Page 46 of Rabid

“Any more words of wisdom?” she asked.

“Stay alive. He will be armed. Maybe not with a gun, but he’ll have something. He’s not thinking right either. Be prepared for anything.”

“Yes, Grandpa,” Willow said.

“Smartass,” he said but she saw the pride he felt when she called him that.

Dale carried the backpack, and Willow had two water bottles in the pockets of a pair of pants she’d taken from her grandmother’s closet. She’d never gotten around to buying her own things because Joan’s fit, and there were enough to last her for years.

“You know where we are, don’t you?” Willow asked after looking around.

“We’re five miles past my place. I worked this area, remember?”

She nodded. The landscape was not as nice as her grandmother’s property. The brush was mostly brown, and there weren’t as many cedar trees, mostly shaggy-bark. It was also rockier. Good hiking boots were something Dale made her order online. Her grandmother’s worked, but he said sheneeded a new pair that was the perfect size. She had been using them, and they felt good on her feet.

They set off at a slow pace, watching for footprints.

“He covers his prints whenever possible. His family likely hunted. He won’t be as careful out here, though.”

It took three hours.

Willow called out from ten feet away.

“He came through here,” she said.

Dale smiled. “Good job,” he said with obvious appreciation. "Now the hunt begins.”

Chapter Thirty-Five

Footprinted Evil

The tracks disappeared into a narrow canyon, flanked by sheer rock walls and a scattering of jagged stones underfoot. Retracing their steps, they searched in vain, unable to pick up the trail again. By late morning, their growling stomachs made them pause to eat.

“Yum, my favorite,” Willow said as Dale took the sandwiches from the backpack and handed her one.

“Your face says that’s a lie, and you made the damn things,” he accused good-naturedly.

“It was the only lunch we had in prison. Breakfast and dinner weren’t much better, but at least it wasn’t sandwiches.” She noticed him shakehis head. “I couldn’t think of anything else to bring. Could you do better?”

He chuckled. “I would have made peanut butter and jelly instead of turkey.”

“Ugh, that’s worse.”

“I’m a simple man,” he teased.

Willow had packed chips and two cookies apiece. They ate in silence, watching the surrounding landscape. Crows flew overhead, reminding Willow of something Dale had said the first time she commented on them.

“Ravens are protected out here, and there’s a heavy fine for harming one. The way to tell the difference between a raven and a crow is simple. If it’s sitting on a fence, it’s a raven. If it’s flying overhead, it’s a crow.”

Dale loved to share these tidbits about living in the high desert. He was a good teacher, though sometimes, like with the crows, she didn’t know if he was teasing or not. She had no intention of shooting ravens or crows, so she didn’t dig deeper.

The ranch held a beauty Willow was only beginning to truly appreciate. With each step she explored, her connection to the land deepened, and she found herself falling in love with it more and more. She began to understand the reverence her grandmother had for this place and cherished the stories passed down about its history. Yet, beneath its breathtaking allure lay an unforgiving harshness and a deadly beauty Willow waslearning to respect.

Their lunch break ended, and they started tracking again. Two hours later, Dale called it off.

“Don’t look so disappointed,” he said. “I promised Louisa we’d be back before dark, and we have several hours of hiking before we reach the truck. I don’t want that woman on my bad side. We’ll drive a bit farther tomorrow and start again. He’s out here, and we’ll find him.”

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