have been the day you last washed your socks,â Hedden said.
âThe hell does that mean?â said Horn, adjusting his hat atop his head.
âNothing,â Hedden said. The two turned their horses and rode off along the dark rocky trail.
Â
Erin had ridden hard the first two miles as she fled the camp. Yet, after stopping a couple of times, listening closely, and hearing no sound of the Ranger on the trail behind her, she had slowed the horse to a less dangerous pace.
She had to admit she felt bad running out on the Ranger in the middle of the night. He had been nothing but kind to her in every regard. But he was a lawman, she reminded herself. Their worlds were too far apart. Both her father and her brother, Bram, had taught her everything she would ever need to know about lawmen.
Lawmen might start out pretending to be your friend . . . , she could hear them both lecturing as one inside her head. Sooner or later he wouldâve turned on her, she thought, completing the lesson for herself. She had learned early on to trust no one, and the practice had served her well.
Near the bottom of the hill line, she stopped, raised the reloaded Starr and fired it: one shot . . . then two . . . then three. As her ears rang, she reloaded the smoking gun, knowing it had been heard, resounding through the night in every direction.
She rode onto a trail weaving through a wall of boulders that had rumbled down the hillsides centuries past and spilled outward onto the flatter plane.
Halfway through the deep maze of rock, she felt the horse stall and tense up beneath her. She had to strong-hand the reins in order to keep the animal under control. She heard the slightest brush of paw and nail across the tops of boulders lining the narrow trail, and caught glimpses of black, ominous figures streaking from rock to rock above her.
My God! Wolves! she realized, a cold chill striking her and racing up her spine.
The large pack of night hunters had picked out the horseâs scent on a wisp of air and followed it across the hillsides and saddlebacks until they found themselves loping along above it.
Erin didnât have to nail her heels to the horseâs sidesâit was all she could to hold on as panic overtook the terrified animal and sent it racing forward in a frenzied run for its life. Seeing the horse bolt away, the wolves streaked down from atop the rocks like black lightning, snarling, snapping at both horse and rider.
Erin felt a paw rip at her thigh as one of the ferocious hunters fell away to the ground. Even in her struggle to stay atop the horse, Erin grasped at the big Starr revolver at her waist. Yet, as soon as she felt the gun firmly in her hand, the earth seemed to collapse under her.
Whinnying loudly, bucking as it ran, trying to shed Erinâs weight from its back, the horse stumbled on the hard rocky trail. Its forelegs folded back brokenly beneath it, the fleeing animal crashed to the ground, sliding and rolling in a spray of rock and dust as the predators launched themselves like spears from every direction.
Erin flew forward over the horseâs neck. She hit the ground at a sliding angle and came to a tumbling halt at a pile of boulders heaped beneath the sloping hillside.
A young wolf growled and snapped at her heel as she crawled wildly away into the rocks, gun in hand. But the animal didnât pursue her. Instead, it turned and raced away, joining the fray of snarling wolves that had descended onto the downed and dying horse.
Erin heard the pitiful whinnying of the animal in the swirl of dust behind her, but she didnât stop âcouldnât stop. She crawled and clawed her way deeper into the spilled boulders, the big Starr gripped tightly.
Her free hand frantically grappled the land-stuck boulders until she found a slim opening beneath two of themâjust in time.
Oh my God!
She managed to wiggle her way down between the two boulders and pull her feet in behind
âThe hell does that mean?â said Horn, adjusting his hat atop his head.
âNothing,â Hedden said. The two turned their horses and rode off along the dark rocky trail.
Â
Erin had ridden hard the first two miles as she fled the camp. Yet, after stopping a couple of times, listening closely, and hearing no sound of the Ranger on the trail behind her, she had slowed the horse to a less dangerous pace.
She had to admit she felt bad running out on the Ranger in the middle of the night. He had been nothing but kind to her in every regard. But he was a lawman, she reminded herself. Their worlds were too far apart. Both her father and her brother, Bram, had taught her everything she would ever need to know about lawmen.
Lawmen might start out pretending to be your friend . . . , she could hear them both lecturing as one inside her head. Sooner or later he wouldâve turned on her, she thought, completing the lesson for herself. She had learned early on to trust no one, and the practice had served her well.
Near the bottom of the hill line, she stopped, raised the reloaded Starr and fired it: one shot . . . then two . . . then three. As her ears rang, she reloaded the smoking gun, knowing it had been heard, resounding through the night in every direction.
She rode onto a trail weaving through a wall of boulders that had rumbled down the hillsides centuries past and spilled outward onto the flatter plane.
Halfway through the deep maze of rock, she felt the horse stall and tense up beneath her. She had to strong-hand the reins in order to keep the animal under control. She heard the slightest brush of paw and nail across the tops of boulders lining the narrow trail, and caught glimpses of black, ominous figures streaking from rock to rock above her.
My God! Wolves! she realized, a cold chill striking her and racing up her spine.
The large pack of night hunters had picked out the horseâs scent on a wisp of air and followed it across the hillsides and saddlebacks until they found themselves loping along above it.
Erin didnât have to nail her heels to the horseâs sidesâit was all she could to hold on as panic overtook the terrified animal and sent it racing forward in a frenzied run for its life. Seeing the horse bolt away, the wolves streaked down from atop the rocks like black lightning, snarling, snapping at both horse and rider.
Erin felt a paw rip at her thigh as one of the ferocious hunters fell away to the ground. Even in her struggle to stay atop the horse, Erin grasped at the big Starr revolver at her waist. Yet, as soon as she felt the gun firmly in her hand, the earth seemed to collapse under her.
Whinnying loudly, bucking as it ran, trying to shed Erinâs weight from its back, the horse stumbled on the hard rocky trail. Its forelegs folded back brokenly beneath it, the fleeing animal crashed to the ground, sliding and rolling in a spray of rock and dust as the predators launched themselves like spears from every direction.
Erin flew forward over the horseâs neck. She hit the ground at a sliding angle and came to a tumbling halt at a pile of boulders heaped beneath the sloping hillside.
A young wolf growled and snapped at her heel as she crawled wildly away into the rocks, gun in hand. But the animal didnât pursue her. Instead, it turned and raced away, joining the fray of snarling wolves that had descended onto the downed and dying horse.
Erin heard the pitiful whinnying of the animal in the swirl of dust behind her, but she didnât stop âcouldnât stop. She crawled and clawed her way deeper into the spilled boulders, the big Starr gripped tightly.
Her free hand frantically grappled the land-stuck boulders until she found a slim opening beneath two of themâjust in time.
Oh my God!
She managed to wiggle her way down between the two boulders and pull her feet in behind
Similar Books
