Gray, Ginna (23 page)

Augustus stomped toward the gun case in the corner. "Let's
break out your rifles, Walt. They're not taking my boy."

"No, Dad. No gunplay."

"Why not? We can take 'um, son. There's only fifteen or
sixteen of 'um and five of us. Except for Lauren, we're all crack shots."

"Then what? Trust me, Dad, you shoot one of those guys and
the Bureau will swoop down on this place with an army of agents. Lauren and I
will be killed and you'll all spend the next twenty years in prison. The only
chance we have is to get out of here."

"Okay, then, take my truck and go out the back road with the
lights off before they get close enough to the house to spot you," Augustus
ordered.

"Are you sure?"

"Just go, boy. Go on, get out of here. Now! Walt'n me'll deal
with these yahoos."

With Lauren in tow, Sam headed for the door. After only two steps
he hesitated, then swung back and snatched his father into a bear hug.
"Thanks, Dad. I..."

"I know, son. I know," Augustus said gruffly. "Now
go on with you. Git while you still can."

Father and son exchanged a long look, then Sam spun away, hauling
Lauren with him.

In the front hall, he scooped up the duffle bag on the run and tore
out the front door. Spanning Lauren's waist with his hands, he picked her up
and tossed her into the cab of the truck and slung the duffle in after her. He
eyed the line of approaching headlights as he raced around the pickup and
climbed behind the wheel. They were almost halfway down the driveway and moving
in fast.

The truck engine sprang to life at the first twist of the key,
which, as always, was in the ignition. Sam didn't bother to back up and follow
the driveway around back, but took off across the yard and his aunt's beloved
flowerbeds and careered around the corner of the house. Out back, once they
passed the barn and corrals they were in total darkness. Sam headed for the
woods that butted up to the ranch yard on the east, and Lauren made a distressed
sound.

"Oh Lord! We're going to crash into a tree!"

"Calm down, we're okay. I can see well enough in the
moonlight. Besides, I know every inch of these woods. There's a dirt road right
about...here." He jerked the steering wheel hard to the right. A low
hanging branch scraped the side of the truck and Lauren shrieked as the pickup
shot between two tall Cottonwood trees.

"Hold on," Sam advised. "This road isn't used much
and it's narrow and rough."

What little moonlight filtered down through the bare branches gave
only patchy illumination. As they bumped along through the darkness Lauren sat
forward and peered through the windshield, gripping the dash with one hand and
the edge of the seat with the other and moaning at every scrape and thunk
against the side of the pickup.

On the opposite side of the woods the dirt road continued through
a clearing for about twenty feet to a gated entrance from a two-lane, paved
back road. Sam brought the pickup to a slow stop at the edge of the woods and
sat in the darkness with the engine idling, scanning the area.

"Damn."

"What? What is it?" Lauren's anxious gaze darted around.

"There's a car watching this road."

"Where? I don't see anything."

"About fifty yards to your right. Parked in the shade of that
big spruce on the other side."

Leaning forward, Lauren peered through the darkness. "Are you
sure? I still don't see it."

"I'm sure."

"What do we do now?"

"One thing is certain. We can't stay here. If they don't
already have search warrants for this place and the Double R they will before
long. Somebody is probably waking up a judge right now. It'll be tomorrow
before Edward can get the manhunt called off. We have no choice but to make a
run for it."

Sam turned his head and looked at Lauren. Even through the
darkness he could see the fear in her eyes, but she met his gaze directly and
didn't make a sound. Unable to resist, he reached out and hooked his hand
around the back of her neck, pulling her to him as he leaned over and gave her
a deep, passionate kiss. He felt her pulse leap, then take off with a mad
thrumming that exactly matched his own thundering heartbeat.

When he was done he drew back just a few inches and looked deep
into her eyes. "Ready?"

She stared back at him, her eyes wide and glittering like green
glass in the darkness. Finally, sucking in a deep breath, she pressed her lips
tightly together, squared her shoulders and nodded.

"That's my girl." Sam planted another quick kiss on her
mouth, then straightened and gripped the steering wheel. "Hang on."

He gunned the engine, and they shot out of the trees. In seconds
they bumped over the cattle guard, hooked a skidding left and blasted down the
road. Only then did Sam turn on the lights.

"Brace yourself. Here they come."

Lauren twisted around in her seat and saw headlights where seconds
before there had been only blackness. As she watched, they grew steadily
larger. "Oh Lord, they're gaining on us, Sam!"

Sam made no reply. His profile looked as though it had been
chiseled in stone. He pressed the accelerator harder and the truck picked up
speed and for a moment the space between them and the car widened.

"They're catching up again!"

Grimly Sam pushed the accelerator pedal to the floor, and the
pickup streaked down the deserted highway like a bullet.

