave and didn’t realize he wasn’t worrying about Courtney. He just didn’t want a bullet in her back. They’d never shoot Kate if they thought she was the President’s daughter. But his gut churned and he hated that she was riding in the most vulnerable position.

  If Logan suspected Kate was a decoy, he’d have no qualms about picking her off. Based on the man’s sexual bragging, he viewed women as disposable. Called them job perks. A few times Jack had sensed something darker lurking behind Logan’s genial smile, even when he joked with Courtney.

  Jack twisted in the saddle. “You ride in front for a bit,” he said to Kate. “Set the pace.”

  “But don’t you want them to see Courtney’s horse? Her jacket?”

  “Not necessary. They’re locked on us now.” He busied himself with rearranging the lead ropes in his right hand. Didn’t want to admit he was letting emotion affect his judgment. Of course, Courtney was still his number one priority. Always would be. “We just need to cover ground,” he added. “Head for that ridge. We’ll switch horses on the other side.”

  “I know this area,” she said. “Trails crisscross from all directions. It’s a favorite spot for elk hunters. Monty’s horse has been here a lot.”

  Good, Jack thought, following her toward the ridge. They could ride most of the night. Let the horses pick their way home, nibbling grass as they walked. A hub of trails meant their trackers would have to wait for daylight.

  “Listen!” She swiveled in the saddle, her face bright with hope. “I hear engines. Maybe its four-wheelers from town.”

  “I don’t hear anything,” he said. But Slider was staring toward the ridge and seconds later the throb of motors drifted over the valley.

  “Let’s go,” she said, turning toward the sound. “They’ll help us.”

  “Wait!” Jack said, his voice urgent. “Hold the horses. I want to check first, just in case.”

  The hope in her face turned to dismay, and he hated that he’d put it there. But he needed to make sure. Logan had clearly planned Courtney’s abduction in great detail. It only made sense for the man to have ground support, and not rely solely on animals.

  Jack passed Kate his reins and left her holding the horses as he jogged up the ridge. He dropped several feet from the top then inched forward and cautiously raised his binoculars.

  He spotted three four-wheelers, big powerful machines all headed in the direction of their old camp. The lead driver stopped to study the ground, then spoke into a walkie, probably communicating with Logan. But what really gave Jack concern was the black sniper rifle strapped to the second driver’s back, proving that though it wasn’t hunting season, it was most certainly open season on humans.

  If the men had been riding horses instead of machines, their animals would have alerted them to their presence. As it was, he and Kate had almost galloped into them.

  He gripped the binoculars, his thoughts churning. The net was tightening. Clearly both groups of pursuers were in radio contact. And Monty and the mules could still be intercepted. If Logan discovered Courtney was actually headed south, he’d simply arrange for his four-wheelers to speed back to town, then circle around and nab her at the fire tower.

  Jack twisted, eyeing the mountains. It was still possible to buy Monty enough time. He and Kate would simply go where horses and four-wheelers couldn’t follow... Eagle Pass.

  He headed back to Kate, replacing his binoculars in the leather case while he jogged.

  “Those men are working for Logan,” he said, taking Banjo’s reins and forcing his voice to remain unruffled. “No problem. We’ll just climb higher.”

  “Climb? No, I think we should try to outrun them.”

  He shot Kate a wry smile. A horse couldn’t beat a four-wheeler but he was glad she was keeping her sense of humor.

  “Yes, we should run,” she went on, her voice strengthening. “And we’ll look for a stream. Or bog. Something that four-wheelers can’t cross.”

  “We have something they can’t cross.” He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “Those mountains. They can’t maneuver around us up there.”

  “Maybe we should split up. You climb, I’ll gallop. That way we have two chances to get help.”

  “No,” he said. “If they catch you, they’ll make you talk. That puts Courtney at risk.” And the idea of Kate being tortured made his gut churn. There was no way he was leaving her to face those men alone. They’d run her down in minutes.

