Showdown at Widow Creek (10 page)

Once they were out of sight, I struggled against my bonds. The ropes were tied so tightly that I could tell there was no way of wriggling out of them. My fingers already felt a bit numb.

I saw that Joe was busy doing the same. “Can you get loose?” I asked.

“Working on it,” he replied. “But it doesn’t look good.”

“What do you mean?” I asked. “You always get loose first.”

Joe grinned. “Not always. You get lucky sometimes.”

Sarah’s head spun to each of us, tracking the conversation. “Just how many times have you two been tied up?”

Joe rolled his eyes. “Let’s see . . . too many to count, really.”

“Yeah.” I nodded. “It kind of comes with the territory.”

Joe grinned. “We’re actually in our element now.”

Sarah was struggling between us but not as much. “How about you?” I asked. “Can you get free?”

“I’m not trying to get out of the ropes,” she said. “I’m trying to reach my multi-tool.”

Joe and I stopped moving.

“You have a multi-tool?” he asked. “The kind with pliers, a file . . .”

“And a knife?” I finished.

Sarah cringed as she twisted her body one last time. She relaxed and exhaled. “Yeah. But I can’t reach it.” She turned to me. “It’s in a leather pouch on my belt, on my right side. Can you get to it?”

I turned away from her as far as the ropes across my stomach would allow. I reached my bound hands back and spread my fingers. They brushed against the small pouch. “I can feel it,” I said.

I pushed closer and jabbed a finger under its flap. I felt it snap open. “Almost there.” I stretched two fingers wide. “Got it.”

“Hand it to me,” Sarah instructed. “I know where the knife is.”

“Okay.” I stretched out my hands as Sarah’s fingers reached for the tool. Now my fingers were already numb, and as I strained against the ropes, they got worse. So bad that I lost my grip on the tool. I felt it hit my ankle on the way down.

Sarah hadn’t noticed. “Where is it?” Her fingers brushed against mine.

“Um . . . ,” I started.

Joe sighed and hung his head. “You dropped it, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, I kind of did,” I replied.

“Aw, man,” Joe said. “You always do that.”

“I don’t always do that,” I replied. “The rope is too tight. My fingers are numb.”

“Guys,” Sarah said.

“Of course the rope is too tight,” said Joe. “If it wasn’t too tight, I’d be out by now.”

“Guys, stop,” Sarah ordered. But we didn’t listen.

“You’re the big Houdini fan,” I said. “He would have escaped by now.”

“Hey, don’t bring the Big H into this,” Joe sneered.

“Guys!” she yelled.

“What?!!” we shouted back.

She cocked her head. “Listen.”

I had become used to the obnoxious construction noises behind us. But now, the rumbling and cracking grew louder. I leaned to the right and craned my neck to see. From my odd angle, I could barely get one eye to peek around the wide tree. I gasped when I spotted the bulldozer clearing a path toward us. Brush and dirt churned up in its path.

“It’s a bulldozer,” I reported. “And it’s coming right for us.”

“We’re cool,” said Joe. “A bulldozer can’t knock down a tree this big.”

My heart raced. “No, but the bulldozer just clears a path for that other thing, right? The thing with the claws and the built-in chain saw? You know, the one that cuts the tree at about”—I glanced back at the tree—“about where we are!”

Joe’s eyes widened. “We’re toast.”

I
LEANED MY HEAD FORWARD
and scanned the ground. “Where’s that multi-tool again?”

Frank and Sarah were already shuffling their feet, moving around dry leaves, trying to find the lost tool.

The rumbling behind us grew louder. Again, I turned, trying to glimpse the bulldozer behind us, but I couldn’t see anything.

“I see it!” Frank shouted.

“Push it to my feet,” Sarah told him. “I can pick it up.”

I turned back to Sarah. “Really?”

“I think so,” she told me. “I have an idea. Get your hands close to my side.”

“Got it,” I replied. I twisted to the left, jutting my bound hands as close to her as possible.

The stink of burning diesel thickened as the ground vibrated.

“Here it comes.” Frank nudged the tool toward Sarah’s feet.

She positioned the multi-tool between her boots and slowly lifted both feet off the ground, just as she had done during the rodeo. She grimaced as the ropes dug into her stomach. Once her feet were parallel to the ground, she kicked her legs up and released the tool. It arced up and landed on her shins.

