In a Killer’s Sights (7 page)

The collie inched closer and sniffed at her fingers, then licked them. Gwen smiled and reached out tentatively to touch the dog’s flat head. When she heard a soft whine, she let her hand drift over the ears, with tips that folded forward. “You’re the most beautiful dog I’ve ever seen.”

“I see you’ve met Sadie.”

Gwen jerked her head up and smiled as Emmett stepped out of the barn. He stopped beside her, and she gave the dog one last pat before she rose to her feet. “She’s a beauty. Are her puppies in the barn?”

He took off his hat, wiped his sleeve across his forehead and laughed. “Yeah. Dean thought he had a nice place fixed up for her at the house, but I guess she decided she liked it down here better. They’re a week old now.”

“Do you think she’d let me look at them?”

“Sure. Come on in.” As he led her down the alleyway, Gwen inhaled the smells of hay, sweet feed, leather and the distinctive odor of manure, all reminders of happier times here with Dean.

She blinked back tears and stopped beside Emmett at the entrance to a stall. “There they are,” he said. “All six of them. This is the stall where Dean keeps his horse, Midnight, but when Sadie took it over as a birthing room, he decided to let her have the whole area. Midnight had to be moved to another stall.”

Sadie inched closer to Gwen, and she reached down and patted the dog’s head. “Dean must really love her.”

“Oh, yeah. Dean loves animals. James used to laugh and say we were going to run out of grazing space if Dean didn’t quit bringing horses home. He makes it his business to find horses that have been saved from abuse and adopt them. I’ve lost count of how many we have now. In fact, the one you’re going to ride today is a rescue horse.”

“Really?”

“Dean found Princess at a shelter after she’d been taken away from a man who wouldn’t feed her. She was just skin and bones when he brought her home, and she’s turned out to be one of our best horses for trail rides. I’ve already got her saddled for you, and I’m ready to go. So let’s get on the trail to Crystal Falls.”

“Sounds good to me,” Gwen said as she followed him toward the rear entrance of the barn. She looked back and found Sadie staring after them. The collie glanced from Gwen to her puppies before she turned and trotted into the stall.

Emmett stopped at a stall near the back and led a palomino mare out into the aisle. Gwen gasped in awe as she caught her first glimpse of Princess. Her gold coat and white mane sparkled even in the dim light of the barn.

Gwen reached out and slid her hand down the animal’s mane. Princess gave a snort and nodded her head as if she approved, and Gwen felt an immediate bond with the horse.

“I’m going to enjoy riding her.”

“Then let’s get going,” Emmett said. “Do you need any help mounting up?”

Gwen grabbed the reins, hefted her foot up to the stirrup and swung into the saddle. “I’m used to riding, so don’t worry about me. I’m just eager to get started.”

Thirty minutes later she closed her eyes and lifted her face up to the warm sunshine as she relaxed in the saddle. The steady rhythm of Princess’s stride lulled her into an almost dreamlike state, and she couldn’t remember how long it had been since she’d felt that way. It was as if the stress from the responsibilities of being a single mother and the sole breadwinner in the family had vanished, and a peace that she’d always drawn from these mountains had taken over her body.

Emmett, who was leading the way on his horse, Cocoa, swiveled in the saddle and looked back at her. “There’s a small stream up ahead that we have to cross. The horses are used to the water, so don’t worry.”

Gwen could already hear the quiet ripple of flowing water, and she rose in the stirrups to catch a glimpse of the stream. Ahead she could see a meandering, shallow river dotted with rocks, and she let her gaze drift up and down the banks. She spotted several dead trees on the far side and frowned. Victims of the pollution her documentary wanted to expose?

Princess stepped into the stream, and water splashed up around Gwen’s boots. Ahead of her Emmett’s horse was already climbing onto the far bank. Before he could proceed any farther along the trail, Gwen called out to him, “Emmett, hold up!”

He reined in his horse and turned to look at her. “What is it?”