  “We’ll switch horses now,” he said. “Make a hard run to the tree line on fresh animals. Then dismount and climb.”

  He pulled the bridle off Banjo, slipped it over the rope halter on Dusty, then waited for her to follow suit. But she struggled with switching her headstall from Oreo to Slider, obviously exhausted.

  He reached over her shoulder, helping to adjust the bridle over Slider’s ears. “A few more hours,” he said gently, “and it will be dark. We can rest then.”

  She just stared at Slider’s neck. He’d assumed she was exhausted but now he noted the paleness of her face, the tiny tremor around her mouth. Obviously she feared the searchers on the other side of the ridge. As did he.

  “As long as their engines are going,” he said, giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze, “they won’t hear our horses. Don’t worry. Even if they pick up our tracks, no four-wheeler will be able to follow us for long.”

  The pallor of her skin emphasized the reddened scratches from her earlier run through the trees. “And since we’ll be high above the tree line,” he teased, “you won’t have to worry about any more branches jabbing you in the face. We’ll be way too high for much to live.”

  “Great,” she said. “That eases my mind.”

  But she didn’t crack a smile. She just squared her shoulders and swung onto Slider’s back, her stoic expression reminding him of a soldier headed into battle...a battle she thought it highly unlikely to win.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  KATE STARED OVER SLIDER’S neck as the horse lowered his head and trotted up the steep slope. His breath came in puffs, his white mane a contrast against his sweat-darkened neck. But his ears were pinned forward, as if eager to carry her wherever she asked. Slider’s pricked ears looked small, almost deformed compared to a mule’s. His gait felt different too, more energetic, more trusting, as if he were keen to go forward...even into danger.

  Stop it. She tried to refocus on the elegant beauty of his graceful neck but her mind kept swerving back to the accident. It had been a horse—not a mule—who had pulled everyone off the ledge, leaving that pitiful tangle at the bottom of the cliff. And no matter how hard she fought, the memories bombarded her, filling her senses until she could no longer smell Slider’s sweat, the mountain heather or even the plentiful elderberry. She couldn’t smell anything but the metallic odor of blood, and the smell of singed flesh as she jammed at the wolves with the burning wood.

  Her knuckles whitened around the lead rope, but she didn’t dare look back. Didn’t want to accept that she was leading another horse, Courtney’s paint. So far, Oreo was behaving. Not pulling at the rope or crowding Slider. But neither of the two horses were used to mountain trails. Before today, they’d never even been ponied. The girls had insisted on riding them because of their color. What if Oreo was nervous and clipped Slider’s heels?

  She quickly slipped her feet from the stirrups, remembering how the man’s boot had been caught. He’d been still hung up in the saddle when she found him and the horse had been thrashing, frantic to escape the limp body stuck to his belly. Of course, the horse had essentially been dead too. All three horses were. She’d just made sure they didn’t suffer. And that the wolves didn’t bother them while they were alive.

  A groan escaped from deep in her throat. Slider flicked an ear, as if wondering
what was wrong. He was much braver than her, even though he had little experience with this type of trail. He was used to a fenced riding ring with every inch of smooth dirt groomed by a tractor. But he seemed to think that since she had saved him from the river, she could keep him safe anywhere.

  Foolish horse.

  A mule wasn’t like that. No one ever rode a mule to death. She’d never heard of a mule walking off a ledge either. They looked after themselves first, one of the reasons she preferred them to horses, especially when the going turned tough. And now she was riding a horse alongside a steep mountain, a place she’d promised herself she’d never walk again, let alone ride.

  Fortunately Jack was behind her and couldn’t see her sickened expression. Her gut was churning and, no doubt, her face was as white as Slider’s mane. She wouldn’t be surprised if her breakfast re-appeared.

  “I figure we have another hour until sundown,” Jack called. “Let’s stop up ahead and give the horses a breather.”

