Rattled (24 page)

The horse tossed his head and whinnied, jerking backward. Erin clung to his mane with both hands and almost lost her footing as he dragged her with him.

It took her a moment to realize the horse wasn’t backing away from her. She looked over and saw the man with the gun, coming into the clearing.

Drew poured himself a cup of coffee. Lightning boomed, close enough to rattle the windows of the small office building. Rain clattered on the tin roof. Drew moved to the window and frowned out at the street, which was quickly turning to mud. He’d been stuck in a meeting and hadn’t even known how bad the weather was getting until he heard the rain on the roof. He hoped the storm hadn’t reached Erin and Camie yet. Maybe it would burn itself out over the mountain.

It was insane to fly a helicopter in a lightning storm, so he was stuck there until it passed. Stuck there worrying, while the woman he cared about might be in trouble. He didn’t like that at all. The moment the storm slowed, he’d take off and find them. Surely in weather like this they’d agree to put off their search and go back to town for a while.

A crack of lightning lit the street outside. Water poured down as if someone was dumping a bucket off the roof. Weather this intense couldn’t last long. Once it eased off, he’d be out of there and back to the search site. He just hoped Erin and Camie had found someplace safe to hide until he arrived

Erin leaned against the horse, weak with fear. The man stood only 50 feet away, grinning, gun out.

The horse snorted and shifted under her, warm and real. She closed her eyes a moment. She wanted to give up, but she couldn’t hesitate now. She bent her knees and jumped, gripping the horse’s mane in her left hand while her right arm reached over his back. She got her chest over his back and braced herself with her elbow, wriggling forward. The horse shied under her and the ground tilted crazily as her head dropped toward it.

She swung her right leg over his rump and belly flopped on his back, squeezing with her legs. She snatched at his mane with her right hand, crying out as pain flamed through her broken finger. Tears sprang to her eyes and blurred her vision, but she could still see the thug running forward.

Erin squeezed with her thighs and pushed herself forward on the horse’s back. The man was five feet away, reaching out.

The horse reared up with a shrill whiny. Erin squeezed with the entire length of her legs, leaned forward to wrap her arms around the horse’s neck, and hung on.

The horse’s front feet came down with a thud that jolted Erin’s spine. He took off running. Erin clung, still wrapped tight around him. She forced herself to open her eyes and saw the trees looming up ahead. She gasped and pressed her cheek against the horse’s neck, telling herself that of course the horse would have sense enough to dodge.

The crack of a gunshot split the air.

A branch shattered a moment before they passed under it. Splinters of wood rained onto Erin’s back, pricking her skin like hot thorns.

They burst out of the trees onto the plateau.

Erin held on with aching arms. Her stomach sloshed with the movement of the horse, and she could barely breathe, so tight was her chest pressed against his back. The ground flew past under her gaze in a jolting blur. Erin squeezed her eyes shut and tried not to be sick.

Her arms and legs trembled with strain. Her lower body bounced backward, stretching across the horse’s back until her spine threatened to pull apart. What if she couldn’t hold on? How long could the horse keep running? Surely he would tire. But which direction were they headed? She could be getting farther from help, rather than closer.

The canyon. Would the horse have sense enough to swerve if he saw it, or would he keep running in blind panic?

She had to sit up. She had to see. She pulled with her arms, ignoring the pain in her finger, the trembling exhaustion of her muscles. She tucked her feet against the horse’s flanks and tried to push herself forward. Slowly she forced herself up into a more normal seated position. The horse seemed to be flying over the ground. Without stirrups, she could only squeeze with her legs. Her thighs ached and the tender flesh in between bounced over the horse’s hard spine. The horse’s sweat soaked into her pants.

She clung to the horse’s mane and tried to get her bearings. For a moment nothing looked familiar. Then she realized the mountain above Silver Valley had disappeared behind the dark clouds. She spotted the gash of the canyon ahead, the canyon that led straight to Silver Valley. The horse was heading directly toward it.