Lauren looked over her shoulder again. "They're not getting
any closer but they're staying with us," she reported.

Sam looked into the rearview mirror just as a flash of fire
appeared on the passenger's side of the pursuit car. At the same instant
something
thunked
against the pickup's tailgate and Lauren shrieked.

"Oh my Lord! They're shooting at us!"

She barely got the words out when the back window shattered.

"Get down! Get down!" Sam yelled. Steering with one
hand, he reached over and shoved her down onto the floorboard as another bullet
took out the side mirror on the passenger door.

Sam took what evasive measures he could, but going that fast he
couldn't risk swerving much or he'd roll the truck.

Huddled in a ball on the floor with her hands over her ears,
Lauren screamed and screamed as volley after volley of shots splatted against
the pickup and whined past.

"Holy—!"

Thirty feet ahead a small herd of mule deer exploded up out of the
bar ditch onto the road.

Sam jerked the wheel to avoid them. Veering onto the shoulder, the
pickup lifted up on two wheels and hung suspended even as it continued to move
forward. Cursing, Sam fought to bring it right again and Lauren screamed.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity but in reality could
have been no more than a few seconds, the truck's left tires slammed back down
onto the pavement, bounced twice, then regain purchase.

From behind them came a prolonged screech of tires on paving,
followed by a tremendous crash.

Lauren's head came up. "What was that?"

Sam's gaze flickered to the rearview mirror. "Our friends
just got a close-up look at the local wildlife."

"What? Wait! Listen! They've stopped shooting."
Cautiously she rose to her knees and peered through the shattered back window.
"Oh, my goodness. I don't believe it! They've crashed! The car is in the
bar ditch with its headlight pointing skyward. And there's something strewn
across the highway. I think...it looks like dead animals. I don't see any sign
of those men."

She turned to Sam, her face joyous. "We've done it. We've
gotten away!"

"Yeah, well...don't get too excited. I'm sure they called in
our position to the rest of the team. There'll be more agents coming along any
second."

"But we have a head start. Surely they won't be able to catch
us."

"Well... that... that depends."

"On what?"

"On whether or not...you can drive a...truck."

"Me? Why should I—Sam! What're you doing? Why are you slowing
down?"

The pickup rolled to a stop in the center of the road. Feebly, Sam
managed to shove the gearshift into Park an instant before he slumped over the
wheel.

"Sam!"
Lauren swept aside the
pebbles of glass and scrambled up onto the seat next to him. "Sam? Sam,
what's wrong?" She grabbed his shoulders and tried to pull him upright,
but when Sam moaned she quickly stopped. "Oh Lord, Sam, talk to me."

His eyes flickered open and he grimaced at her. "S-sorry,
babe...but I've...I've been...shot."

"Shot! No!
No!"
Lauren cried.

Terror clawed at her. Panic-stricken, she ran her hands over Sam's
shoulders and upper arms, his back. "Where? Where are you hurt? Tell me,
Sam!" she demanded. "Talk to me!"

His only reply was a moan. She wasn't even certain he was still
conscious.

"Oh, Sam." Her fingers encountered something wet and
sticky. Lauren drew her hand away and sucked in a sharp breath. Her palm was
covered with blood. "Oh God. Oh God. Oh God."

She pressed her lips tightly together and fought to quell the
bubble of hysteria rising in her throat. Glancing around, she saw that a mile
or so behind them the lights of the wrecked car still shot skyward like a
spotlight. Other than that, there was no sign of human life—or help—in sight.

She ground her teeth. No, don't think of it that way. Look on the
bright side. At least there was no sign of those men's cohorts. Yet.

That thought brought a low moan from her throat, and she had to
fight back another wave of panic. What was she going to do? Think, Lauren.
Think!
They had to get out of there. And fast. But first she had to tend to Sam.
If she didn't stop the bleeding quickly he would surely die.

After fumbling around she located the switch for the overhead
light and flipped it on. Kneeling on the seat beside Sam, she pulled him
upright. He moaned again and his eyes flickered open. "Gotta...get
outta... here," he mumbled.

"I know. I know. But let me do this first."

"You're...you're gonna ha...have to...drive."

"I know that, too. But I warn you, I've never driven a pickup
before."

"N-nothin' to it. You'll...do fine, swe-sweetheart."
Sam's words were slurred, and at the end his voice trailed off and he slumped
back against the seat and went limp.

"Sam?
Sam!"

He didn't reply. Lauren put her ear to his chest and sagged with
relief when she heard his heart beating. Working quickly, straining and
panting, she stripped off his parka and eased him forward until he was braced
against the steering wheel. One look at his back made her stomach roil and sent
her terror skyrocketing anew. Blood soaked his shirt all the way to the
waistband on his wool pants.