She nudged Princess forward and then pulled back on the reins when they reached Cocoa. Gwen swept her arm in an arc. “This is a gorgeous spot. I think it would be perfect for some location shots.”

The foreman nodded. “Okay. Take all the time you need.”

Gwen dismounted and pulled her cell phone from her pocket. She’d just snapped the first picture when the sudden crack of a rifle split the air. She watched in disbelief as Emmett toppled from the saddle and hit the ground.

“Emmett!” she screamed and dropped to her knees beside him.

A second shot whistled over her head, and Gwen flattened herself on the grass. With a whinny, Princess bolted back across the stream and down the trail, with Cocoa charging behind her. Gwen started to call after them, but before she could, a third shot kicked up dirt a few inches from her foot.

Emmett, blood staining the front of his shirt, pushed himself up on his knees and reached for her. “We’ve got to get to those trees,” he said. “We need some cover.”

Gwen reached down and grabbed his arm, supporting him as he staggered to his feet. Together they stumbled toward the shelter of the forest. Another bullet hit a pin oak beside them, and bark struck her face.

Gwen and Emmett scrambled toward the tree line and dived onto their stomachs into the cool darkness of the forest floor as another bullet slammed to the ground just behind them. She tugged on Emmett’s arm and pulled him behind a tree, then propped her back against another one.

“How badly are you hurt?” she called out.

“I’m hit in the shoulder,” he said, and a moan escaped his lips. “Call Dean and tell him what’s happening. Tell him we’re at Rattlesnake Creek, pinned down by a shooter.”

She reached for her cell phone and then groaned in despair. The device lay at the edge of the stream, where she’d dropped it when the first shot was fired. “I lost my cell phone!”

“Mine’s in my shirt pocket, but I don’t think I can get it out.”

Gwen debated what to do. If she left the cover of the tree where she was huddled, she might expose herself to the shooter. But if she didn’t call for help, he might close in on them and kill them both. She looked at Emmett, whose shirt was becoming more blood-soaked by the minute. If she didn’t do something, he might bleed to death. Her decision made, she crawled over to him and slipped his phone from his shirt pocket.

“Ranch is number one on speed dial. Somebody will answer.”

“Don’t worry, Emmett. Help will come.” Her fingers shook so badly the phone almost slipped from her fingers.

Before it could, Emmett grabbed her hand and squeezed it. “Gun,” he gasped. “G-get it out of my belt holster.” He grimaced in pain and bit down on his lip. “Extra clip there, too. You know how to shoot?”

She bobbed her head in a quick nod. “Yes. Dean taught me when we were married.”

The cowboy’s chest rose in a quick breath. “Good. Call him. Then you gotta keep the shooter busy until help can come.”

Before he could say anything else, his eyes closed and he slumped to the ground. Panicked, Gwen felt for a pulse and breathed a sigh of relief when she felt a weak one.

The front of Emmett’s shirt was now soaked with his blood, and it ran down on the gun holstered on his belt. Nausea curled in Gwen’s stomach. It had been several years since she’d fired a weapon. She didn’t know if she could or not. As if in answer to her thought, another bullet sailed past where they lay, and she pulled the gun and the extra clip free from the holster. A quick glance told her she had fourteen shots at the most. She was going to have to space them out and make each one count until help arrived.

With shaking fingers, she aimed the gun toward the creek and fired. A rifle shot answered, and she ducked down beside Emmett. Quickly, she punched the speed dial and held her breath, hoping someone would answer. Tears began to roll down her face when she heard Dean’s familiar voice on the phone. “Emmett? I didn’t expect to hear from you.”

“Dean!” Gwen screamed. “We’re at Rattlesnake Creek, and someone’s shooting at us.”

“What?” His loud voice vibrated in her ear. “Are you all right?”

“I am, but Emmett’s been shot. We managed to get to some trees before he passed out, but the shooter is still out there. I have Emmett’s gun. I think I can hold him off for a little while, but we need help.”

