Quite the Catch

Evernight
Publishing

www.evernightpublishing.com

Copyright© 2014 Lee Ann
Sontheimer
Murphy

ISBN: 978-1-77130-858-8

Cover Artist: Sour Cherry
Designs

Editor: Lisa
Petrocelli

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

WARNING: The unauthorized
reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal.
 
No part of this book may be used or
reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the
case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

This is a work of fiction.
All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual
events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely
coincidental.

DEDICATION

This one’s for my Cherokee
ancestors and relatives and for all the law enforcement officers who risk their
lives daily to keep us all safe.

QUITE THE CATCH

Lee Ann
Sontheimer
Murphy

Copyright © 2014

First things first…

He
ran so hard that his ragged breath caught in his chest and his lungs burned,
but he didn’t dare stop. Joshua figured if he tripped or lost his balance, he’d
be dead within minutes. The braying and barking of the hounds sounded closer so
he pushed harder, his calf muscles protesting as he increased speed. He failed
to realize he had reached the railroad bridge until it was too late to turn
around so he slowed as much as possible. If they caught up now, there would be
no mercy.

A
hoarse shout behind him rang out and muffled the sound as a bullet whizzed
past, inches from his cheek. If he hadn’t known better, Joshua might have taken
it to be an insect. The second shot echoed out across the valley and another
bullet passed by. A burst of fire from multiple guns roared and his options
narrowed to two choices. He could keep running and be shot. Even if the men in
pursuit lacked shooting skills, the odds were he’d be hit and probably killed,
so Joshua took the other option.

Without
pausing, he changed course and ran straight over the open side of the trestle. His
feet encountered air and danced on nothing, hovering in space for a long moment
until his brain realized what happened. In those odd moments, one of the
bee-like bullets stung, burning his left side with instant fiery pain. Joshua
gasped, then plummeted fast, hard as a stone into the river far below. If he
missed the water and hit rocks instead, his bones would break and he would die.

Death’s after my ass but he’s not
getting me. Not today.
Joshua shifted his body during the descent and landed in the river, swollen and
full from the spring rains. The impact hurt
as much as if he’d hit a brick wall and he plunged deep below the surface. Cold
water, brackish and murky, filled his mouth and robbed him of air. His body
ached and it would be so easy to yield to the water, to let it suck him to the
bottom. The wound in his side sent pain spiraling out and sapped his strength. He
could taste the copper tang of blood in the water now. If he lost enough blood,
he could die, but there wasn’t a lot he could do to stop it. If he never
resurfaced, at least they wouldn’t be victorious. He let the current carry him
along, and struggled to hold his breath. At the same time, Joshua pushed upward
in a valiant effort and managed to lift his head above the river.

He
choked, gasped, and tried to figure out his location. Caught by the current, he
was drifting south and he’d already passed beyond the rail bridge. When he
twisted his head around to look, the party chasing him stood on the trestle. Some
pointed and shouted but he couldn’t make out their words. Water sloshed in his
ears and the flooded river roared with noise.

If
he could swim to shore, he might make it but when he tried, he flailed around
worse than a child at a first swimming lesson. His weary legs refused to kick
and his arms ached. Joshua couldn’t get into position so he let the water carry
him. Sooner or later, some of Pete’s bunch would realize that all they had to
do would be to jump in the trucks and drive to one of the downriver access
points. Then they could pick him off, easy as shooting fish in a barrel.

I’ll die cold and wet but hell,
at least I tried.

It
might have been his final thought if Joshua hadn’t smacked into something hard.
The impact jarred him but he grasped on instinct and held on.
It’s a boat.
A goddamn
boat.
His fingers
clutched tight and he struggled to find his voice as the fisherman, clad in
knee-high rubber boots and an ancient hooded jacket, reached toward him.

Fatigue
and whatever injuries he might have suffered along the way caught up and Joshua’s
head spun.
I’m about to pass out.
He
struggled to hold onto consciousness, but a blinding white brilliance consumed
his vision and he slipped into darkness as the fisherman hauled him into the
boat.

