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Authors: Aimee Thurlo

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“We need to play it smart,” Kim said. “Make her waste her ammo.”

Rick slowed to a crawl, then turned, blocking the road. “My feelings exactly. Follow me out on my side. Once the guys arrive we can move in. They’ll cover us.”

“Assault tactics.”

“Exactly, except they won’t open up unless Angelina actually starts shooting,” he said. “We’ll advance along both drainage ditches. Stay low and be ready to go prone if she opens fire.”

Preston, already briefed on the tactical plan, pulled up behind them. With backup now in place, Rick and Kim moved ahead to the silver vehicle. The smell of gasoline was thick in the air.

Rick looked around. “Her footprints don’t lead down the road toward the house. They lead off to the right. I can still track her.”

“Maybe she’s just circling around, hoping to lose us by climbing up some trail to the top of the mesa. Once she’s up there, she could shoot down on us,” Kim said.

“If she wanted to make a last stand, yes, but I don’t think she wants a fight, Kim. I think she’s looking to hide. She’ll head someplace she feels safe.”

He stood back from the cliff, looking along the upper third of the formation. Feeling the vibration on his cell phone, he brought his brothers up to speed. “There are shallow caves up there. My guess is she made it to one of those. Someone needs to keep watch for a rifle barrel poking out. Once we start our climb, she’ll have to poke her head out to shoot at us.”

“We’ll provide suppressive fire if she shows herself,” Preston replied.

Rick put the phone in his pocket and glanced over at Kim. “From this point on we’ll have to be as silent as possible.”

“All right. Let’s go.”

Pushing some dried tumbleweeds out of the way, they worked their way up. This slope was a lot easier to climb than the cliff where they’d found Hosteen Silver’s remains.

The first few caves were nothing more than low overhangs and were easy to see inside. He moved past them, signaling for Kim to remain in place. He then headed alone toward what looked like a deep cave.

He immediately found a small path and shoe prints. Angelina had come this way.

He glanced back and, spotting his brothers below, pointed ahead. He then signaled Kim to follow him.

As Rick got closer to the cave, he saw what looked like the barrel of a rifle lying on the floor of the cave. He motioned for Kim to hold her ground, then carefully advanced to a position beside the opening.

From where he stood, he could see that the lever of the rifle was half-open, a bent cartridge in the breech. A jam, probably caused in panic by an inexperienced shooter. Reaching over, he grabbed the barrel, pulled out the rifle and slid it down the slope. It hung up on some brush about fifteen feet from the opening.

Rick pulled a wide-beamed flashlight out of his pocket and examined the cave from outside. It was much bigger than the one he’d been in earlier that day, about five feet high toward the rear, maybe ten feet wide, and at least double that distance deep. At the back were what appeared to be two shrines.

Rick entered on his knees, rose to a crouch and discovered a pair of snapshots hanging on the rock wall above two sets of personal effects.

He recognized Hosteen Silver’s photo first. Beneath it, on the floor of the cave, were his foster father’s favorite jeans—an old pair with worn knees and a paint stain—and his bolo tie.

He focused the beam of the flashlight on the other photo. It was a photo showing Angelina in a wedding dress standing beside a man in a suit. That suit appeared to have been folded and placed below the photo, along with a gold wedding band.

Hearing a muted sound, he turned his head to see Kim crouched at the entrance.

“What is this place, a memorial?” Kim whispered, coming up beside him.

“Of a sort, I guess,” he answered in a quiet voice. As he looked into the darkness, he spotted a small flicker of light, like that from a cigarette lighter, followed by the soft glow of a newly lit candle.

The jar candle was on a large wooden box and beside it was Angelina, sitting on a low, three-legged stool. She was holding a shiny steel pistol in a shaky hand, the barrel aimed right at them. “You shouldn’t have followed me here. This is my place—and theirs. We can be together here.”

For a moment Rick had no words. Then he saw the basketball-size propane bottle beside the box, only a few feet from Angelina.

“You must miss them terribly,” Kim said, backing away slightly.

“They never really loved me, but here we’re together.”

