Against the Wind (25 page)

S
arah awakened to the low roll of thunder outside the cottage. It had rained again last night, for which everyone was grateful. She glanced at the glowing red numbers of the clock on the nightstand and shot up from the bed.

It was almost nine-thirty. She hadn't been able to sleep last night so she'd taken a couple of Tylenol PM. They had worked so well she had overslept. She was surprised Holly hadn't come in to wake her hours ago. Maybe she had overslept, too.

Grabbing her fleece robe off the foot of the bed, Sarah hurriedly drew it on and walked to the bedroom door. As she stepped into the living room, the house seemed oddly quiet and a little tremor of unease went through her.

“Holly?” She opened the door to her daughter's bedroom, saw the rumpled bed, the colorful quilt that Livvy
had made decorated with tiny fawns and bear cubs, but no sign of her little girl.

Certain Holly must be outside playing, she started to close the door then happened to glance at the window. She frowned as she walked toward it. Holly liked to sleep with the window partly open so she could feel the cool night air, but the window was completely closed.

She leaned in closer toward the glass panes and looked down to the ground. Big, deep footprints were stamped into the mud. Terror filled Sarah's stomach. Whirling around, the air stalled in her lungs as she caught sight of the square of paper lying on Holly's pillow. Her hand shook as she picked it up.

Biting back a cry of sheer panic, Sarah turned and ran from the room, the paper gripped in her hand. Tears threatened as she raced out of the house. Asleep on the porch, Rags's head popped up. He jumped up and barked and started running along beside her.

Through the open barn door, Sarah spotted Jackson working.

“Jackson!” She tripped and nearly fell. Tears burned her eyes. Fear made it hard to breathe. “Jackson!”

He ran toward her, caught her hard against his chest. “What is it? What's happened?”

“It…it's Holly.” Her voice broke. “They've taken her.” The tears in her eyes spilled onto her cheeks. Her hand
shook as she handed him the note. Jackson scanned the words and his jaw went granite-hard.

“We'll get her back, Sarah, I promise you.”

“Oh, God, Jackson—”

“It's all right. Everything's going to be okay.”

“Do you know this place? Can you get there?”

Jackson caught her arm. “I know you want to go with me, but—”

She jerked away from him. “I'm going. She's my daughter. Don't you dare try to stop me.”

Jackson seemed to read her determination. “All right, go get dressed. I'll get my gear and meet you at the truck.”

Jackson looked up to see Jimmy Threebears walking toward him. “What's going on? I heard you talking. What's happened to Holly?”

“It's a long story, Jim.” He glanced back at Sarah and saw her dash into the cottage. “Same problem as before, different players. And these guys mean business.” He handed Jimmy the note, which he read as the two of them strode toward the ranch house.

“What are you going to do?”

“They've got Holly. We've got to do whatever they say.”

“These are city folks, right? How did they know that shack was even up there?”

“Must have paid someone who lives around here for information.” Everyone in the area knew about the old abandoned cabin at the top of the mountain. In the winter, the local cross-country ski group took snowmobiles up there and used it as a warming hut. The rest of the year, few people bothered with it since it was difficult to reach.

“You need to call the sheriff,” Jimmy said as they pushed through the back door into the kitchen. Livvy was off on Sundays so the room was cold and quiet. “You can't do this alone.”

Jackson continued through the house into his study. He went directly over to the gun cabinet, unlocked it and opened the etched glass doors. Pulling out the .308 Winchester rifle he used for hunting, he set it on top of the desk, his mind running over his options—which were few and far between.

“All right, here's what we'll do,” he finally said to Jimmy. “The road up to the cabin is bad in the best of weather. After two nights of rain, it's going to be a real sonofabitch. It'll take us a couple of hours to get there, even with four-wheel drive. Give me half an hour to get Holly out of there, then call Ben Weber. Tell him to get a chopper up there. He should be able to land in the meadow.”

Jimmy reached past him into the gun case. He pulled out the Colt .44 revolver Jackson carried whenever he was in the mountains and laid it next to the rifle, silently telling him one was not enough.

