Heaven to Betsy (Emily #1) (28 page)

I remounted behind Betsy and gave her a squeeze. “Let’s get out of here.”

It was getting out of there that presented the next problem. I couldn’t go barging in on Paul’s house party, since I no longer had any idea who was friend or foe. Except for Judith, who had long since left, and Jack, who might not be there anymore, either. I didn’t have my phone so I couldn’t call them. A really hideous possibility occurred to me: Paul knew about the Collin fiasco last night. Who was I kidding? He probably knew about this morning, too. All Paul had to do was tell Jack I’d left with Collin. When I didn’t show up at Wrong Turn Ranch, Jack wouldn’t worry about me. He’d make the natural assumption.
Spit.

Well, I knew the way home, and I had a good horse and a gun that I wasn’t afraid to use, so I’d just ride. The only problem with this plan was that when Tanner was discovered where I’d left him hog-tied and gagged, he’d tell them I’d fled via horseback, and they wouldn’t have any trouble guessing which way I’d gone. Okay, so that meant I’d have to move quickly, and maybe even be a little bit sneakily.

I leaned down toward Betsy’s ear and whispered, “You ready to go real fast?”

Betsy nodded, her silky hair rubbing under my chin. “What’s the horse’s name?”

“I don’t know. Why don’t you give him a name?”

Again the silky caress of her nod. “Thunder.”

“Yah, Thunder,” I shouted into the night as I smacked him lightly on his shoulder with the reins.

He responded by leaping forward in a quarter-mile sprint that would have earned Jarhead’s approval, then settled into a ground-eating gallop. I steered us wide of the house, down the dark side of the entrance, the only way I knew to get off of Paul’s land.

True to his name, our mount’s hooves thundered on the ground beside the road. I caught sight of the highway ahead, but as we neared it, headlights swept across the pasture in front of us to our left. It was a vehicle, behind us, and it would catch us in its beams when the curves of the road aligned in its favor. There was nowhere to hide.

“Yah, Thunder, yah.”

“Yah, Thunder,” Betsy echoed.

The horse ran faster, panting but eager and fleet. The pavement ahead would be slick and treacherous under his hooves. I had to pull him up and let him trot across, but not too soon. I tried to judge the distance in the dark as the headlights swept across our backs and to our right. If they’d seen us, we were goners no matter what I did. We had almost reached the highway, and I pulled Thunder up short. He whinnied, but obeyed, and I urged him into a trot to cross the road at an angle away from Jack’s place, trying to get far enough east that a vehicle turning toward Wrong Turn Ranch wouldn’t see us. When we reached the grass on the other side of the highway, I guided Thunder to the right and gave him his head. He galloped easily. I turned back to look at the vehicle exiting Paul’s ranch. Thunder’s tail flew high behind him.
Turn left
, I willed the car.
Turn left
.

And it did. As soon as its taillights disappeared, I slowed Thunder and wheeled him back around.

“Where we go?” Betsy asked.

“To my friend Jack’s house.”

“How far?”

“A little far. We’re looking for a gate so we can turn off this road onto his ranch. Can you help me look for a place on the fence where two posts are close together?”

She pointed ahead of us. “There?”

Her young eyes were far better in the dark than mine, and I strained to see two posts close together. I found them; she was right.

“Yes, good job. You hold onto the saddle horn and stay on Thunder while I open the gate.”

Again, we were exposed to any vehicles leaving Paul’s ranch. I hopped down and pulled on the tight wire with all my might. My arms shook, but I was able to get it just clear enough that I could slip the top loop off and pull the post out of the bottom loop. I threw the gate aside and led Betsy and Thunder through. I hated to take the time to close the gate behind us but, if I left it open, it would be an easy clue for anyone following us.

I pushed us faster again now, following the eastern fence line to the north, straight away from Paul’s ranch and the highway traffic. I kept a hand on the saddle horn with Betsy’s, fearful that Thunder would lodge his hoof in a prairie dog hole in the dark, but he ran on at a three-quarters pace without faltering.

Betsy shouted, “Fence.”

