Page 93 of Dark Sky

Although they’d spooked a few mule deer who had come to water in the creek, they’d seen no sign of her dad or the hunting party. All of the two-day-old horse tracks on the trail were going up the mountain, and none of them were coming down.

She felt movement behind her and Nate clicked his tongue to move Gin along into a faster walk. As he pulled next to her—Nate had learned Gin was a good horse but she needed extra goosing to move along—his head was turned away from her toward the wooded slope to their left. He’d obviously seen something she’d missed.

“What’s up?” Sheridan asked.

“Let me get ahead of you. We’ve got company.”

The words sent a secondary chill through her that had nothing to do with the temperature. She sat back in her saddle to signal to Rojo that he should slow down. He obeyed, even though his natural inclination was to keep ahead of other horses who were trying to overtake him.

“What do you see?” she asked Nate. She studied the wooded slope as well. The early-morning sun had not yet penetrated the timber up there.

“Don’t stare,” Nate said softly as he cut in front of her. “Just ride along as if we don’t know they’re there.”

“As if we don’t knowwho’sthere?”

“At least two riders.”

“How far away are they?”

“They’re right above us.”

Sheridan had learned to trust Nate’s uncanny observational skills. He always seemed to see things before anyone else could.

She eyed him as he slipped his right hand up and gently unzipped his jacket. The grip of his .454 Casull was within easy reach under his left arm, but it was concealed from outside view.

—

I think I see them,” Sheridan whispered a few minutes later.

Two horsemen were threading their way through the trees toward the bottom of the drainage. She caught glimpses of them between dark trunks. As they got closer, she could hear the tick of hooves striking loose scree.

“Damn it. I don’t think either one is my dad,” Sheridan said sourly.

“Hey there,” the lead rider called out. “Good morning.” He sounded cheery.

“Hello,” Nate called back. He pulled Gin to a stop. Sotto voce, he said to Sheridan, “Stay to my side, keeping me in the middle between you and them. If shooting starts, you need to make sure to slide off that horse and find cover. Don’t give them a clear shot at you.”

“Oh, God,” Sheridan whispered.

While she appreciated Nate looking out for her, this was more than she was prepared for. She glanced at the rifle in her saddle scabbard and hoped she wouldn’t have to pull it out and try to remember how it worked. She’d fired lever-action weapons at targets before, so she thought she could handle it. But for further assurance, she patted the solid weight of the .38 revolver in her parka pocket.

The two horsemen emerged from the timber in an easy walk. They didn’t seem to be trying to be either stealthy or in a rush. The lead horseman was a bulky man in his midfifties with a wide, round face and a growth of silver stubble. He wore a battered short-brimmed cowboy hat, a heavy canvas barn coat, and lace-up outfitter boots. He looked comfortable in the saddle.

Something stirred in her. He looked familiar, she thought. She’d seen him, or a photo of him, before somewhere. She wasn’t sure, but she knew he’d been dressed much differently than he was now. Sheridan tried to recall where it had been.

Behind him was a smaller, younger, and darker man. He had a pinched expression, as if he were annoyed or in some kind of pain. The smaller one exuded menace, she thought. He appeared to be dangerous and tightly coiled. The hair on the back of her neck stood up.

Both were heavily armed. Rifle butts jutted up from saddle scabbards and the older man had a holster strapped to his right hip. She couldn’t see any handguns on the younger man, but he wore a bulky coat that could hide them. A long leather knife sheath ran the length of his thigh. She caught a glimpse of a bone handle on the knife.

“We didn’t expect to run into anyone up here,” the older man said to Nate. He displayed a boxlike smile that revealed yellow teeth. His flat, beady eyes were disconnected from the smile on his mouth, though.

He continued in a jaunty tone. “How are you folks doing out here on this cold fall morning? You doin’ all right?”

“We’re fine,” Nate said. “We really didn’t expect to run into anyone, either.”

She noticed as Nate spoke that he subtly squeezed his legs so Gin would know to take a step ahead. He was keeping himself between the horsemen and her as a barrier.

“I’m Earl Thomas and this is my son Kirby,” the older man said. “We’re outfitters based between Saddlestring and Shell. We’ve got clients coming in later this week, so we’re up here scouting for elk. What brings you and your daughter up here?”

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