Cassie woke to aching bones and chilled muscles from the near-freezing temperatures of the night. As she was about to stand and catch warmth from the sun, she heard voices in the distance. Scared for her life but needing to know how close the men were and if they were part of Bart’s crew, she carefully peeked around the rock wall. They stood at the edge of a ridge a hundred feet behind her, and Cassie immediately recognized them. Rifles were slung over their shoulders, and they were definitely hunting—but not for deer or antelope. She was the game of the day. She’d seen four of them on that ridge, but were there more? If law enforcement ever learned about Bart’s enterprise of free child labor, abuse, and eventually murder, he and his crew would never see daylight again. Instead of a hundred-thousand-acre Montana cattle ranch, prison would be their new home.
As long as Cassie could remember, she and Jolie had lived there. She had no memory of a life prior to that, yet she was sure they weren’t related to Bart, and she’d never seen a woman there in a mothering role. Kids arrived now and then but from where, she had no idea. Yet like her and Jolie, they’d all shown up at a tender age. Their memories of life before the ranch would quickly be forgotten along with their true names and where they came from. Cassie had seen it happen to more kids than she could count, and usually, when they reached their late teens, they disappeared.
It’s probably because by my age, they’re strong enough to fight back and old enough to figure out how to escape. Bart and his men get rid of the older ones before that can happen.
She was sure that she and Jolie were scheduled to disappear next. Cassie was eighteen, or so she thought, and Jolie was a year or so younger. They’d arrived together as kids, and on occasion, a flashback of a desolate home with other children and the word “adoption” popped into her mind. She didn’t know if they were real memories or just disturbing dreams that she’d had one too many times. At the ranch, they had no access to information of any kind. All she knew was work, day and night, and the changing of the seasons.
Loose rocks rolled past and brought her back to the present. The men were getting closer. A twig snapped only feet behind her, and Cassie froze. Bart’s ranch hands talked among themselves on the rock outcropping above her. She backed against the stone face as tightly as she could, afraid to take a breath.
“Now where? We’ve been on this side of the mountain for damn near twelve hours, and none of us have had her in our sights.”
“I’ll radio Bart and see where he wants us to go. If she’s cleared the top and is working her way down the other side, we can ambush her from the east. We’ll head up Sawmill Road and then park at the base of the mountain and work our way up. If she makes it to a main road where someone might see her, we’ll be screwed.”
“Then it’s a good thing she has no idea which way to go. Come on. Let’s get out of the sun and see what Bart has to say.”
Cassie recognized one of the voices as belonging to Malcolm, Bart’s second in charge. He was as mean and abusive as Bart and wouldn’t hesitate to shoot her on site and leave her for the animals to clean up. She would have to be careful, stay behind the rocks, and watch her steps. A loose rock or a snapped twig could easily give away her location. She needed to put distance between them, but at such a cautious pace, that wouldn’t be easy to do.