Again, she was right. The quarter moon gave her just enough light to be our eyes.
Another thing to be thankful for
, I noted. We cut left along the fence and soon came upon a west-facing gate. I stopped, wavering. As much as I wanted to cut farther north, we could go west here, then north at our next opportunity. I wavered, then chose. West and north it would be. We hurried through and resumed our journey northward along the eastern fence. I slowed Thunder to a lope and his breathing settled with it. He nickered. His hooves drummed the ground rhythmically. We spooked some horses as we ran past their sleeping figures, and they jumped to their feet, snorts and whinnies following us. Betsy’s head began to sag against my arm until she slumped in a dead weight. With my adrenaline ebbing, drowsiness sank over me, too. It wasn’t so long ago I’d been unconscious and drugged. I shook my head vigorously. I had to stay alert.

As I rode I started thinking through all I’d learned and what might lie ahead. Assuming Paul and his buddies were looking for me, they’d go to Jack’s. They could be there now, passing the mescal bottle around, waiting for me. That meant I needed to come from the direction opposite the entrance—north to south—and find a phone to call Jack from, to let him know what was up.

I came upon a north-facing gate. “Wake up, sleeping beauty,” I said to Betsy.

She rubbed her eyes and grabbed the saddle horn. I opened the gate and let us through. We rode north again. I tried to think of where I could find a phone. I pictured the barn and fixed my mind’s eye on the closed door at the end of the stalls. It had a sign on it. Mickey Begay, Ranch Manager. A business office. It had to have a phone, or a fax, or a computer. Well, it didn’t
have
to. Everyone carried cell phones these days. But it might.

Thunder must have sensed the ranch headquarters with all its stabled horses before I did because he tossed his head and sped up again. A few minutes later, I saw the lights and the dark shadows of the Wrong Turn Ranch buildings on my left.

I bobbed my head. “Heck yeah.”

We’d managed to end up on the north side, in the dark and everything. I patted Thunder’s flank. He was sweaty and warm and magnificent. A final gate was just ahead— an iron one with a latch, which was far easier for me. I roused Betsy for the last time and told her our plan, then pointed Thunder toward the stock tank for some long overdue sips of water.

Once we were through the gate, I held Thunder to a walk and we picked our way to the back entrance to the barn. I hopped down, and this time I set Betsy on the ground beside me. “Hold Thunder’s reins for me, okay?”

“Okay.”

There were two doors: the big one to the center aisle between the stalls, and a small one into a room with a window. The one with the window was the office. I pulled at that door, but it didn’t budge. Locked. I had tools though: bobby pins and a gun. The gun was too loud and too much tool for the job, so I pulled out the bobby pin and set to work. The lock didn’t yield.

I put the bobby pin away. Guns were good for more than shooting bullets. I pulled it from my waistband and held it by its barrel. I gave the windowpane nearest the door a thwack with the butt of the handle. The glass emitted a high-pitched crack as it splintered inward. I stuck my hand through and tried to reach the doorknob. It was too far away, and the opening was too small for me to crawl through.

But I had one more tool at my disposal. A slim little girl. “Betsy, I’m going to help you crawl through that window, okay? When you get inside, you need to unlock the door. But don’t turn on the light.”

She nodded, her eyes silver dollars.

I used the gun handle to whack out the rest of the glass, the bits clinging to the window frame. Betsy gave me Thunder’s reins, and I dropped them, securing them under my boot. I picked her up and boosted her through the window, shaking with strain as I held her in the center, away from any shards I might have missed.

“Is there somewhere for you to land? Just with your shoes, though. I don’t want you to cut your hands.”

“Yeah. A table.”

I grunted as she swung her legs down, then her weight eased off of me as she stood up. I heard her knocking over God knew what as she climbed down. I stuck my face in after her.

“The door is right there.” I pointed to my right.

She turned the knob and it stopped.

“Okay, is there a button you can turn in the door knob? Or is there a latch you can turn above it?”

She peered close. “In the knob.” She twisted something.

“Okay, try the door again.”

She did, and smiled so brightly it nearly lit up the darkness. The door swung open.

“Great job! Now, can you hold Thunder?”

While she held the horse, I went in the office. On the far side was the open door to the interior of the barn, and on the adjacent wall, a desk. I searched the small room for a phone. Buried under Friday’s newspaper on the desk, I found one. I picked it up. It had a dial tone, thank goodness, but I realized I had no idea what Jack’s number was. I had his cell phone number programmed into mine, but Tanner and his skinny sidekick had taken that hours ago. I lifted the phone’s base and looked for speed dial buttons. Nothing. But there was one that held promise: Redial. I pushed it and held the receiver to my ear.

“Hello?” It was Jack.