“Hang
on and I’ll help you.”

It’s a woman. Fuck me running. It’s
a woman.

The
last thing he remembered were her eyes, as blue as sapphires, and huge, rounded
with surprise. Then he gave up and fainted for the first time in his life.

Chapter One

With
the river high, she shouldn’t have taken the boat out but Tina seldom let
anything as small as a flood stop her.
 
She did what she wanted, always had, and had
no plans to change. Besides, she had to keep her promise to Gramps. He’d wanted
his ashes scattered over the river where he had once fished and she swore she
would do as he asked. Tina didn’t care much for fishing but she had always
loved being out on the water, under the sky with Gramps, when he wet a line.
So, once the torrential rains stopped, she decided this had to be the day. Spring
had been wetter than usual and today was the first day the sun shone.

Her
cousin Charley loaded up his boat and trailer, then helped to launch the small
craft onto the river. Tina, dressed in Gramps’ old boots and worn coat, had
waved as she set off. Charley offered to come along but she refused. Instead he
would meet her downriver at one of the public access spots. The old truck would
be waiting there once Charley’s kid brother, Chase, delivered it and she’d go
home. Or at least back to Gramps’ place where she’d been staying since the old
man took ill last fall. After her grandfather’s death three weeks earlier, Tina
remained. At first, there had been the funeral and a few legal details to
handle. The task of sorting Gramps’ clothes and possessions fell to her because
he’d left the house and property to Tina. She hadn’t done it yet, not quite up
to the intrusion of emptying dresser drawers and clothes. At least her
grandfather had given away some things before he passed away, including the
boat and trailer to Charley.

Over
the long months of Gramps’ illness, Tina had dreamed of the day she could return
to her life in Dallas and her nursing career. She had continued to pay the rent
on the duplex she shared with two other nurses but now, without any reason to
stay, she didn’t want to go back to the city. Living near the Poteau River, in
the woods of eastern Oklahoma, pleased her more than daily traffic snarls and
urban sprawl. She’d used the weather as an excuse to stay, too, unable or
unwilling to scatter Gramps’ ashes in the rain.

But
today had dawned clear and bright with temperatures in the lower fifties, so
she decided it was time. Sunshine danced on the surface of the water and
sparkled as she’d let the wind scoop Gramps’ remains out of the urn. She
managed to scatter whatever the wind didn’t pick up. None of them came back to
land on her, and a rush of exhilaration filled her as they flew in all
directions. Tina liked to think it might be Gramps but she didn’t know.

After
taking care of business, she floated the johnboat downriver and didn’t hurry,
savoring the outdoors. Although she’d grown up in the area, Tina’s real life
had shifted to the city when she went off to college. Since she came back, her
world had been limited to Gramps’ old A-frame cabin, his trips to the doctor in
town, the supermarket, pharmacy, and at the end, the medical center where he
lost his battle with cancer.
Being alone on the water, with a
fresh spring breeze in her face and the warmth of the sun beating down on her
shoulders, equaled heaven on earth.

She
nibbled a peanut butter sandwich and drank a tepid bottle of iced tea en route.
The forest and fields on the riverbanks offered pleasant background noise. Bird
songs wafted from the tall trees, cattle mooed as they grazed, and the river
sang its song. It wasn’t until after she passed beneath the old railroad
trestle bridge that she heard anything human.

From
her vantage point, the men had appeared at first to be a hunting party, their
shouts rough and harsh carried on the winds. Tina had watched them, both amused
and intrigued by their antics until she realized they followed a lone figure
running ahead. When the unmistakable sound of shots fired echoed over the wide
valley, she sobered and waited to see what might happen. When the man came over
the trestle, she gasped. He had to be a dead man, if not from a gunshot wound,
from the fall, and when he plunged deep into the water, she stifled a scream.