Page 89 of Recurve Ridge

“On your left.” Will edged around me. Sandy-brown hair flopped over one eye as he shot me a cheeky grin and dove off the cliff of death. His bike bounced on a slab of granite and disappeared over the next low rise, the sharp report of his exhaust heading down the mountainside.

Jesus fucking Christ.

The kid was a daredevil, and I was a crotchety old man. Shit, if boredom filled his brains, then I needed to give him something better to do on his nights off.

Kidding. We never took nights off.

I revved the bike and followed his path, bouncing across the hard slabs. My tire sank into a concealed layer of peat moss as I followed him over the rise. Minutes later I parked my bike at the bottom of the hill on the well-maintained dirt road that bordered the northern edge where my land met Gideon’s.

Well maintained because I made sure we kept it that way, for a multitude of reasons.

The picket line had devolved into a bedraggled cluster of campsites scattered around the foothills of the ridge filled with haggard, rugged-up civilians. I counted maybe thirty heads milling about. Recluse I might have become, but if this was what Brandon considered small, I’d hate to see what a big protest looked like.

I sought out the balding head above the blue puffer jacket Brandon favored. His height and glowing dome made him an all-too-easy target. Rheumy sky-blue eyes lit up. He dashed to my side, speed belying his age.

Mind, after that trick at the top of the hill,sprightlymight never describe me again.

Will gave us a short wave from where he was kneeling beside a man with a makeshift bandage wrapped around his ribs. My leg cramped, but not as bad as my ass. I swept one boot over the bike seat and stretched.

“What happened?” I asked.

“Three were sent off to Mount View Hospital. A few more went home. Quitters,” he muttered under his breath, but there was little animosity in his tone. “No police turned up, though.”

“Funny that.”

Fucking hilarious.

I swiped my hand across my mouth as I searched the clusters of people talking in muted voices, noting the absence of several figures in particular.

“Where are the men Gideon sent?”

Brandon gestured into the trees behind a huddle of people in the opposite direction from the one we came from. Most were twenty years the junior of those in Brandon’s picket line and underdressed for the conditions. My lip quirked. I knew what his next words would be before he said them.

“Over there—well, they were over there.” Brandon rubbed a hand over more than a day’s growth on his chin. “Damnit. I wanted you to talk to them.”

I nodded, keeping my thoughts to myself. These people weren’t anything more than social activists working toward a goal that looked good on paper. Their cause hadn’t riled Gideon enough to send a small army down the ridgeline. Whatever the men he sent did, Brandon stayed. How bad could it be?

But I knew better and glanced into the trees above for the telltale glint of a scope. One hand poked out of foliage in a thumbs-up to disappear just as fast. I disguised a laugh as a hasty cough behind my fist and turned back to Brandon.

“I know I gave you permission to protest here, old friend.” I held his gaze as he nodded. “But that time has passed. It will be safer for all of you if you leave now. Send me all the information you have, along with your costs, and I’ll try to secure resources and votes for your cause in other ways.”

Brandon reached around me and squeezed me between long, lean arms. “We worry about you, Robe. And your boys up there. Take care of him.”

This last was directed at Will, who joined us, offering a hug Brandon returned, gratitude clear in his wide smile and crinkled eyes.

Brandon hesitated, his mouth open, though he didn’t say anything further. I set my teeth in a hard line. The old man had no idea how close his people had come to losing their lives today.

If his group were any smaller, the casualties would have been much worse, or Will and I might have found a campsite filled with bodies. Their number saved him; that, and his setup on my land, not on the other side of the road.

Swallowing down my fury at Gideon’s assault, I returned the embrace with care. “You, too, old man.”

Brandon gave me a mini salute and trotted off, rounding up his members. Within an hour, a few posters and a large patch of disturbed ground were all that remained of their protest.

If Gideon had a problem with that, or his missing men, he was welcome to chat with me any time.

24

MARI

---