I hadn’t expected to cry, but a sob broke from my throat.

“Mickey? Is that you?”

“No, Jack, it’s Emily, but don’t say my name. Say, hey, okay, Mickey.”

There was a pause. “Hey, okay, Mickey.”

“I’m in the barn office. Some of Paul’s men drugged me and locked me in one of their outbuildings, with a little girl. Jack, it’s Valentina. I have her. We escaped, and I have so much to tell you, later. But I was scared that they would be there with you.”

“Yeah, that’s great, but you’re right about that,” Jack said.

“I can’t let them find us. I’m going to take Valentina to the hangar and we’ll hide there until you can come for us.” I heard voices in the background, voices I recognized. Paul. Tanner. The tall, skinny guy. My hands trembled around the receiver.

“Sounds like the only thing you can do about it,” he said.

“Are you okay? Should I call for help?” I asked.

“Yeah, but I’ll call the vet myself in the morning. Meet me there?”

“Yes, thank you, Jack, thank you!”

“Be sure to keep an eye on the other horses though. It might be catching.”

A breath caught in my throat. “I will.”

“See you then.”

“Yes, see you then.”

As I hung up the phone, I heard the sound of the stall entrance opening in the far end of the barn. I tiptoed out of the office and shut the exterior door as quietly as I could. I sure didn’t feel groggy anymore.

“Someone’s coming. We have to go.” I put my finger to my lips.

Betsy put her finger to hers.

I lifted her onto Thunder’s saddle, and heard a noise right behind me. Glass crunching underfoot in the office. I looked from Betsy to the exterior door and grimaced, hesitating, then got the gun from my waistband again and stood by the door with it raised over my head in both hands. When the door opened, a man’s head poked out, and I lowered the butt of the pistol with all my strength on the base of his skull.

“Ugh phuh.” He landed on his face in the dirt.

“Good enough.” I said.

I slipped the pistol home in my skirt and hoisted myself up quickly behind Betsy. So much for avoiding strenuous physical activity for a few days after my surgery. Between riding, roping, and whatever you’d call what I’d just done, I’d be lucky if my uterus didn’t fall out on the desert floor before the night was over.

“Is he dead?” Betsy whispered.

“No, sweetie, he’ll just sleep for a while,” I said into her ear, my voice barely more than a vibration.

I squeezed my heels into Thunder’s flanks, and turned him north again. Behind me, I heard the bolt throw in the near end center stall entrance and the doors creak open. There was more than one of them. Spit. I dug my heels into Thunder’s flanks and he flew over the ground in the dark.

“Son of a bitch,” I heard a voice say. But if he said anything else, we were too far away by then to hear.

***

The echoes of the gunshot shattered the silence of the night, and the cry of an owl followed them. I’d hated to use the gun, but it was the only way I could think of to get past the padlock on the hangar door. I’d just have to count on the wind to cover—or at least disguise—the location of the sound. Luckily, Thunder appeared to be used to guns, because he hadn’t even flinched. I slipped the lock off. I pantomimed for Betsy to take her fingers out of her ears, and she did.

“In here, sleepy girl.” I pulled the door up and motioned Betsy inside.

Betsy hesitated. “It’s dark.”

“Yes, but Thunder and I will be with you. Here, you hold his reins. I have to get the airplane outside, all right?”

I’d decided that if we needed to make a run for it, I’d have the plane ready. If all was well, putting it back in the hangar was no big deal for an old hand like me. And I was sure all would be well, and that we’d just sit here and wait in the dark for a little while, because, by now, Jack would have called the cops and Mickey and who knew whom else. The cavalry would be on the way.

Giving Betsy the job of holding Thunder’s reins seemed to help her. The calming impact the horse had on her was amazing, and I sensed a budding horsewoman. She led Thunder in and his hooves clopped on the concrete floor. I heard her whisper to him. “It’s okay, Thunder. I’m not scared of the dark, are you?”

I nudged along the base of the wall with my foot looking for the tow bar. My boot clanked metal. I reached down and lifted it. The darn thing wasn’t as light as Jack had made it look. I remembered that he’d somehow attached it to one of the plane’s three legs. After a few false starts I clamped it around the front one. I crouched down, leaned back, and heaved on the bar. The plane crept forward, inches at a time, but gathered speed. I did it again, over and over, until I had it clear of the building, where I removed the bar and tossed it into the brush.