“I've got a better idea,” Jim said. “You drive the road. Make sure you get up there at exactly noon. In the meantime, Wheel and I will trailer a couple of horses and head for the trailhead. We'll ride in the back way. It's a shorter route. Should take about the same amount of time. With luck, we'll be there to cover you when you get there.”

Jackson lifted his battered straw hat and tugged it into place on his forehead. “I'm not sure what we'll be facing up there, Jim. You've got your sons to think of.”

“I wouldn't be much of a father if I taught them to abandon a friend when he needs my help.”

Something tightened in Jackson's throat. He could always count on Jimmy. “What about Wheel? This isn't his problem.”

“They took that little girl right off the ranch. Holly's been taken and that makes it his problem. Besides, I know Wheel, and I know we can count him.”

“All right, we'll play it your way. Tell Sam what's going on and have him call the sheriff at exactly twelve-fifteen. That doesn't give us much room for error, but if something goes wrong, maybe Ben can get there in time to pick up the pieces.”

Jimmy nodded. He shoved both guns across the top of the desk. “I've got my own rifle and Wheel's got his.” He grinned. “See you at the top of the mountain, Wyatt.” And then he was gone.

Thinking of the days when they were kids playing cowboys and Indians—Wyatt Earp and Cochise—Jackson collected the rifle and pistol and headed for the door, stopping only long enough to grab his jacket off the coatrack.

Sarah was waiting next to the truck, dressed in jeans and a shirt, carrying her jacket, a blanket and a canvas satchel.

“Clothes for Holly in case she needs them,” she said as she climbed in, and the lump returned to his throat.

His hand tightened around the stock of the rifle. He was tired of playing games with these people. They were in his territory now, not some shadowy street in L.A. And today—one way or another—he was going to end it.

Jerking open the driver's-side door, he shoved his
pistol under the seat and rested his rifle on the seat behind him. Once Sarah was buckled in, he cranked the engine, put the truck into gear and headed for the road leading up to Alpine Meadow.

 

Devlin Raines pulled his rental car up in front of the ranch house and turned off the engine. His brother was usually outside working, but at the moment, no one seemed to be around. Then he spotted Jimmy Threebears and the tall, lanky cowboy, Wheel Dillon, loading a couple of saddle horses into the back of a trailer.

“Hey, Jimmy!” he called as he climbed out of the car and started walking toward them.

“Dev!” Features grim, the big Sioux strode in his direction. “Am I glad to see you.”

Something was wrong. Dev could hear it in Jimmy's voice. It was the reason he had flown all the way to Wyoming. After what had happened to Vincent Spalino, he'd had a bad feeling his brother was in trouble.

“What's going on? Where's Jackson?”

“Headed for that old mine shack near Alpine Meadow. Someone took Holly. They've demanded Jackson and Sarah come up to the cabin. Wheel and I are riding in the back way.”

Dev clenched his jaw. “I was afraid something like this might happen. I'll need a horse.”

Jimmy nodded. “We're on a tight schedule. I'll fill you in once we're on the road.”

“Let me get my boots and gear and we're out of here.” He ran upstairs, slid open the closet door, and grabbed the boots and jacket he kept at the ranch for whenever he came to visit. On the way back down, he went into the study, got one of Jackson's hunting rifles, then stopped
at the car to retrieve the Browning 9 mm in his shoulder holster and a pair of high-powered binoculars.

Another vehicle was pulling up just as he shut the car door. Even with the shit that was about to rain down on all of them, he couldn't stop a grin.

“Hey, Gabe! Good to see you, brother.” He and Gabe had talked last night. Neither of them had mentioned making a trip to Wyoming in case Jackson needed help, but Gabe had clearly been worried. Dev wasn't surprised to see his brother there.

“We got trouble,” Dev continued. “Go get one of Jackson's rifles.” He glanced down to be sure his brother was wearing his usual pair of boots. “I'll saddle you a horse.”