“Way to go, gymnast trick rider,” I shouted.

“Get ready,” she croaked, her voice straining.

Sarah’s body trembled as she raised her legs higher. The heavy tool began to slide along her jeans. It passed her knees and moved toward her thighs. Sarah grunted as she twisted her legs to the left and raised them even higher. Picking up speed, the tool slid across her left leg and into the air. I spread my fingers as wide as I could. . . .

“Got it!” I shouted.

Sarah’s legs fell to the ground, and she gasped for air.

Suddenly the entire world seemed to shake as something slammed into the tree behind us. The tool nearly tumbled from my hands.

“What was that?” Sarah asked.

Frank leaned over. “The bulldozer. It hit the tree.”

“Well, yell at the guy,” I said. “Let him know we’re here.”

“Hey!” Frank yelled. “Help! We’re trapped here! Hey!”

I ran my fingers over the tool. “Where’s the knife on this thing?”

“It’s on one of the sides,” Sarah replied. “You don’t have to open the pliers to get to it.”

I closed my eyes and concentrated on finding the knife blade. Between the loud engines, the fuel smells, and the backup beeps, it was hard to focus.

“He’s backing up,” Frank reported. “He couldn’t hear me. I think he’s wearing ear protection.”

I ran my fingers over the tool and pulled out one of its components. Sharp blade. Pointy tip. It was the knife. “I found it!”

“You better hurry,” Frank warned. “Because I think the bulldozer’s finished.”

“No pressure,” I said as I rotated the knife. The key was to cut the rope and not my skin. I’d done it before, just not with the looming threat of being sawed in half.

The trouble was I didn’t just have to cut through the ropes holding my hands—I’d also have to cut through the thicker rope holding us to the tree.

“I think I see the big tractor coming,” Frank reported.

“Help!” Sarah shouted. “Can anyone hear us?!!”

“Hey!” Frank joined her. “We’re back here!”

I positioned the blade onto the rope and began to saw.

Here’s a fact about cutting your way out of ropes. Depending on how you were tied up (what kind of knot, how many loops, etc.), you may have to cut through several strands, not just one. I couldn’t really tell how the bandanna brothers had tied us. And even if I could, it would have been hard to remember between the vibrating ground, Frank and Sarah’s yelling, and the threat of imminent death. I just hoped one strand would do the trick.

“How’s it going, Joe?!!” Frank shouted. “It’s almost here!”

“Just a second . . .” I sawed faster.

“I hope we have that long,” Sarah said before going back to yelling at the driver.

I felt a release of pressure as I cut through the rope. Luckily, it only took one strand, and my hands were free. I arched my back and pulled my hands out from behind me. With the knife in my left hand, I went to work on the rope holding us to the tree.

“Joe?” Frank asked.

“Don’t rush me!” I shouted as I sawed faster. The rope was thicker and hard to cut through.

The world shook again as something bigger hit the back of the tree. I was pushed forward against the ropes. The blade jostled away from the rope. I reached back to finish the cut.

Sarah screamed as the giant claws slammed onto either side of the tree. The knife trembled in my hand as I went back to work on the rope. A deafening whine filled the air as the chain saw powered up.

“Lean forward!” Frank ordered. I could barely make out what he said. “Push against the rope! Hard!”

The tip of the chain saw appeared on my side of the tree. I was barely halfway through the rope. I wasn’t going to cut through in time. I closed my eyes and did as Frank instructed, lowering my head and pushing against the rope as hard as I could. Wood chips dusted my face as the chain saw began cutting the tree.

“Aaaaaah!” I screamed.

I had the sensation of falling just before something smacked me square in the face.

I opened my eyes to see that I was facedown on the forest floor. I scrambled onto my back and saw the strangest thing—the tree, standing straight up, floating away. It wasn’t really floating; it just looked like it from my vantage point as the giant tractor backed away with its prize.

“Hey!” Frank shouted. “Is everyone okay?” His hands still tied behind his back, he struggled to roll off his face.

Sarah tried to sit up next to him. “What happened? How are we not cut in half?”

“When I saw where the thing clamped down on the tree, I knew that the built-in chain saw would cut the ropes as it sliced into the tree,” Frank explained. “We would have had about half a second to get clear.”