  It was asking for trouble to stop on a narrow ledge with four riderless horses who might fuss and mill around. She opened her mouth to protest but her throat was too dry to push out the words. But Slider slowed on his own, as if understanding Jack’s words. And then he wasn’t moving at all. His head was down and he was snatching hungrily at the grass.

  Grass, not rock.

  She glanced around, her sluggish brain accepting the trail wasn’t so narrow after all. In fact, they’d entered a high meadow dotted with pink mountain heather. A steep slope, to be sure, but she doubted any of the horses would be foolish enough to slide down.

  She peered over Slider’s right shoulder, tempted to dismount on the uphill side. Away from the slope. But he was used to riders mounting and dismounting from the left side, and she didn’t want to startle him. She could turn him around, point him in the other direction, but Oreo was behind her. And both horses were tired and hungry. Fiddling with their position would only cause frustration.

  Besides, now that she’d gathered enough nerve to peek down the slope, she could see it wasn’t too bad. No steeper than a black diamond run on a ski mountain. She just had to step down from the saddle and hope that Slider didn’t topple over on her. And that, like her, he wasn’t terrified of heights.

  Slider’s head was down though, busy grazing. He was probably thirsty and at least there’d be some moisture in the grass. He needed every precious minute to recharge. But she didn’t move, couldn’t, felt shackled to the saddle.

  This is for Courtney, she reminded herself. And Tyra and Monty and Kessler. It’s just a little step down.

  She sucked in a fortifying breath, flung her right leg over Slider’s back and forced herself to step down from the saddle. Seconds later, she was standing on firm ground. From the downhill side, Slider seemed ten inches taller but he remained stock still, contentedly munching at the grass. She scooted around his head, moving to the other side, hating that Jack might pick up on her phobia.

  But he’d already dismounted and stood beside his grazing horse, binoculars pinned to his eyes as he scanned the valley. He looked relaxed, assured, in control of the situation. And slowly her heart stopped its erratic thumping.

  “You’re a good boy,” she whispered, reaching out and scratching Slider’s sweaty neck. He continued grabbing at the grass. But his eye was on her, calm and respectful, attentive to her commands. She had no doubt he’d gallop down this steep mountainside if asked. He’d conquered his fear in the river...while hers was proving to be more stubborn.

  “I’m going to take a look from the other side of the tree line,” Jack said. “Watch the horses. Keep them ready to ride.”

  She nodded, deciding it was prudent not to loosen the horses’ cinches. Luckily there were no bits in their mouths. She and Jack had stopped riding with bridles an hour earlier, using only halters so the horses could grab bites of grass whenever possible. The lack of water was worrisome though. Horses colicked much easier than mules, and they were pushing these animals hard.

  Her thoughts jumped to the girls, wondering how they were making out with the mules and if Courtney’s migraine was better. That horrible Logan had certainly known how to anchor them. He must have deliberately exposed Courtney to gluten at breakfast, anticipating she’d be too sick to leave the tent. But both girls were proving surprisingly resilient. Logan had underestimated them. He probably never dreamed the mules could make it over such a rough section, or that Courtney and Tyra would be game enough to ride them through the thick brush.

  She stepped back to Oreo, knowing she needed to look after their own horses, their own situation.

  She checked each horse’s heaving flanks, calculating their rate of respiration. It was probably best to switch mounts again, although she much preferred riding Slider. So far, nothing bad had happened when she was on the palomino. And if Courtney and Tyra could navigate around bogs and deadfall, she could certainly ride along a mountain slope. This section wasn’t even that steep.

  Not like fifty feet above, where there was a rockslide and a confusion of animal trails, crisscrossing horizontally. Luckily Jack had been permitted to bring his phone and though there was no reception yet, he was able to access his downloaded maps. They could follow any of the trails rounding the base of the mountain. Monty’s horse, Banjo, didn’t even need a map. He’d been ridden in this area frequently, and the experienced horse would know the best routes.

  Slider lifted his head, staring down at a cluster of crooked fir trees, stunted and warped by the wind. Seconds later, Jack emerged, jogging easily up the slope.

