Chad kept his briefing quick as he waited for Liam to saddle up. Rosie shifted under Mitch’s weight, amped from their gallop back from Pops’s place. “I followed the cab,” Chad said, “even though she waved us off. Two miles from here along the frontage road, it was hit by another driver. Minimal damage to car, woman driver. By the time I made it down there, they were moving, continuing south on the frontage road.”
Uncle Gus scampered up, followed by Aunt Ginny. “Danny’s on scene. The taxi driver is okay, but the response vehicles are still blocking the road.”
Giving Wade and Bette more time to abduct Jane and Ben. His teeth were grinding together so hard he had to make a conscious effort to talk.
Liam swung up onto his horse. “Plan?”
“We ride. Chad and Uncle Gus go around in the truck to see if they can stop them before they reach the highway. Foley is rolling also, so be cautious. Don’t confront Wade.” Leave that to me. “Just detain him if you can.”
Liam crammed on his hat. “And you and me are gonna ride in like John Wayne?”
Mitch was already urging Rosie toward the gate. “Got a problem with that?”
“No way, boss,” he called. “That’s just the way I like it.”
On horseback, they were able to make their own path, bisecting the green hillsides and cutting a direct path to the main road. From their elevated position they caught sight of the car, stopped in the road where a man stood in a black jacket and jeans, relaxed, waiting. Every muscle in Mitch’s body snapped tight.
I’m coming for you, Wade. You won’t hurt Jane or Ben. Not gonna happen, not this time.
Liam understood Mitch’s pointed finger. He wheeled his horse and galloped ahead. They would come at Wade from two different sides.
The wind roared around him, and Rosie’s hooves thundered against the ground as they charged toward Wade.
Jane sat in the car, clutching her son, staring through the dusty windshield at Wade. Bette had slowed almost to a stop.
“Bette,” she said, in one last effort. “Listen to me. Wade is manipulating you. He doesn’t love you. This...” She tried to keep the pleading out of her voice. “This isn’t what love looks like.”
What did it look like instead? It came in the form of a huge man crouching low to play toy horses with a little child. It looked like one person risking their comfort and safety to help another. It appeared in the words I’m sorry and rang in hard-won laughter drifting up to a starlit sky. “Love is wanting more for the other person than you do for yourself,” she choked out.
Bette thought for a long moment, and Jane felt the faint stirring of hope. All Bette had to do was push the gas pedal, drive right past Wade and away from his twisted power. “Wade’s close enough for me,” Bette said, edging the car forward.
Jane had only a split second. She had one last decision to make, and she prayed God would give her the strength. Holding Ben tightly, she wrenched open the car door and tumbled out before Bette could gain much speed. She hit the ground, arms shielding her son, and rolled once. Then she was on her feet. She heard Bette call out to Wade, but she did not stop, sprinting toward the field, ducking under the wooden rails and through to the pastures. She remembered what Mitch had told her about cattle, that they were basically fourteen hundred pounds of unpredictable animal. She would take her chances with the beasts in front of her instead of the one closing in from behind.
Ben began to cry. “It’s okay,” she panted. If she could cross through the pasture, maybe she would run into someone from the ranch, or a clump of trees to hide in, something.
Her heart pounded mercilessly against her ribs. Run, run, run, her instincts shrieked, but it was slow going with a toddler almost choking her.
When she finally had to stop to catch her breath, she found she was in a small dip of land where there was a watering tank and several dozen full-size cows, regarding her with suspicion. Surrounding them were acres and acres of wide-open range and not a solitary person anywhere.
Frantically, she turned in a circle. Which way? The late-morning sun was prying through the clouds, so she knew which direction was east. Roughwater Ranch would be west, set along the cliffs. Keep going. Run back toward the ranch, toward people, her only chance of saving Ben.
She had just turned to go when she felt him behind her.
“Janey,” Wade said. “Are you showing my son the ranch? Turn around and let me see my boy.”
Hardly able to draw breath, terror screaming in every bone and sinew, she slowly shifted to face him.
“What’s your name, son?” Wade said.
Ben didn’t answer, stuffing his fingers in his mouth and shrinking back into Jane’s shoulder. Wade looked at Jane. “He’s mine, anyway. I’ll pick out what I want to call him.” He held out his palms. “Give him to me.”
She recoiled, stepping back until her knees banged against the watering tank. “No, I won’t.”
“I will take him, Janey, or you can hand him to me. Make it easy so he won’t cry anymore.” Wade’s nose wrinkled. “It’s making the snot run down his face.”
She summoned every last shred of courage. “Wade, you don’t own me, and you don’t own Ben. He’s my son and I will fight you with my dying breath. You will not take him from me.”
Wade tipped back his head and laughed. “Janey, of all the women I have killed, you will always be the best of the bunch.”
“Mommy,” Ben screamed as Wade marched toward them. Jane turned and ran, clutching her boy, willing her legs to go faster, despairing as she heard Wade closing the gap behind them.
Liam and Mitch burst into the hollow at the same moment. Wade wheeled around and fired. The shot whistled over Mitch’s left shoulder.
Jane screamed and cradled Ben to her. Had they been hit?
“Get them out of here,” he yelled to Liam, leaping from Rosie and giving her a smack on the rump that sent her galloping away. He tumbled as he hit the ground. Cattle, frightened at the gunshots, ran in a tornado of hooves.
“Liam,” he yelled again, unable to see from his belly-down position if Jane and Ben were clear of the stampeding cattle. He used the commotion to roll to his feet.
Wade was scanning for him, had not yet pinned down his position. Mitch knew he had only a moment, and he did not hesitate. Scrambling up, he ran behind the nearest cow, using it as a screen until he got close enough. With a mighty gulp of air, he dived for his brother, with all the vigor and enthusiasm he’d had as a high school tackle. His head made contact with Wade’s stomach, the air whooshing out of him. They somersaulted three times. Wade still gripped the gun, and it took all Mitch’s energy to clutch at his brother’s wrist.
The grass soaked into his back as Wade twisted on top of him.
“I will kill you, brother,” he grunted, the whites of his eyes going bloodshot with the effort. “And then I will have my son.”
“Not in this lifetime,” Mitch choked out, and with a strength he could not have fathomed from his almost forty-year-old self, he squeezed his brother’s hand until he heard the bone snap. Wade jerked, and Mitch wrenched the gun free, toppling Wade over backward.
Wade crab walked, blood streaking his face, breathing hard.
They both heard sirens now, and Mitch smiled. “Don’t worry. I’m sure they saved your old room in prison for you.”
Wade glowered, beaming hatred as he got to his feet. Mitch raised his weapon. “You won’t shoot me,” Wade said.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Foley inching closer, hands gripping his weapon. Wade edged backward, limping away toward the road. Mitch lowered his revolver and nodded at Foley. He would allow Foley to have the satisfaction of bringing in the fugitive who had escaped on his watch. This time the arrest and credit would go to Foley.
Foley gave a slight nod, the merest bob of his chin, as much thanks as he would ever show. Mitch didn’t care. Foley could have all the kudos he could collect as long as Jane and Ben were safe.
He holstered his gun and ignored the pain rippling through his back and ribs. Down the road, safely sequestered behind Danny Patron’s police car, he found Liam.
“Are they...?”
“See for yourself.” Liam pointed to the back seat.
Jane erupted from the car, Ben still sheltered in her arms. He blinked hard as she hurtled into his arms. Hands skimming her back, kissing her hair, murmuring silly nothings to Ben, he allowed himself to believe that God had delivered. Jane and Ben were safe.
He tried to speak, but his throat was locked shut. All he could do was hold her and Ben next to his heart and thank God.