“I brought my own firepower,” Gabe said, obviously ready for whatever trouble he might find. He opened the trunk of his rental car and dragged out a jacket with something heavy in the pocket, reached back in and pulled out his big 7 mm Weatherby rifle.

The brothers strode toward the stable. Having spotted the second car, Jimmy was just tightening the cinch on a second horse. Battered hat pulled low, Wheel Dillon mumbled a greeting, then took both animals' reins and led them toward the back of the trailer. Obediently, the bay and sorrel geldings climbed in with the first saddled pair.

“Just like old times,” Jimmy said, referring to their younger days when one of them always seemed to be in trouble. “I'll bring you both up to speed on the way.”

Dev just nodded.

Gabe's jaw looked hard. “Let's go.”

 

Holly huddled on an ugly brown blanket in the corner. Beneath another itchy blanket, she wore only her cotton
nightgown, the one with the big-eyed owls on it. Two men sat at an old wooden table across the room playing cards. One had a scraggly blond beard and she thought she might have seen him once in town. The other man was skinny as a snake and looked just as mean.

The third man was the scariest of all, though she couldn't quite say why. Just that his nose was too long and his eyes were a shiny black. His lips were thin, too, and when he smiled at her, it made her shiver.

“I want to go home,” she said, not for the first time. It took courage because they had warned her not to say it again.

“I told you to keep quiet,” the man with the blond beard said, casting her a look that made her pull the blanket tighter around her.

Last night, he was the one who'd come into her bedroom. She had only seen him for a minute before he pressed something over her nose and mouth that made her go back to sleep. This morning, she woke up in the cabin with her head hurting and her mom nowhere around.

“Your mother is coming to get you,” the dark-skinned man said. His hair was as black as his eyes, which always seemed to be looking at her. One of the men had called him Turk so she guessed that was his name.

“When is she coming?” Holly wasn't even sure her mom knew where she was. If she did, though, Holly knew her mom and Jackson would come for her.

The man named Turk looked at his watch. “An hour, maybe less. The road's bad. It might take a while, but your mother will be here.”

“With Jackson?”

His thin lips curved. “He'll be with her.” He was sure
of that, she could see, and hope rose inside her. Still, she couldn't figure out why the men had brought her here. Why they had come into her room in the middle of the night and carried her out of her house.

“You two better get outside with Beckman,” Turk said. “Make sure he's still covering the road. They could show up anytime now.”

Holly watched the man with the scraggly beard walk out the door with the skinny man. There sure were a lot of them and they all had guns.

Fear slid through her and she shivered beneath the scratchy wool blanket. She told herself not to cry and whenever she did, she didn't let them see.

She tried not to think what the men meant to do when her mom and Jackson came to get her. Whatever it was, she was afraid it wasn't good.

 

The pickup crawled along the narrow, rutted, muddy road. Thanks to the rain, it was nearly impassable in places. Mostly the truck was axle-deep in sludge, making the tires spin and the vehicle slide sickeningly on the curves.

At first, Sarah had been afraid they wouldn't be able to make it to the cabin, but Jackson knew this country and how to drive a road like this and the four-wheel truck just kept going.

“I shouldn't have taken those pills last night,” she said as the vehicle rolled along in a spot that was a little less rutted. “If I hadn't been sleeping so soundly I would have heard them. I could have stopped them.” Her eyes burned. She glanced out the window and hung on to her emotions, refusing to cry again. She had to be strong for Holly.

“You only took a mild sleep aid and even if you'd heard them come into the house, chances are you couldn't have stopped them. They probably would have taken you both. But they want me, too. This way, they make sure that happens.”

“Why do they want us to come way out here?”

“To control the situation. As far as they know, we're the only real threat to them. They want to get rid of us before we can tell the police about the mine. And they want to take care of the matter as neatly as possible.”

She clamped down on a stab of fear. “You would have gone to the police already, wouldn't you? If it weren't for my troubles with Mercer.”

Jackson made no reply.