The words were no sooner out of her mouth than another bullet slammed into a tree trunk near them. She screamed, and Dean shouted in her ear, “Stay where you are! I’m on my way with help!”

The call disconnected, and Gwen felt the tears washing her cheeks. Emmett’s face had turned pale and his breathing was erratic. She had to do something to help slow the blood flow until Dean could arrive. She leaned over Emmett, placed her left hand on the wound and pressed down as hard as she could, hoping the pressure would help. With her right hand, she fired off another round toward their attacker.

Remember to count. That was two bullets. Don’t empty both clips before Dean gets here.

As the minutes ticked by, she and the shooter played a game of call and response. He would send a shot into the forest where she and Emmett lay, and she would answer with one of her own, keeping count all the time. Then no sound or movement would occur for a few minutes. Just when she would think he must have left, another rifle crack would echo through the air, and a bullet would strike near where they lay on the forest floor. He was stringing her out deliberately, waiting for her to run out of ammunition.

How long had it been since she’d talked to Dean? Fifteen minutes? Twenty? She wasn’t sure. It had taken Emmett and her thirty minutes to reach Rattlesnake Creek, but they had ridden slowly, almost at a walk. Dean would ride faster.
Don’t worry. He’ll be here soon
,
she told herself for perhaps the tenth time.

Emmett moaned and twitched, but she released the pressure on his chest only long enough to change the clips. Suddenly she stilled and listened. The rippling gurgle that came from the river had changed. The sound of splashing water reached her ears. Someone was wading through the stream. It had to be the shooter. Her heart raced as she cowered behind the tree, Emmett’s blood covering her hands.

“I’m coming for you,” a singsong voice taunted from nearby.

She pressed her lips together. To respond to his jeer would reveal their hiding place, but he was headed straight for where they lay, and that meant death. Gripping the gun so tightly her knuckles turned white, she pulled the trigger twice. How many bullets did she have left now?

A shrill laugh rose from near the creek. “Too bad. Missed again. You got away yesterday, but you won’t today. Won’t Dean be surprised when he finds the bodies of his foreman and wife?”

How did he know she had been married to Dean? The truth suddenly dawned on her. Dean was the primary target of the killer, not her. His first victim had been Gramps, and she’d just happened on the scene. Now that this guy knew she was connected to Dean, she was also in his sights.

She raised her head enough to get a view of the stream, and her heart nearly stopped beating. A black-clothed man wearing a mask was nearing the bank, directly in line with where they lay. She aimed the gun and fired off three shots, striking the water around him. With a roar of anger, he retreated to the opposite bank, then stopped.

“I’m through playing games!” he shouted. “I’m coming to finish this off!”

Gwen released the hold on Emmett’s shoulder, gripped the gun with both hands and stared down the barrel. With only two bullets left, there was no way she could fend off an attack by a killer with a rifle.

Her heart hammering, she gritted her teeth and aimed the gun toward the creek bank as she whispered a silent prayer. “Please, God. Let Dean get here before it’s too late.”

SEVEN

D
ean’s heart beat in rhythm with Midnight’s thundering hooves as they raced up the trail to Rattlesnake Creek. Behind him he could hear the hoofbeats of the horses his ranch hands Luke and Jed rode. He was thankful they’d just come back from leading a trail ride when he’d swung into the saddle and yelled for them to follow him. Now they were almost there. He prayed they weren’t too late to save Gwen and Emmett.

A rifle crack followed by three quick pistol shots echoed through the mountain valley, and his heartbeat quickened. He urged Midnight on faster as he squinted ahead. Just a few more yards and the creek would come into view.

He rounded the last curve in the trail. There it was, about a hundred yards away. And the sight that met his eyes impacted him like a kick to the stomach. A figure dressed in black and wearing a black ski mask stood on the bank, his gun aimed at a grove of trees on the opposite side. Before Dean could react, the man fired off a shot, and a small limb of a pine dropped to the ground.