“That was too close,” Sarah said.

“But close enough.” I untied her hands. “I wasn’t going to cut through in time.” I gave her back the multi-tool.

Sarah closed the knife blade. “You should’ve used the blade with the serrated edge. Cuts through rope like butter.”

“Now she tells me.” I rolled my eyes. “I’ll remember that the next time I’m in a similar situation.”

She got to her feet. “If this happens to you as often as you say it does, you’d better remember.”

I untied Frank and we followed Sarah back toward the creek. As promised, Norman, Harvey, and Hondo were missing. And I especially missed them as we waded through the cold creek and trudged up the steep cliff trail.

Once at the top, we turned to view the destruction once more. The last of the downed trees was being loaded, as well as the giant cutter, the one that almost sliced us in half. The poachers had finished stripping this part of the forest.

“By the time we make it back to the ranch, they’ll be off the property,” Sarah said. “They got away with it after all.”

“Mike and Tim, too,” I added. “Safe with their phony alibis.”

Sarah turned and trudged through the woods toward the ranch. Frank and I followed in silence.

We stepped out of the tree line and were greeted by three men on horseback. We froze in our tracks. Mike and Tim scowled down at us, but that wasn’t the surprising part. The rider in front wore a six-shooter and had an all-too-familiar face.

Sarah gasped. “Lucky?”

A
T FIRST I WASN’T SURPRISED
to see Lucky with the two masked bandits. After all, we’d suspected him of being involved with them somehow. But as I quickly took in the scene, some things didn’t quite fit. The bandanna brothers no longer hid their faces. Neither one of them wore a gun belt. Lucky was the only one with a six-shooter. And both Mike and Tim had their hands tied in front of them.

“Heard you ran into a little trouble,” Lucky said with a grin.

“Hey!” Joe said. “You caught the bad guys!”

Lucky nodded. “That I did.”

“How?” I asked.

“After the fire was out, I tracked you to Widow Creek.” He jutted a thumb over his shoulder. “I caught these two heading out with your horses.”

“But they were armed,” Sarah said.

“Oh, it took a little persuading.” Lucky smiled. “But I got them to give themselves up and tell me about their side job for some poachers.”

I noticed that one of them had the beginnings of a black eye. The other had a split lip and a swollen nose. Joe must’ve seen the same thing.

“That’s what I’m talking about,” he said. “Real cowboy stuff right there! Tracking . . . fisticuffs . . .” He held up both fists.

“Fisticuffs?” I raised an eyebrow at my brother. “Really?”

Joe grinned and nodded. “Oh, yeah.”

“Got your horses over there.” Lucky pointed farther down the tree line, where Harvey, Norman, and Hondo were tied to a tree.

I felt a twang of guilt for suspecting Lucky. Lucky was one of the good guys.

“I wish we could’ve caught the poachers, too,” Sarah said.

“I wouldn’t worry about them,” Lucky reassured us. “I just got off the phone with the sheriff’s department. By the time those trucks hit the west gate, there’ll be a couple of deputies waiting for them.”

“Wait. What happened to no cell phones on the trail?” Joe asked.

“That’s just for the tourists.” Lucky reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a smartphone. “Besides, you know how many good cowboy apps I have? Campfire recipes, a compass, knot tutorials, stargazing . . . I love memorizing constellations.”

I grinned at Joe. “Real cowboy stuff.”

Lucky laughed. “
Modern
cowboy stuff.”

The three of us mounted up and rode back to the ranch. Once there, Lucky turned Mike and Tim over to a sheriff’s deputy. Sarah, Joe, and I gave statements that added a bunch of charges that went way beyond mere timber poaching and sabotage. After all that ugly business was taken care of, Wally came through with his promise of cowboy barbecue.

Like the previous meals, everyone gathered to eat and share stories about the day’s adventures. Except this time, there was the entire cattle drive to discuss, not to mention our adventure at Widow Creek.

Wally’s cooking was excellent as usual; there was barbecued brisket, chicken, pork ribs, corn on the cob, and beans.

After the meal, Wally put his arms around our shoulders. “Boys, I want to thank you for your hard work,” he said. “Cowhand-wise
and
detective-wise. If you ever want to hit the trail with us again, you just say the word.”

“Way cool!” Joe said. It was clear he would do it all again in a heartbeat.