Page 67 of Death Valley

“Then you two go back,” Aubrey says with steely determination. “Jensen and I will continue on.”

I give the others a pointed look. “Well. It’s your choice. You can come with or go back. I won’t judge what you need to do.”

“You’re seriously going on to Benson Hut?” Red demands, stepping toward me with challenge in his stance. “After what we found in the snow? After Hank’s blood trail leading into those trees? Are you out of your goddamn mind, McGraw?”

“Never felt more sane,” I volley back, my shoulders rising. “You want to give up and go back, that’s fine with me. But we’re going and hopefully we can find Hank along the way.”

Cole lets out a bitter laugh. “So much for not judging! So what, we’re the cowards that rode home so you can play hero? Fuck that. Hey, maybe I’ll run into Marcus when I’m back at the ranch, let him know what you’re getting paid.”

The tension in the room ratchets higher, the fear and anger of the past night boiling to the surface. I see Eli shift his weight to stand between me and Red.

The confrontation hovers on a knife’s edge?—

Then a sound stops us cold. A heavy pounding on the cabin door, three solid blows that reverberate through the room.

We all freeze. Eli reaches for his shotgun, leveling it at the door.

“Who the hell…” Red whispers.

The pounding comes again, more insistent this time.

I move cautiously toward the door, my own pistol drawn now. “Who’s there?” I call, voice tight with tension.

“It’s me, boss! Open up! It’s colder than a witch’s tit out here!”

That voice. Impossible, but unmistakable.

“Hank?” I call out, disbelief making my voice crack.

“Course it’s me! Who the hell else would be out in this frozen wasteland? Now open the damn door before my balls fall off!”

I glance back at the others, their faces mirroring my shock. Slowly, keeping my gun at the ready, I slide back the bolt and crack open the door.

Hank stands on the porch, snow crusted on his boots and pants, nose red from cold, but otherwise looking perfectly fine. Unharmed. Whole.

And maybe a little annoyed.

“Jesus Christ, finally,” he mutters, pushing past me into the warmth of the cabin. “Thought y’all were gonna leave me out there to freeze.”

The room erupts in exclamations—Cole and Red surrounding Hank with questions, Eli hanging back with open suspicion, Aubrey watching the scene with wide, confused eyes.

“Where the hell have you been?” I demand, shutting the door and securing the bolt. “We searched for you last night. Found your blood trail leading into the trees.”

Hank blinks at me, then laughs—a harsh sound that raises the hair on my arms. “Blood trail? What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Red snaps. “You’ve been missing since last night. We thought you were dead.”

“Not dead, just drunk,” Hank says with a dismissive wave. “Found a bottle of vodka in the bathroom cupboard, finished it off during my watch. Must’ve passed out in the outhouse. Woke up half-frozen but otherwise fine.”

I exchange a look with Eli. This doesn’t add up. We checked the outhouse. Multiple times. And the blood we found was fresh, clearly visible in the snow.

“We saw the blood, Hank,” I say carefully, watching his face. “Drag marks leading into the trees.”

Something flickers in Hank’s eyes—too quick to identify, gone before I can be sure I saw anything at all. “Know nothing about that,” he says with a shrug. “But I did see a mountain lion earlier in my watch. Big bastard. Scared him off by waving myself around like an idiot. Maybe he bagged a deer after that.”

“A mountain lion,” Eli repeats, skepticism heavy in his tone. “Same one that stalked Aubrey at Cedar Creek?”

“Could be,” Hank says, moving to the fire and extending his hands toward the warmth. “Probably. Who knows? You see one cat, you seen ’em all.”

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