Dean deepened his seat in the saddle, braced his legs against Midnight’s sides and gave two short tugs on the reins. The horse came to an immediate stop, as he’d been trained to do. “You, there,” Dean yelled as he jerked his rifle from its scabbard. “What do you think you’re doing?”

The man whirled, but Dean was ready. He fired two shots in quick succession over the man’s head. Startled by the sudden blast of gunfire, Midnight whinnied and shied sideways, just as a bullet whizzed past Dean’s ear and struck a tree nearby. Crouching low in the saddle, he urged his mount toward the creek with Luke and Jed right behind him. The man turned and bolted into the trees behind him.

By the time they reached the stream, the shooter had disappeared into the dense growth. Dean stood up in the stirrups, waved his hand in the direction the man had gone, and yelled at Luke and Jed, “Go after him!”

The two men, almost in unison, called out the command to stop as they dropped their reins and let them dangle. With their horses ground tied, they jumped from their saddles and headed off into the woods after the shooter. Dean urged Midnight forward and splashed through the water to the opposite bank.

“Gwen! Where are you?” he called out.

“Here!” she cried, and he guided the horse toward the sound of her voice.

He stopped Midnight just short of the trees, dismounted and ducked under a low-hanging branch. As he entered the forest he saw her almost immediately. She knelt beside an unconscious Emmett, one hand pressed to his chest and the other aiming a gun at Dean.

He stopped and stretched out his arms toward her. “Honey, it’s me. Dean. Put the gun down. You’re safe now.”

She slowly lowered the gun and dropped it to the ground, then pushed herself to her feet. “Dean...”

His gaze raked her, and his heart thudded at the sight of her clothes covered in blood. “Are you hurt?”

She closed her eyes and swayed. “No, it’s Emmett’s blood.”

She took one step forward, but her wobbly legs wouldn’t support her. As she began to sink toward the ground, Dean leaped forward and caught her. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her shaking body close.

For a moment he held her and said a silent prayer of thanks that she’d been spared. His arms around her tightened as he breathed in the scent of the perfume she always wore. He’d thought of that smell on many lonesome nights, but he hadn’t thought he would ever encounter it again.

Before he realized what he was doing, he pressed his mouth against the top of her head in a kiss. She stilled for a moment and then leaned back and stared up at him. The fear he’d seen moments ago had been replaced by something else. Regret maybe, but he couldn’t be sure. Before he could say anything, she pulled free of his embrace and lowered her gaze.

Tears rolled down her cheeks. He wanted to wipe them away, but the look on her face told him that would be an unwelcome gesture. She drew a ragged breath. “I—I thought you would never get here. I d-didn’t know if I could hold him off much longer. He shot Emmett, and there was so much blood.”

Dean dropped to his knees next to his friend and examined the wound in his shoulder. “He’s lost a lot of blood, but you did a great job taking care of both of you.”

Gwen leaned against the tree where she’d been huddled with Emmett and closed her eyes. Dean wished he could pull her into his arms again and reassure her everything was going to be okay, but he wasn’t sure of that. His foreman was badly wounded, and they needed to get him to a doctor as soon as possible.

“Dean!” a voice called from the direction of the creek, and she jerked erect, then whirled to stare toward the source of the sound.

“He’s back!” she shrieked.

Dean jumped to his feet, and Gwen threw herself into his arms again. He hugged her close and shook his head. “No, that’s Luke, one of my ranch hands. You’re safe. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

Her arms encircled his neck, and she pressed her shaking body closer. “Thank you, Dean,” she whispered. “You always tried to take care of me, ever since you saved my life years ago.”

Evidently her long-ago experience with the serial killer still affected her. Now, after being attacked by another murderer, she had even more bad memories to try to live with.

