| |
––––––––
Carter held both horses, scanning the bank for tracks while Monty checked the shoreline. It seemed obvious Allie and Janet had followed the river. There wasn’t a lot of sign as they’d used the bigger rocks to hide their movement. However, the lichen on a granite slab had been disturbed, almost in the shape of a body, so clearly one of the women had taken a nap. He thought he could even catch the whiff of herbal soap.
He’d hidden his amusement from Monty but it was as if the women were playing with them. Yesterday, while riding long hot miles around the bog, Allie and Janet had been lounging by the river, enjoying the breeze and grabbing some sun. Of course, they would have needed clean water after being neck deep in a bog. He still couldn’t believe they’d waded into that wetland. But the evidence had been unmistakable. Two pairs of tracks led out at the exact spot where he and Monty had first stopped their horses.
Monty had been shocked as well, but also frustrated. They’d made the mistake of underestimating their quarry and ridden around the entire bog. Now they were at least a half day behind. This morning, they’d risen at the crack of dawn and followed the tracks to the river, determined to overtake the women before the end of the day.
At first, their sign had been easy to read. It looked like the women had headed northwest along the riverbank. But a couple of the overturned rocks were a little too obvious. Up to now, they’d been surprisingly clever at hiding their tracks. Why change now?
He mounted Hawk, turned him away from the river and scrutinized the ground heading over the bank and into the brush. There wasn’t much disturbance, just the broken tip of a branch and a twisted fern. It could have been made by a deer coming to drink.
He rose in the stirrups, gaining a greater height advantage. And spotted a partial print. Most of it had been brushed away, but not all. He guided both horses closer and stared down at a V-shaped tread: Allie’s boot.
Swiveling in the saddle, he signaled Monty who hurried back along the shore.
Carter gestured at the print. “Looks like they split up here.”
“Good catch,” Monty said, nodding with approval. “So Allie went into the woods and Janet stuck to the river. I wonder why they separated?”
Carter just stared pensively at the lone print. Janet was out to win and probably had convinced Allie to act as a decoy. But Allie was taking the more difficult route while Janet was speeding along the shoreline. And why had Allie tried to hide her tracks? If he hadn’t caught her boot print, they wouldn’t have realized the women had separated.
“What’s in there?” he asked, studying the brambles surrounding Allie’s print.
“Miles and miles of dense brush,” Monty said. “There’s an old logging road but without GPS it’s easy to miss.”
“Do you think the race ends in there?” Carter asked.
“No way.” Monty’s tone was emphatic. “The finish line is always at a spot with vehicle access. Contestants are exhausted and in a hurry to get back to the ranch. So are the horses.”
Carter squeezed the bridge of his nose. He didn’t know this area like Monty but he had researched the maps and topography. There were only three spots left with a road big enough for a horse trailer: fifteen miles northwest at the bridge, twenty-three miles due west at a fire tower, and the ranger station which was even further away.
“So Janet must be booting it for the bridge,” Carter said. “That has to be where the race ends, considering the time limit.”
“Yup. Gotta be the bridge.” Monty took off his cowboy hat and wiped his sweaty brow. “And we need to catch her before she reaches the finish line.”
“But we can’t leave Allie wandering alone in the bush,” Carter said, careful to keep his voice neutral.
“We can’t ride our horses through that mess,” Monty said. “She has a compass. Once she returns to the river, she can follow it out. Only she’ll be a day late. If she wanted to give up, she would have called in on the radio. Or sat here and waited for us. That’s how the game works.”
“But she’s alone.” This time Carter couldn’t hide his dismay. Naturally he’d known plenty of tough ladies. The circuit was full of women who ate nails for breakfast. One had to be tough to ride horses for a living. But Allie wasn’t one of them. And he’d been raised to believe that if a woman needed help, a man gave it to her. No matter the situation.
“Her choice,” Monty said. But he tugged at the brim of his hat and his voice was troubled. Obviously he was concerned too—just not enough to quit his dogged pursuit of Janet.
“We can’t let Janet get away,” Monty added, his voice strengthening. “This is exactly what they wanted to happen. And you can’t afford to lose this race. I thought you wanted this job?”
Carter stared blankly into the brush. He did want the job. His rodeo career had bottomed out following Jenica’s accusation. He’d lost most of his sponsors. But it wasn’t just that. He could still win day money. However, people remembered the scandal, not the truth, and he no longer felt worthy of the profession. Not only had he let his fans down but also his cherished horses. His heart still ached when he thought of Smokey, Nifty, Jack, Blue and Rebel.
The ranch offered the lifestyle he enjoyed with none of the commitment—to people or to the animals. He barely rode the same horse twice. Guests were a blur of arrivals and departures, remaining faceless and nameless. He was mildly surprised when anyone wanted his autograph, but it only left him feeling like an imposter.
His notoriety hadn’t scared off Sharon Barrett though. She’d shrugged away his concerns, saying that would be a bonus as a tracker and as long as she could use his photo images, everyone would be happy. She’d also promised that outside of his roping lessons, he wouldn’t have to concern himself with others.
But he couldn’t stop worrying about Allie. Maybe she was disoriented. He didn’t know why she’d gone into that thick brush. He only knew he couldn’t ride away, and if that resulted in letting Janet escape, so be it. He wouldn’t be able to look at himself in the mirror if he left a woman alone and helpless.
“Nothing we can do about it,” Monty added, taking Carter’s silence as agreement. “That land isn’t fit for a horse.”
Carter didn’t reply. He just stepped down from Hawk, unfastened his saddlebags then his lariat.
“Don’t be rash.” Monty’s voice lifted. “Those tracks are at least ten hours old. And your boots aren’t made for walking.”
“Guess if Allie can do it, so can I.”
“I dunno. That lady is proving damn resilient. Maybe she already flagged down a four-wheeler and is being driven home in style.”
“I hope so,” Carter said. “But if she’s still in there, she might need help. Look after Hawk for me.” He gave his horse an affectionate pat and tossed the saddlebags over his shoulder. “And catch Janet before she reaches the bridge.”
“I will,” Monty said. “But my catching Janet won’t help with your job security. You know that, right? Although I guess I wouldn’t leave my woman alone out there either.” He surprised Carter by raising his hand and giving a respectful tip of his hat.
“She’s not my woman,” Carter said.
Monty just winked, turned the horses and rode away.