Breathing hard and making unconscious, little distressed sounds,
Lauren pawed through the duffle bag and pulled out a pair of long johns, then
snatched Sam's shirt free of his pants and shoved it up to his shoulders. Bile
rose in her throat at the sight of blood oozing from an obscene hole just above
his shoulder blade.

Quickly she folded the body of the long johns into a thick pad and
pressed it tightly against the wound. Struggling and straining to reach around
Sam's inert body, she used the legs of the garment to tie the makeshift bandage
in place.

When done, she sat back on her heels with a sigh of exhaustion and
surveyed her handiwork. It wasn't the neatest bandage she'd ever seen, but it
seemed to have stanched the flow of blood. Sam needed a clean shirt, but there
was no time for that.

Lauren pulled the bloodied shirt back down and worked first one,
then the other of his arms back into his parka and brought him upright again
with his back propped against the seat back.

"Sam? Sam, can you hear me?" She gave his cheek a sharp
tap, then another. "Wake up, Sam. You have to help if I'm going to scoot
you over. I can't budge you on my own."

Sam's eyelids fluttered twice, then opened partway. His eyes were
out of focus, and she could see that just remaining conscious required
tremendous effort. "Ri-right."

Lauren put her arms around Sam's waist and pulled with all her
might as he did his best to scoot sideways. It took a tremendous effort and
caused him a lot of pain, but finally she maneuvered him to the other side.

"Are you okay?" she gasped.

"Y-yeah. Let's...go."

Lauren jumped out of the cab, ran around to the other side and
climbed into the driver's seat. Gripping the steering wheel tightly, she darted
Sam a nervous glance. "Here goes," she said and stomped on the gas.

Smoke and the smell of burning rubber rose as the tires squealed
and spun on the asphalt paving. Then the truck leaped forward and shot down the
road, going from zero to eighty-five miles an hour in ten seconds flat.

Lauren had little experience driving any vehicle, and compared to
her car, the truck seemed enormous and awkward to handle. She held the wheel
with a white-knuckled grip and concentrated fiercely on keeping the pickup
between the faded center stripe and the bar ditch. Using the duffle bag to keep
himself propped upright, Sam fought to stay conscious.

After a few miles the road intersected a main highway. "Turn
right...here," Sam gasped. "And slow...down. We don't want to...get
stopped for...speeding."

Lauren gritted her teeth and did as he ordered, but it was
difficult. Instinct urged her to floorboard the gas pedal and put as many miles
between them and their pursuers as possible. At that hour there were few
vehicles on the road, and as she drove through the darkness Lauren had the
eeriest feeling that she had somehow entered an alien world.

"Where are we going?" she asked when she could stand the
silence no longer. She received no answer.

"Sam?" She glanced at him and saw that his eyes were
closed and he lay slumped against the passenger door. Fear shot through her.
"Sam? Are you still with me?"

Still no reply.

"Sam? Sam, wake up! Answer me!"

The only sounds were the engine's steady rumble and the rhythmic
thump-thump
of the tires on the highway. Another vehicle passed the truck, and Lauren
jumped at the unexpected
whoosh
when it went by. She moaned and bit her
lower lip. What in heaven's name was she supposed to do now?

She couldn't just drive around aimlessly, and she had no idea how
to find that hunting cabin Sam had mentioned earlier. Besides, he needed
medical attention.

Lauren choked back a hysterical sob. How she was going to manage
that she had no idea. If she took him to a hospital or a doctor they would have
to report the gunshot to the police, and if that happened she and Sam were as
good as dead.

It was after midnight and she had no idea where she was, but the
lights of a town glowed up ahead. Staring at twinkling lights, she came to a
decision.

A highway sign identified the town as Monticello, Utah. Lauren
stopped at the first motel she found and rented a room using Sam's bogus credit
card, praying all the while she registered that the sleepy clerk wouldn't
recognize her or ask too many questions.

She parked the pickup as close to the room as she could and
somehow managed to rouse Sam enough to pull him from the cab. Holding his good
arm looped around her shoulders she wrapped her other arm around his waist and
staggered inside with him, nearly collapsing under his weight before falling
with him, facedown, onto the bed.

Lauren scooted off the bed and dashed back out to the truck for
the duffle bag, then dashed back inside and bolted and chained the door. After
turning up the heat she noticed that Sam still hadn't moved or made a sound.
She went to the bed and touched his shoulder. "Sam? Are you okay?"

He gave no response. She quickly checked his pulse and peeled back
his eyelids and realized that he had passed out again. Just as well, she
thought, considering what she had to do.

Fighting fatigue and fear, Lauren tried to think logically. The
first and most important thing was to clean Sam's wound before infection set
in. That would probably start the bleeding again, but she'd just have to deal
with that.