Glancing over her shoulder, Dean saw Luke and Jed guide their horses out of the water and onto the bank. He relaxed his hold on Gwen, who pulled away. “We’re over here,” he called out.

The cowboys climbed down from their horses and hurried toward them. “Sorry, boss,” Luke said. “We lost his trail through the forest. This guy had to know this area well to get away from us as quick as he did.”

Dean nodded. “That’s what I’m afraid of. If he knows these trails, then he’s been here long enough or often enough to feel at home. That’s gonna make it harder to catch him. In the meantime, we’ve got to get Emmett to a doctor. Let’s get him up on one of the horses so he can ride back to the ranch with one of you. I’ll take Gwen with me.”

Within minutes Luke and Jed had Emmett loaded on Luke’s horse, and Luke climbed up behind. Dean swung into Midnight’s saddle, reached down for Gwen and swung her up behind him. He glanced at her over his shoulder.

“Are you sure this isn’t too much weight for your horse?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Midnight can handle it. Just don’t hold on to me. If you started to fall off, you’d pull me with you. Then we’d both be in trouble. Hold the cantle and you’ll be fine.”

She nodded and gripped the back of the saddle. “I understand.”

He nudged Midnight, who headed down the trail toward home. Luke and Jed followed on their horses close behind. If their mission to get Emmett to medical care hadn’t been so important, Dean would have enjoyed the time with Gwen behind him on the horse he’d trained while his grandfather and Emmett had watched.

He swallowed the lump that formed in his throat at the memory of how his grandfather had leaned on the corral fence and watched as Dean worked with the young horse he’d brought home from a sale. They would never spend time like that together again. But in a few days’ time, he probably wouldn’t have the opportunity to be with Gwen again, either. He didn’t even want to think how lonely the Little Pigeon Ranch would be when she went back to New York.

As they rode down the mountain, he looked over his shoulder from time to time to see how Luke was making it with Emmett, who had roused a bit before they started home. He appeared to be staying upright in the saddle, with Luke controlling his horse from behind. It was a good thing Dean had brought one of the best riders on the ranch along with him. Some of the others weren’t experienced enough to deal with holding a wounded man in front of them on a moving horse.

Finally, the barn came in sight, and Dean breathed a sigh of relief. His truck still sat beside the corral, where he’d left it earlier. He pulled Midnight to a stop next to it and dismounted, then reached up and hauled Gwen to the ground.

A startled cry rang out, and he looked toward the barn to see Billy Champion standing just outside the door, a bucket in one hand and Princess’s bridle in the other. “What happened?” he called out.

“Emmett’s been shot. We have to get him to the hospital,” Dean yelled back.

The bucket Billy held clattered to the ground, and he dropped Princess’s reins as he ran toward them. “Who shot Emmett?”

“We don’t know.”

Luke and Dean dismounted and reached up to help the foreman down. Billy ran over and helped the others ease Emmett to the ground, a look of disbelief on his face as he saw the amount of blood on Emmett’s shirt. “He needs to get to the hospital right away.”

“Yeah,” Dean said. “Let’s get him in my truck.” He glanced at Billy. “By the way, what are you doing here?”

“I thought you might be a little short-handed today and came over to help out. Princess came running up to the barn like she was being chased by a bear, and Cocoa came back a few minutes later. I told one of the hands we needed to go see what happened, but he said you had already left.”

“Thanks for helping, Billy. It’s been a wild morning around here.” Dean turned to Gwen. “You go on to the house and get cleaned up. I’ll call you when I know anything.”

She shook her head. “No. I’m going with you. I have to make sure he’s all right.”

Dean’s gaze raked her. “You’re covered in blood, Gwen. Go change clothes.” His voice sounded angrier than he’d intended.

Before he could apologize, her forehead wrinkled and she stepped closer to him. Her hands fisted at her sides, and she spoke through gritted teeth. “I imagine people at the hospital are used to seeing blood. I’m going with you.” With that, she opened the extended cab door and motioned to the three men supporting Emmett. “Put him in here, and I’ll climb in beside him.”

