Montana Standoff. Sharon Dunn

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      The hood went back over her head. A cold hand touched the back of her neck. The low voice was seductive. “Where is Crew Langston? Did you put him on a bus, help him get out of town?”

      She shook her head, unable to form the words. Her heart pounded. She couldn’t stop shaking.

      “All right, lady, this is it.” The hard gun barrel pressed against her temple.

      Braced for another gunshot, she startled when she heard a thwacking sound, like a hard object making contact with flesh. One of the men groaned, and the gun was no longer pressed against her head. Flesh smacked against flesh. Men grunted. A body hit the ground close to her. Sarah struggled to get to her feet. Strong hands wrapped around her upper arm, warming her skin.

      “Let’s get you out of here and to a safe place.” The voice sounded vaguely familiar. A hand grazed her forehead, lifting the hood off.

      Her rescuer’s eyes grew wide with recognition as her breath caught. Bryan Keyes. The man she thought she’d never see again. The man who had broken her heart into a thousand pieces.

      The larger of the two assailants, curled up on the ground, stirred.

      “Come on, we’ve gotta move. I’ll cut you loose as soon as I can.” Bryan glanced around. He was probably looking for the gun or the best direction to run.

      Acne Scars lay facedown, not moving. A log not too far from him must have been used to knock him out. But Deep Voice had started opening his eyes. They couldn’t wait any longer—they needed to move.

      Bryan must have reached the same conclusion because he shook his head and then pulled Sarah toward the trees. She ran, hindered by her hands still tied behind her back. Bryan held her arm to steady her.

      He pulled her deeper into the trees until they came to a steep incline.

      “No way can I climb that with my hands tied,” she protested.

      He glanced over his shoulder, pulled a pocketknife out of his worn jeans and cut the ropes that bound her wrists together.

      “Better?” His fingers brushed over her wrist where the rope had dug in. Even after ten years, his touch had the power to make her heart flutter.

      She stepped away. “Wait, what if we tried to get to the car they parked by the lake?” The shouts of Deep Voice barking orders to Acne Scars reached her ears.

      “We’d run right into them.” He scrambled partway up the rock and turned back, holding his hand out to her. She took his help. They climbed until they came to a steep rock face.

      “I’ll boost you up and then you can pull me up,” he said.

      Down below, she caught a flash of movement. Deep Voice was wearing a bright yellow shirt, easy to see amongst the evergreens. And easy to realize that he was catching up. “Where are you taking me?”

      “Some place safe where we can call for help.” He glanced down the mountain.

      She hesitated.

      “Trust me, I know this part of the forest,” he said. “Come on, we can’t stop.” He laced his fingers together, indicating that she should put her foot in them.

      What choice did she have? She’d prayed for God to send help and He had. Now it was up to her to make the most of it. Sarah put her foot in Bryan’s hands. He pushed upward as she reached out for a handhold. God must have a sense of humor. Of all the people in the world, He’d sent Bryan. Ten years was a long time. She’d been a sophomore in high school and he a senior when they’d fallen in love. Or what passes for love in a sixteen-year-old’s heart. She couldn’t say now if she had loved him or had just been desperate to be loved. But at the time, it sure had felt real.

      With Bryan pushing her up from below, she reached for a gnarled tree sprouting up close to the rock. She pulled herself up, gripping the tree with both hands. Bryan gave her a final push. She turned and reached down for him.

      “I think I can get a foothold.” He grabbed her hand, their eyes meeting momentarily.

      The love between them had shattered when she became pregnant. They had agreed that the best thing for their little girl was adoption. But Bryan had been so angry afterward, had blamed her as though the decision hadn’t been made together.

      Bryan strained to get up the cliff face. “Other hand,” he groaned.

      She held both his hands and pulled as he struggled to get some traction with his feet. The muscles in her arms strained. “Almost there.”

      She pulled with all her strength, dragging him to the flat top of the cliff face. She leaned back, breathless from the exertion. Bryan scrambled to his feet.

      “Come on.” He held his hand out to her. The August sun beat down on them, the air thick with heat. Down below, the two thugs were weaving their way up the mountain, choosing an easier but less direct path.

      “Where are we going, anyway?” Sarah still hadn’t caught her breath.

      “We need to get help, call the sheriff,” he said.

      She stared up at the rocky terrain. “Isn’t there an easier way?”

      “Sarah, would you trust me? I work here—I know where I’m going. Those guys won’t be able to follow us. They’ll give up.”

      It was the first time he’d said her name. The warmth in his voice only reminded her of ten-year-old wounds. “I really don’t have a choice here. I’ll do what you say.” She wasn’t so sure about the men giving up, though.

      They crawled over rocks and through thick brush. A branch flicked across her forehead. She kept moving despite the stinging pain and the warm ooze of blood. The fire tower came into sight. So, he was some kind of forest ranger? By the time he’d left town to go to college, he hadn’t spoken to her in months.

      He led her up the narrow metal stairs into the tower, then stepped over to a small stand that contained the radio. He keyed the radio explaining that he needed a replacement and then said something about notifying the sheriff. He gave a brief but accurate description of the two thugs and their car.

      While he talked, Sarah wandered around the sparse room. A double burner for cooking rested on a counter. Canned goods and gallons of water were stacked against the wall. An instrument of some sort with a map was in the dead center of the circular room. There was a desk and a chair in one corner, a cot in another. She sat down on the chair. A stack of books rested by the bed. He must stay up here weeks at a time. Yet, the place was utterly impersonal. Why had Bryan chosen such a solitary life? What had happened in the ten years since she’d seen him?

      Bryan signed off and placed the radio back on the hook. He turned to face her. Those same warm brown eyes looked out at her, though they were edged with crow’s-feet and worry lines now, and there was a hint of weariness in his expression that hadn’t been there ten years ago. They had both been so naive and full of hope back then.

      “What now?” She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees.

      He walked over to the windows, picked up the binoculars and peered down the mountain. “We catch our breath.”

      “We СКАЧАТЬ