“Angelina, put the pistol down and come outside with us,” Rick said. “More violence isn’t going to solve anything.”

“Don’t worry. We won’t suffer. We’ll all disappear in a big ball of light. I can’t miss.” She shifted, aiming the pistol at the valve on top of the propane bottle.

The woman was clearly not in her right mind. One shot would destroy the valve, the propane would escape and the candle would ignite the gas, blowing them to bits.

“It’s time for me to join my men. This wasn’t supposed to include you, too, but Hosteen Silver will appreciate the company.”

Seeing her finger tighten around the trigger, Rick grabbed Kim’s hand and yanked her to the ground. The pistol went off with an ear-shattering blast. The metal propane tank passed over their heads like a low-flying jet, bounced off the roof of the cave and disappeared out the opening.

Rick turned and saw Angelina on her side, staring at the candle, extinguished by the rush of air and gas. Dust began to shower down, followed by rocks and big chunks of sandstone.

“Out! Everything’s coming down,” he yelled, wrapping his arm around Kim and pulling her out of the cave.

They leaped out headfirst and slid down the steep slope several feet before he finally managed to grab a ledge with his free hand and stop their slide.

A faint scream somewhere above them was followed by a loud crash as the cave collapsed under the weight of the cliff above. The earth shook and clouds of dust shot out. Big chunks of rock came tumbling down.

Rick pulled Kim to his side, shielding her with his body as loose earth, plant debris and sandstone chunks pelted them.

They waited, heads buried beneath their arms until the earth stopped shaking. An enormous slab of sandstone directly overhead was teetering back and forth.

“Let’s move!”

They half slid, half crawled to the bottom, scrambling to their feet just as there was a final, enormous thud. The sandstone slab tipped, crashed onto the steep slope, then slid halfway down before coming to a stop in a cloud of dust.

Kim couldn’t stop shaking. “I thought we were done for,” she said, her voice breaking.

Rick pulled her into his arms. “Me, too, and all the time we were stuck there, all I could think of was how much time I’d wasted.”

He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. “I love you, Kim. Marry me.”

“Yes!”

They heard footsteps and broke apart to find his brothers standing there.

Daniel laughed. “Jeez, guy, you’re covered in dust and dirt, weeds and stickers in your hair—basically you look like a pistol-packing lizard that just crawled out of an ant bed. Where’s the romance? Couldn’t you have waited for wine and roses, or at least gotten down on one knee?”

“We’ll do the rest later, but I’m not wasting one more minute,” Rick replied, kissing her again.

“Quit goofing off, slacker,” Preston yelled from farther down. “We’ve still got work to do here.”

“Hey, don’t ruin the moment,” Daniel yelled back.

Rick looked down at Kim, then pointed. “Look at Copper Canyon, off in the distance. No matter what happens, it continues to stand. That’s the way it’ll be with us.”

“I know,” she said and kissed him. “Some things were just meant to be.”

Epilogue

A week had passed, and with all the major questions answered now, there was no reason not to resume their personal lives again.

Rick had wanted to keep their wedding simple, with only a justice of the peace, his brothers and their families present, including Kim's uncle Frank. The event, scheduled to begin in forty-five minutes, would be the first held at Copper Canyon.

While the women got ready in the next room, Rick stared at Hosteen Silver's journal. With all of them present, they'd read it at first light that morning.

“That's an amazingly detailed history of all the sacred objects he used for each Sing,” Rick said. “It's a very special kind of family history.”

“None of us will become medicine men, but this kind of knowledge should be preserved,” Kyle said.

“Let's keep it safe and secure for the next generation,” Preston suggested. “Think of the journal as Hosteen Silver's legacy.”

“I like that,” Paul said with a nod. “Who's to say one of our children won't become a medicine man or woman?”

Daniel's phone buzzed, signaling a text message. “It's the justice of the peace. He's running ahead of schedule.”

Paul went down the hall and knocked on the closed door. “The judge is going to be early. Fifteen minutes. You ladies okay with that?”

A moment later Kim came out and Rick moved to where she stood. “You look beautiful.”