They looked at Dean as if not sure what to do. “I’d forgotten how stubborn you can be,” he muttered before he sighed and nodded. As the two ranch hands and Billy lifted Emmett into the vehicle, Dean hurried to the driver’s side and jumped in. Gwen climbed into the back cab and crouched close to the wounded man. As soon as the door had shut, Dean turned the key in the ignition and roared down the driveway to the main road.

When he’d turned onto the highway leading into Gatlinburg, he looked over his shoulder. “Call 911 and tell them we’re on our way to the hospital with a wounded man. Ask them to have Ben or a deputy meet us there.”

“I dropped my cell phone in the stream.”

He reached in his pocket, pulled his phone out and tossed it over the seat. “Then use mine.”

Gwen caught it and punched in the number. Dean listened as she relayed the message he’d given her. When she finished speaking, she was silent for a moment and then spoke into the phone again. “Thank you. We’ve just left the ranch, but we should be there shortly.”

Dean glanced in the rearview mirror and could see Gwen disconnecting the call. “What did the operator say?”

“That she’d alert the hospital and have Sheriff Whitman there waiting for us.”

A low moan drifted from the backseat, and Dean glanced over his shoulder quickly, then looked back at the road. “How’s he doing?”

Gwen’s sob answered his question. “I don’t know. He’s drifting in and out of consciousness. And the bleeding has increased. Please hurry, Dean.”

Dean grimaced, pressed his foot on the accelerator and honked as he swerved around a car that had to be doing no more than twenty-five miles an hour. Surely the driver would realize from the flashing hazard lights and the speed he was driving that they had an emergency. Emmett had lost a lot of blood, and every minute counted right now. Dean had to get to the hospital before his friend bled to death.

He couldn’t lose Emmett, too.

* * *

When Dean screeched to a stop at the emergency room entrance, Gwen was relieved to see a team of nurses waiting for them beside a gurney. She jumped out of the truck the moment it came to a halt and moved out of the way so a husky male nurse could reach inside. He lifted Emmett as if he weighed nothing and pulled him out of the backseat. With the other nurses helping, Emmett was on a gurney and being wheeled through the sliding doors at the ambulance bay before Dean had time to get out of the truck.

Dean stopped at the back and stared after them for a moment before he turned to Gwen, who was waiting for him. She started to hold out her hand, but when she glanced down, she thought better of it. Emmett’s blood covered her.

“Let’s go inside, Dean,” she said. “I need to wash up.”

He nodded, and together they walked through the entrance. She stopped just inside and looked around the waiting room. It was about half filled, with several people waiting for help. Pain flickered across the faces of some, while others sat slumped in chairs, their bored gazes fixed on the television that blared out the latest episode of a reality show.

Gwen had never liked hospitals. Not the antiseptic smell, the quiet halls with closed doors, the occasional wail of pain that could be heard or the figures in scrubs who bustled about, dispensing care to those in need. Perhaps her aversion stemmed from her memories of the night her father had died in a car crash. Even so, she needed to put that out of her mind and concentrate on matters at hand.

Her gaze dropped to her hands again, and her stomach churned. Glancing around, she spotted the sign for a restroom. “I need to get cleaned up,” she repeated and headed toward it.

She pushed through the door, hurried to the sink and turned on the hot water. A container of liquid soap hung on the wall, and she lathered her hands and began to scrub. A red stream trickled from her hands as she rinsed, lathered again and scrubbed some more. She had no idea how long it took to wash away the evidence of what had happened at Rattlesnake Creek, but she finally decided she had done all she could at this point.

She pulled a paper towel from the dispenser, dried her wet skin and dropped the used towel in the trash can. Holding her hands up, she examined them for any trace of blood. When she didn’t see any, she closed her eyes and felt the tears begin to trickle down her face. She might have washed the blood away, but the memory was another matter.