By her reckoning though, Kyle owed her. At great risk to herself, she had saved his life, and in their short time together, he’d become as good a friend as she’d had in the last ten years, maybe longer. If he turned her away, she’d figure something else out, but she didn’t see that happening. He’d had every opportunity to use her and lead her on and hadn’t. He was decent and sincere. He’d broken her heart, but for the best reason she could think of for a man to break a woman’s heart. No, he wouldn’t turn her away. Be surprised to see her? Of course, but she was sure he’d find her a place to stay, at least temporarily, and help her with food and friendship and be someone to talk to.
Beyond her connection with Kyle, Deer Creek had sounded like a good place to be-rural, but still with a sense of community, a river, mountains, and nice people-an ideal location and base from which to rebuild. Rose stuffed the map in her pocket and circled her house, looking for a few last-minute things to take. Pictures of the boys, her driver’s license, address book, and first aid kit were all tucked into her bags. She was making a final sweep of the house when she heard the bone chilling and unmistakable sound of an engine.
“Why so soon?” she cried out to herself as her stomach sank and the strength drained from her legs. She ran to the front door on weak legs and scanned the road. A couple miles away she saw the red truck heading her direction, followed closely by a white SUV. The vehicles approached slowly, their occupants probably cautious, unaware that it was a lonely, middle-aged woman who’d done so much damage. The vehicles stopped, and Rose watched briefly as men piled out, two from the truck and four from the SUV. “I love you, Max,” she shouted at his lifeless body still lying in the driveway. Then she hurried for the back door.
Smokey whinnied as she ran towards him, sensing her anxiety. “Easy boy,” she said as she untied his halter and rubbed his nose. “We have to go, pal. I need you to hang in there for me.” Bags tied behind the saddle made mounting difficult, but she got her leg over, swung the horse’s head to the side and kicked hard with her heels. Smokey turned and started away from the house. Dusty resisted as her lead rope pulled tight, then she too made the turn and followed behind Smokey.
The direct trail to the trees was in full view of the parked vehicles. Rose swung south of the house to avoid being seen, down into the creek bottom and up the far side. She was fifty yards from the trees when she heard the two vehicles draw closer. “Lets go, Smokey,” she urged, coaxing him to a run. The rope connected to Dusty pulled tight on Smokey’s saddle. Rose knew her horses’ loads were heavier than usual, but they needed to get into the cover of the trees in a hurry, or things would go bad fast.
She bounced in the saddle as the horses cantered towards the trees. The packs slapped against the horses’ sides, making noise, but not enough to drown out the whine of vehicles accelerating towards the house. Tires skidded to a stop in the gravel of her driveway, followed almost immediately by slamming door and a flurry of shots. Rose shrunk down low, certain bullets were coming her way. Instead she heard glass breaking at the house as countless weapons were fired, then someone shouted. With her horses nearly galloping, Rose hurried to take a final look at her home as they reached the shelter of the trees.
A single shot echoed as she turned, and a bullet careened by overhead. She spotted one of the men with his rifle aimed in her direction. “Go!” she screamed as the horses slowed for the trees, kicking hard and willing them into the safety of the forest. They plunged headlong into the growth, the branches clawing and slapping at her, trying to pull her from her mount as she broke virgin trail through the heavy branches. Rose gripped the saddle and tucked her head behind Smokey’s neck while kicking furiously as more shots rang out.
They were deep into the forest before she reined the animals in, allowing them to pick their way more carefully through the trees. She wiped blood from a scratch on her cheek as she drew the horses to a stop and listened. No more gunshots, but she could hear the dreaded engines sounding closer. “Please, no!” she cried, spurring the horses forward yet again.
The vehicles were moving towards her, likely following an old trail her sons had cut with their 4-wheelers years back, one that led from the house up onto the ridge overlooking the valley. The trail was narrow, bumpy, and hard to follow, especially after years of disuse, and unfortunately, it went in the direction she needed to go and would bring them far closer to her than she wanted.
“Move it, Smokey!” she urged, once again kicking him in the flanks. The gunshots had him on edge, and he lurched ahead, almost throwing her from the saddle. They pushed through the trees, picking their trail better than in the mad dash into the forest, but fear and urgency still overtook caution, and Rose endured a steady pummeling from low hanging branches.
Smokey pressed forward, sensing Rose’s panic and needing little coaching from her. He avoided the narrowest paths between trees, as the abuse from the branches was no more enjoyable for him than for her. Sweat lathered on his shoulders, and his breathing was labored. The trail was just ahead and visible to Rose. She glanced towards the house and saw nothing, despite the loud echo of the vehicles rolling through the trees.
She took a deep breath and drove forward, emerging from the trees and onto the trail before turning right. Free of the trees, Smokey and Dusty quickened their pace, the open space allowing them to run freer and faster. Rose was headed for a trail that cut across the side of the mountain a half-mile further up the hill. It was the trail she used to visit her neighbors and was familiar to her and her horses, plus it was winding and rocky, and far too narrow for any four-wheeled vehicle to follow.
Maybe there was a chance she could find that trail if she avoided the exposure of the road, but a rocky bluff cut across above them, and she wasn’t sure that she could pass it anywhere other than through a gap that the road used. She made a quick decision and stayed on the trail. They had galloped for two hundred yards when Rose felt Smokey suddenly surge ahead. She looked back to see Dusty falling behind, the lead rope dangling close to the horse’s feet. “Whoa, Smokey!” she shouted, reining him in and turning him back downhill towards his mother. He fought the change in direction, sensing the danger behind them, but Rose forced him back to Dusty, now walking slowly towards them.
Rose quickly leapt from the saddle, land awkwardly and stumbling into Dusty before catching herself on the pack. Rose snatched the end dangling from her saddle and tied it to the other end on Dusty’s halter. The horse eyed her as it breathed deeply, the air billowing in front of her in great silver clouds. “Time to go, girl,” Rose said as she remounted Smokey. A glance downhill told her that the white SUV, mostly obscured by the trees, was bouncing along the trail just three hundred yards back.
“Quick Smokey,” Rose said, urging him forward. “Before they see us.” They took off once again, driven harder by the glimpse of their pursuers so close behind. As they rounded a curve in the trail, Rose saw the path she wanted fifty yards ahead. The road they were on made a steep climb through the cut in the bluff, then turned right and ran along the ridge for a couple of miles before dropping back down on the far side of the woods in the direction of the highway. Rose’s trail cut left where the road turned right, followed the ridge for a distance, then dropped down on the far side into the cover of the trees, and angled away from her house and towards a neighboring ranch.