Forsaken. B.J. DanielsЧитать онлайн книгу.
over the mountainside.
“I’ll get us saddled up,” she said when she’d finished the breakfast sandwich. He noticed that she’d eaten it all, just as he had. Like him, she must fear she was going to need the strength later today.
As she readied the horses, he broke camp, packing up the rest of the food and putting out the fire.
“How much farther?” he asked as they swung up into their saddles.
“We should find their camp by afternoon.” He could see how hard her next words were for her. She hadn’t wanted him along, didn’t want him interfering. Maybe more to the point, she didn’t want to have to worry about him along with her other concerns. “Are you doing all right?”
He smiled. “You don’t have to worry about me.”
She snorted at that as she spurred her horse out of the pines and into the clear blue Montana morning.
* * *
WHEN SHERIFF FRANK CURRY opened his eyes, he was on his bedroom floor. He hurt all over, so at first it was impossible to know how badly he’d been injured. He couldn’t even tell where all the pain was coming from.
As he tried to sit up, his head swam. His vision blurred to pinpoints, forcing him to lie down again. He lay on his back with his eyes closed and tried to make sense of what he was doing on his bedroom floor with the room in shambles around him.
What had happened? The last thing he could recall was seeing Lynette at the store, wasn’t it?
As he gingerly touched his aching shoulder, his memory came back in a flash, along with the pain of being hit with a baseball bat. Pam! The pain and anger threatened to blind him. He sat up, gripping the edge of the bed for support. Pam had been in his house. She’d—
He glanced around the room, at the destruction. It made no sense. If it wasn’t for the mess she’d left behind he might have thought he’d fallen, hit his head and dreamed it all.
As he started to get to his feet, he looked around for his gun. It wasn’t in his holster and yet he remembered pulling it. He remembered Pam daring him to use it. He hadn’t, though, had he?
No, if he had, Pam would be lying here in a puddle of blood.
So why hadn’t she taken the gun and used it on him? “Why didn’t you just kill me?” he bellowed even though he knew Pam was long gone, and just as he was well aware of why she hadn’t used his gun on him.
Pam had no intention of going to prison for killing him. Not when she could just torment him and get away with it.
But not this time. She’d been in his house. She’d torn it up. She and whoever she’d brought with her had attacked him. She wasn’t getting away with this.
He got to his feet and took a wobbly step. As he bent over to see if the gun had been kicked under the bed, everything started to go black again. He gave it a minute then looked again. No gun.
Pam must have taken it. Great. He pulled out his cell phone. It dawned on him that the first call he should make was to the hospital. His temples throbbed, and when he touched the back of his head, he could feel the crusted blood in his hair. He was sure he had a concussion. How bad of one, he didn’t know. It would depend on how long he’d been out.
Through the window he could see the sun coming up. It was late when he’d come home from the movie in Bozeman and heard someone in his house. But still he’d been out for hours.
His left thigh ached, and when he touched it, he could feel that it was badly bruised. The memory of Pam swinging the baseball bat came back. He was amazed he didn’t have some broken bones or that she hadn’t beaten him to death once he was down.
He guessed that she’d stopped because she’d made her point. No sense in beating a dead horse, right?
As he dialed 9-1-1 and asked for an ambulance and the undersheriff, he recalled her last words.
You really didn’t think I was done with you, did you?
* * *
RIDING BESIDE MADDIE, Jamison crossed a wide meadow between two mountain peaks before working his way along the bottom of a sheer granite cliff that shot up to dizzying heights over them.
Sunlight traveled down through the pine boughs to bathe them in flickering golden beams. He breathed in the sweet scents of pine and new green grasses, the morning air crisp and cold. He feared the air was so clean it would intoxicate him since he had never breathed anything like it before.
The air, the altitude or Maddie Conner would be his undoing, he thought. He didn’t doubt that if he couldn’t keep up, she would leave him behind. Didn’t they shoot animals that couldn’t keep up with the herd?
Once they left the pines, the sky overhead seemed as endless as the wide-open mountain slopes in front of them. The huge expanse was a startling clear blue, no clouds on the horizon that he could see.
The wind kicked back up the higher they went. Above the tree line, it swept across the grassy slope in a blistering howl of undulating tall grasses that looked like waves rushing to shore. Water gushed from a plethora of small creeks as higher snowfields melted slowly. It was still early in the year up this high. The sun had a lot of climbing to do before summer warmth ever reached these mountains.
Still, the view was breathtaking. The land seemed alive with color from the dark silken emerald of the trees to the vibrant chartreuse of the grass. All this was in contrast to the dark rocky peaks with their cap of blinding white snow and the clear, deep blue sky overhead.
He’d heard Montana called God’s country but until that moment he’d never understood it. The beauty made him ache. Just as the high altitude made him light-headed. Maddie was right about him. He was a fish out of water up here.
“How high are we?” he asked as they crossed a windblown ridge, the horse hooves clattering on the rocks.
“Close to ten thousand feet.”
The last time he was this far above sea level, he’d been in a plane.
He didn’t know how far they’d ridden. He hadn’t felt the hours slip past, lulled by the gentle rocking of his body in the saddle and the mesmerizing beauty juxtaposed against the remoteness and endless isolation. It gave him an odd, alien feeling and added to his apprehension about what they would find over the next mountain.
He didn’t realize anything was wrong until Maddie suddenly pulled her horse up short. “What is it?”
She didn’t answer, but seemed to be listening, though he couldn’t imagine what she could hear over the relentless wind.
Reining in, it took him a moment to hear anything but the deafening gale. When he finally did hear what had caught her attention, he felt the hair on his neck shoot up as goose bumps skittered over his skin.
An eerie keening sound rode the wind.
Last night, he’d heard coyotes calling in the distance. But this was no coyote. If this sound was human, the person was in terrible pain.
“Where is it coming from?” he asked as he eased his horse up next to Maddie’s.
She shook her head, still listening as if trying to pinpoint the sound. But with the wind shifting around them, he couldn’t tell any more than apparently she could.
Maddie cocked her head. Her expression gave little away, but he could tell that, like him, she was shaken by the spine-chilling sound. Unlike him, though, he had a feeling she knew what it was.
“This way,” she said after a moment. He glimpsed her face just before she rode off. There was more than determination etched in her expression. There was pain and regret. She had come to a sad conclusion based on what, he didn’t know.
He followed, riding up along the edge of the wide basin then across another high rocky ridge. The view took his breath away and gave him vertigo. He swore he could see