She looked down at her dark silk slacks and lacy cream blouse. “I'm ready,” she said, running her fingers through her hair.

“It's not too late to change your mind if you want a fancier wedding.”

“No. This place made you the man you are, and everyone who counts in our lives is here, including my new family. I couldn't ask for more. It's perfect.”

Excitement was thick in the air as they gathered outside. It was truly an Indian summer at the moment. The October sun was high in the sky, it was almost seventy degrees and today the canyon was unusually silent. It was almost as if it were holding its breath.

A gentle breeze blew past them as they stood beside the tallest pine, a tiny blue feather from a piñon jay floated by. She caught it in her hand. “Look! How beautiful!”

Rick looked down at it, amazed. “Hosteen Silver had one he carried in his medicine pouch. It's a symbol of peace and happiness—a powerful omen.”

“You told me once that the good in him is part of Universal Harmony, so in a way, he's here with you today.”

“I think so, too,” Rick murmured, lifting her hand to his lips and kissing it gently.

The justice of the peace arrived. Climbing down from his oversize pickup, he joined the gathering. “We all here? Everyone ready?”

Seeing Rick nod, he opened a small book and began. “Dearly beloved...”

Memories were made one day at a time, and as Rick looked at his bride, he knew today was just the beginning.

* * * * *

Keep reading for an excerpt from DELIVERANCE AT CARDWELL RANCH by B.J. Daniels.

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Chapter One

Snow fell in a wall of white, giving Austin Cardwell only glimpses of the winding highway in front of him. He'd already slowed to a crawl as visibility worsened. Now on the radio, he heard that Highway 191 through the Gallatin Canyon—the very one he was on—was closed to all but emergency traffic.

“One-ninety-one from West Yellowstone to Bozeman is closed due to several accidents including a semi rollover that has blocked the highway near Big Sky. Another accident near West Yellowstone has also caused problems there. Travelers are advised to wait out the storm.”

Great,
Austin thought with a curse.
Wait out the storm where?
He hadn't seen any place to even pull over for miles let alone a gas station or café. He had no choice but to keep going. This was just what this Texas boy needed, he told himself with a curse. He'd be lucky if he reached Cardwell Ranch tonight.

The storm appeared to be getting worse. He couldn't see more than a few yards in front of the rented SUV's hood. Earlier he'd gotten a glimpse of the Gallatin River to his left. On his right were steep rock walls as the two-lane highway cut through the canyon. There was nothing but dark, snow-capped pine trees, steep mountain cliffs and the frozen river and snow-slick highway.

“Welcome to the frozen north,” he said under his breath as he fought to see the road ahead—and stay on it. He blamed his brothers—not for the storm, but for his even being here. They had insisted he come to Montana for the grand opening of the first Texas Boys Barbecue joint in Montana. They had postponed the grand opening until he was well enough to come.

Although the opening was to be January 1, his cousin Dana had pleaded with him to spend Christmas at the ranch.

You need to be here, Austin,
she'd said.
I promise you won't be sorry.

He growled under his breath now. He hadn't been back to Montana since his parents divorced and his mother took him and his brothers to Texas to live. He'd been too young to remember much. But he'd found he couldn't say no to Dana. He'd heard too many good things about her from his brothers.

Also, what choice did he have after missing his brother Tag's wedding last July?

As he slowed for another tight curve, a gust of wind shook the rented SUV. Snow whirled past his windshield. For an instant, he couldn't see anything. Worse, he felt as if he was going too fast for the curve. But he was afraid to touch his brakes—the one thing his brother Tag had warned him not to do.

Don't do anything quickly,
Tag had told him.
And whatever you do, don't hit your brakes. You'll end up in the ditch.

He caught something in his headlights. It took him a moment to realize what he was seeing before his heart took off at a gallop.

A car was upside down in the middle of the highway, its headlights shooting out through the falling snow toward the river, the taillights a dim red against the steep canyon wall. The overturned car had the highway completely blocked.

Copyright © 2014 by Barbara Heinlein

BOOK: Eagle's Last Stand
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