She had to get the horse under control. She had to be ready to jump, if she couldn’t stop the horse before he reached the canyon rim. She pulled back on his mane, but the horse didn’t seem to notice. Without a bit in his mouth, she had no way to get his attention. Erin wondered if she should jump off now. But the ground looked so far away. If she didn’t kill herself in the fall, she might break a bone or crash into a patch of cactus. An accident could prevent her from getting help. Besides, she hated to think of this beautiful beast plummeting to his death. She’d dragged him into this and she had a responsibility to get him out.

Erin took a shuddering breath. She reached forward with one hand and stroked it down the horse’s neck. “All right, big guy. We’re okay now. You got us out of there, you hero. Now it’s time to slow down.” She kept talking, trying to pitch her voice loud enough that the horse could hear over his own thundering hooves, but low enough to be soothing. She tried not to think about the canyon ahead or the goon behind, but only about radiating love and comfort to the horse. She knew some horses responded to human emotions on an almost psychic level. Others didn’t. She could only hope she’d gotten lucky with this one and pray that the intensity of her need would count for more than the amount of time they’d known each other.

Was it working? Was he really slowing, or was she just getting used to the pace? She leaned out to see ahead better. The dark scar of the canyon slashed across their path no more than 100 feet away. Erin’s hands tightened convulsively in the horse’s mane and she sucked in a breath. Then she forced herself to keep talking calmly, even as she tried to shift her weight and figure out how she could dismount from a moving horse.

The horse snorted and abruptly switched to a trot. Erin bounced against the horse’s neck and then nearly tumbled backward, thrown off balance by the sudden change. When she’d righted herself, she leaned forward and hugged his neck. “Oh, good boy! Aren’t you an angel!”

Erin looked back toward the clump of trees. She could still see a small dark figure gazing after them. “Probably sorry I didn’t fall off and break my neck,” Erin said, patting the horse.

The crack of a gunshot split the air. Erin ducked instinctively and the horse picked up speed. Erin looked forward to see the canyon dropping away ahead of them. “Whoa, easy!”

She pressed with one knee, trying to get the horse to turn, but she’d been squeezing so hard already that she doubted he could tell the difference. The ground seemed to vanish 30 feet ahead of them. “Come on, turn!” Erin couldn’t keep the panic out of her voice. Another gunshot sounded behind them and she flinched.

The horse kept running forward. She’d have to jump. She’d have to roll off, take her chances with a fall, let the poor animal go to its own fate. But her whole body trembled with fatigue and she couldn’t seem to move.

Fifteen feet. Ten.

Then suddenly they were close enough that Erin could see the slope down into the canyon. It angled away like a ramp, steep but not deadly. In a split second decision, Erin gripped the horse’s mane, leaned back, and held on.

He barely slowed as he went over the edge and started down the slope, his muscles bunching and hooves sliding in the loose dirt. Erin slid toward his neck, her stomach lurching into her throat as they skidded and clattered, sending pebbles flying and dust billowing so thick Erin could no longer see the horse’s legs. She kept her weight back so as not to throw the horse farther forward and prayed she could stay on.

They reached the bottom. Erin threw her weight to the right and the horse turned west, toward Silver Valley. “Maybe that wasn’t a bad idea after all,” she said, gasping to catch her breath. “We’re out of sight down here. He won’t be able to follow us even if he goes for his vehicle. Probably. And we know this canyon takes us right to Silver Valley.”

The canyon blocked most of her view of the sky above, but she could see ahead toward Silver Mountain. The dark purple clouds seemed to be rolling toward her, hiding most of the mountain. Erin wondered if it were already raining at the ghost town. If so, Drew might not be able to fly. Erin shook her head. She couldn’t think about that. She had to concentrate on now, on getting there.