  He was in remarkable shape. The men had always worn oversized shirts in Courtney’s presence, preferring to keep their handguns concealed, but Jack had peeled down to a T-shirt hours ago. Now his leather holster was clearly visible, draped over that big shoulder, drawing attention to his pecs and abs, those same washboard abs she’d first noticed in the dance hall.

  The physical attraction had certainly grown, at least from her perspective. That kiss last night had been unforgettable. Right now though, Jack’s mouth looked as hard as his body, and it didn’t appear as if kissing was on his mind. Of course it shouldn’t be on hers either.

  She gave a guilty start, yanking her gaze past him and checking their trail, wondering why he looked so grim. All she could see was the tree line.

  “Are they still following?” she asked.

  He gave a brief nod. His breathing wasn’t labored but it was certainly louder than usual. Until one scaled a steep hill on foot, it was easy to ignore how hard the horses were working. And how gamely they were carrying their riders.

  “They’re gaining,” Jack said. “But they’re killing their horses to do it. They’re down to five.”

  She grimaced. Logan had never shown much consideration for his horse, and clearly this was a life and death chase, for horses as well as humans.

  “Our boys are recovering okay,” she said brightly. “I just checked their vitals. As long as we can give them breaks and switch regularly, they’ll be fine. This trail we’re following isn’t bad. It’s just winding around the mountain, and the four-wheelers can’t get up here. So all we have to do is stay in front of Logan.”

  Jack just looked at her, not bothering to veil his expression. And it was apparent escape wouldn’t be so simple.

  “I can’t push Slider much harder,” she said, gesturing at the tired palomino. “Because he’ll go until he drops. Please, don’t ask me to do that.”

  “I don’t want to ride any horse into the ground,” Jack said. “But we can’t stay on this trail. The four-wheelers have split toward the ridge. They’ll cut us off within the hour. And they won’t hesitate to shoot our horses.”

  Kate felt the blood drain from her face. She’d thought they were home free. Hadn’t realized how simple it would be for the four-wheelers to charge ahead and cut them off. But Jack had. He was always so calm and analytical, unaffected by emotion. Already he was scanning the shale above them with assessing eyes. />
  “We’ll leave the horses and climb over that scree,” Jack said. “At least give the animals their own chance to escape. Hopefully they’ll run home and alert the ranch.”

  Kate glanced up at the rockslide, then yanked her head away. It was steep, marking the terrain above the tree line, and she didn’t want to picture the narrow ledges. She definitely didn’t want to abandon the horses. It didn’t seem right to take all their energy and then desert them to fend for themselves.

  “I don’t think we should leave them,” she said. “Banjo will just pick the shortest route, as the crow flies. There’s too many bogs and thick brush. And his saddle might get caught up in the trees. They wouldn’t have much of a chance.”

  “We’ll unsaddle them,” Jack said. “Keep the reins but hide the rest of the tack. With a little luck, Logan might even follow them for a bit.” He jabbed his thumb, the motion swift and authoritative. “We’ll stick the tack behind those boulders.”

  Kate’s hand tightened around the lead ropes. She was already intimidated at this height. No way could she climb higher. But Jack was already re-sorting items in his saddlebags.

  “Logan will shoot them as soon as he has a clear shot, with or without riders,” Jack went on. “This way the horses have a chance. And they need water.”

  Kate placed a reluctant hand on Slider’s shoulder. Everything Jack said was true. Slider raised his head and looked at her with trusting eyes. And she knew she had to do it. The horses had been so brave, so loyal. They deserved their own chance to live.

  “We should take off their halters too,” she said, surprised her voice was level. “Less chance of them being caught up in the brush.”

  Jack gave an approving nod. He already had the saddles whipped off and now began peeling halters.

  Kate slowly unfastened Slider’s halter. He waited politely then lowered his bare head and continued grazing. By now, Jack had four halters over his arm. He reached for Monty’s horse.