Page 50 of River Justice

“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.

HOLLYJOCOULDhear 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,WIPEYOURFACE,” the kidnapper snapped and tossed her a dirty rag he’d picked up off the floorboard of the truck. “You’re a mess.”

Only minutes ago, he’d jumped out of the pickup, leaving it running, and rushed toward her through the golden haze of the headlights. Holly Jo had tried to get up and run, but she’d known it was useless. There was nowhere she could go to get away from him. The woman was dead. She feared that if she fought him, he’d kill her, too.

He’d grabbed her, half dragging her to the truck and shoving her into the passenger seat. “Move and so help me...” He’d slammed the door.

She could feel blood running down her leg. Her clothes were filthy, but also torn and bloody. Her arms were scraped, and the top she wore was torn like her jeans. Her leg hurt bad, but that wasn’t why she hadn’t been able to stop crying when he’d caught her. She’d almost gotten away. Maybe if she hadn’t fallen...

The real pain made her chest ache. What if she never got another chance to escape before he killed her, too?

As he drove through the darkness, she took the smelly rag and wiped at the snot from crying from her face. Then she dabbed at her bleeding leg. He didn’t seem to notice as he gripped the wheel, mumbling to himself. She could feel the tension coming off him in waves. Her fear heightened with each dark mile they traveled. In the side mirror, she saw that her forehead was also bleeding. She wiped at it with the disgusting rag.

“Spit on the rag,” he ordered her. “You’re missing this whole side of your face. Use the side mirror.”

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