She allowed herself to relax. To breathe. She felt limp enough to slide right off the horse, but she swayed with his rhythm and kept her balance. Eight miles, more or less. How long would that take on horseback? How fast did a horse go? Twenty-five miles an hour seemed a reasonable guess for a lope, maybe half that for their current more leisurely pace. Either way, they should be there in under an hour. Until then, she’d try not to worry about Camie, about Tiger. About what still had to happen after she reached Silver Valley. She’d focus on her goal and keep moving. She didn’t have the energy, mental or physical, for anything more.

In less than an hour, she could be at Silver Valley. With Drew.

Erin fell into a half-doze, lulled by the swaying of the horse and the clomping of hooves on rock. She only roused herself when the horse stopped to grab a mouthful of weeds. She let him eat a few bites, then prodded him with her heels. He ignored her. She clucked, clapped her hands, and dug her heels in deeper. He blew out a breath like an aggrieved sigh and walked on, long green stems hanging from his mouth as he chewed.

Erin’s mind drifted, vague daydreams floating through a haze of exhaustion, as if her brain just couldn’t take the stress of thinking anymore. Some part of her knew that more trouble lay ahead, but for now, she only had to keep moving. Minutes slipped past, but she couldn’t have said how many. She tuned out and let the horse carry her.

A boom shook the air. The horse snorted and shied.

Erin whipped her head around. Was someone shooting at her again? No, she realized a moment later, the sound she’d heard was thunder, not gunshots. No villain looked down on her from the canyon rim above or roared up behind in a deadly black SUV. She was alone. Where, exactly, she didn’t know, but she had to be close to Silver Valley, even if she couldn’t see anything but high canyon walls and gray clouds low overhead.

The warnings came back to her as the first drops fell. Stay out of an arroyo in a rainstorm.

The canyon walls were steep-sided here and 20 feet high. They had no escape.

She kicked the horse, urging him to go faster. When had the gray skies moved in overhead? She remembered the dark clouds covering Silver Mountain and a prickling unease spread through her. It must already be raining there, perhaps had been raining for hours. She’d heard of flash floods rushing down an arroyo or drainage ditch, a wall of water two or three feet high, tumbling boulders the size of beanbag chairs. She hadn’t seen one herself, but Camie had explained how the climbing area used to be different, before a single flash flood washed away several feet of sand, exposing new rock at the base of each climb. It had uprooted trees and torn apart the parking lot, leaving fence posts and barbed wire in a tangled mess.

The horse seemed equally uneasy. He tried to turn around, but Erin prodded with her knees and heels and pulled on his mane, aiming him forward. She couldn’t remember when she’d last seen an easy way out of the canyon. “Our chance of finding an escape is as good ahead as it is behind,” she said. Besides, she couldn’t bear the thought of giving up those hard-earned miles—or heading back toward the man with the gun.

The canyon grew narrower, twisting and turning so Erin couldn’t see far ahead. Would she ever find a way out? She heard herself panting and tried to slow her breathing. She couldn’t afford to panic. Camie’s life depended on her. So did her own.

The rain fell harder, slicking her face and dampening her shirt. Erin prodded the horse, and he broke into a trot. The canyon was only 15 feet wide here. She could see dark stains in bands along the cliff walls. Marks from previous water levels? The highest were a good five feet up. The narrower the canyon, the deeper the water would flow, and the faster it would rush through.

She pressed a hand to her chest to hold in her thudding heart. What if they got to another cliff like the one she and Camie had to scale the first day? Even if she could make it, the horse certainly couldn’t. She’d have to leave him on his own and try to travel on foot or else turn back. And what if they got to a cliff so high she couldn’t get up it, even starting from the horse’s back?

She should turn around. But she’d been going for at least five minutes since she first noticed the thunder. Hadn’t she? It seemed like much more, but every moment seem to last an hour. She had vague memories of the canyon walls growing steeper for some time before that. She might have to go back for 15 or 20 minutes, even more if she was misjudging how long she’d been half asleep. Did she have that much time? If she did go back, would she find someone waiting for her?