It was almost one in the morning. Where was she going to get the
bandages and medicine she needed? From the looks of things when she'd driven
into town the sidewalks of Monticello had been rolled up hours ago. Looking at
Sam's prone form, she gnawed her bottom lip. Did she dare risk leaving him
alone long enough to drive around and look for an all-night drugstore? She pulled
the keys from her parka pocket and fingered them, debating. Suddenly she
snapped her fingers.

The truck! Why hadn't she thought of that before? Surely a
rancher, or anyone who did physical outdoor work, would keep a first-aid kit
handy.

Lauren unbolted the door and dashed back outside. Sure enough,
behind the passenger seat in the extended cab section of the truck she found a
large plastic box with a red cross on the top.

"Bless you, Augustus," she murmured fervently, and
hurried back inside.

After considerable struggle she managed to strip Sam to the waist
and remove his holster and gun. Slipping her hand beneath his chest, she felt
for an exit wound but found none. Lauren groaned. The bullet was still inside.

Trying not to think about that, she washed his wound, then his
entire back with warm, soapy water and a washcloth. When done, she leaned close
and examined the hole and grimaced. The puckered edges were an angry red rimmed
with gray and still oozed blood. She swabbed the area with the washcloth again
and noticed that inside the hole there were tiny fragments of cloth and fiber
from his clothing. Lauren frowned. That couldn't be good.

To her relief, in addition to the usual gauze pads, cotton balls
and bandages, the first-aid kit contained a pair of tweezers, alcohol, iodine,
a tube of antibiotic cream, a burn pack and even surgical needles and suture
thread. The last items made Lauren shudder and marvel at the toughness of
cowboys.

In the bathroom she poured alcohol over the tweezers then returned
and knelt on the bed beside Sam. Biting her lower lip, she hesitated, her
shaking hand poised over the ugly wound. "You can do this, Lauren. You
have
to do this." Closing her eyes, she said a quick prayer, then drew a
deep breath and bent closer.

Sam moaned as she plucked out the first bit of cloth, and Lauren
moaned right along with him. For the next ten minutes, in between swabbing away
blood, she plucked and pulled and probed and tried not to gag. When she'd
finally removed all the debris she swabbed away the blood once again and gently
spread the edges of the hole a bit wider, drawing another groan from Sam.

Lauren peered into the wound, but she didn't see anything that
looked like a bullet. She knew it should come out, but there was no way she was
going to go digging around in there. She might do more harm than good.

"I'm sorry, Sam, but this is the best I can do," she
murmured as she twisted the cap off the iodine bottle and poured a liberal
amount of the brownish/orange antiseptic over the area.

Sam's head jerked up off the pillow. "Jesus! Wh-what're
you... doing?"

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry," Lauren cried. "I'm just trying
to doctor your wound. Lie still now, while I finish."

The order was unnecessary. As she spread the edges of the hole
once again and squeezed almost a half a tube of antibiotic cream inside he
passed out. Lauren covered the wound with a thick wad of gauze pads and taped
them in place.

Sighing, she sat back on her heels. Suddenly, in delayed reaction,
she began to tremble from head to toe. She hugged her arms around her midriff
and rocked back and forth on her knees. "Please don't let him die. Please,
God, please," she murmured over and over. "I couldn't bear it."

And not simply because she depended on him to protect her, Lauren
realized, but because the idea of living without Sam Rawlins was too painful to
contemplate. As unlikely as it seemed, as foolish as it undoubtedly was, she
had fallen in love with this tough, taciturn, complicated man.

Lauren moaned and rocked harder and called herself all manner of
uncomplimentary names, from weakling to imbecile to pathetic, but it made no
difference. She loved him. Deeply, irrevocably.

When her shakes finally subsided and she had herself under
control, she sighed again and wiped the sweat from her brow with her forearm
and gazed at Sam and the awkward bandage on his back. It looked a stark white
against his bronze skin. She climbed from the bed and tugged off Sam's
moccasins, then pulled the covers up over him.

Well, she'd done all she could, she thought tiredly. Now she would
just have to wait and hope that by morning he'd be feeling better.

Exhausted, Lauren stripped out of her clothes, took a quick shower
and climbed into the room's other bed. The instant her head touched the pillow
she fell into a deep sleep. A couple of hours later she jerked awake.

"What? Who—?" She sprang upright in the bed and looked
around, disoriented. Then, in the sliver of moonlight slanting in through the
gap in the motel draperies, she saw Sam, and everything came rushing back. In a
flash she realized what had awakened her. Sam was groaning and thrashing around
violently.

In an instant Lauren was on her feet. "Sam? Sam, be still.
You're going to hurt yourself worse. You'll have your wound bleeding again if
you don't stop that."

For all the attention he paid she might as well have talked to the
wall. She reached out, intending to stroke his back, but at the first touch she
sucked in her breath. "Oh Lord, Sam, you're burning up."