Page 7

SIX

STANTON FOREST

Terror shuddered through Serena Lee as two men wearing prison garb dragged her grandfather’s blood-soaked body past the chicken coop. As the heels of his boots dug a double trail into the soft ground on the way to the pigpen, she wanted to scream and run to him, but from his fixed blank eyes, he was long past help. When he’d sent her outside to avoid the visitors, the gunshot had startled her and sent chickens scattering in all directions, with some flying into the forest. Familiar with the sound of a shotgun, the single crack of a pistol put her on alert but if it hadn’t been for the voices, she’d have walked right into the prisoners ransacking her grandpa’s house.

Shocked, the realization of the danger hit her like a hammer. She would be next. Her only hope of escaping to safety would be to remain as quiet as possible. Her mom had told her about bad men and what they could do. The images of Grandpa flashed through her mind. He’d want her to be brave. She tried hard not to cry and pressed her fist into her mouth. The two men would be coming back and they’d hear her sobs for sure. Knees trembling, Serena backed into the coop. Heart thundering in her chest, she hunched down to make herself as small as possible and then duckwalked into the farthest corner of the coop. The men walked past again, laughing and joking as if killing someone were as normal as eating apple pie. As the footsteps disappeared, she stood slowly. If they found her, they’d kill her as well. She must go for help. It would be dark soon and riding was her only chance to survive these lunatics.

Wearing only jeans and a light top, she wouldn’t survive a night in the mountains even in late spring. The drop in temperature was substantial overnight. In desperation, she went to the door of the chicken coop, and after making sure no one was around, she dashed across the open ground and into the barn. Heart pounding, she leaned against the door panting. Her legs trembled but Grandpa’s words drifted into her mind. If bad men come here, run and get help.

Panic gripped her but she nodded. I can do this. Inside, a horse her grandpa used to drag fallen logs back to the cabin stood dozing in its stall. The horse wasn’t usually ridden as Grandpa had a truck to get into town. She stared at the truck and then shook her head. At ten years old, she couldn’t risk driving it, but she could ride and she’d made friends with the horse. Fighting back tears, she took the tack hanging on a peg beside the stall and, speaking quietly to the horse, she pushed the halter over its ears. “Good boy, Thunderbolt.”

Listening for voices close by, she grabbed her grandfather’s thick jacket from the peg and took two feedbags and filled them with bottled water from the supplies in the barn, a few cans of food, a can opener, a Zippo, and a horse blanket. She tied the tops with a length of twine and attached them to a leading rein. She swallowed hard. Getting to the next cabin would be a problem if Thunderbolt decided he didn’t want her to ride him. As a retired rodeo horse, he’d had enough of people riding him and was currently enjoying his retirement. She considered the direction the prisoners had come from and where they might be heading. It would be likely they’d keep heading in the same direction away from the highway.

Holding back sobs of distress, Serena tossed the bags across the horse’s neck and led him to a bale of hay. Using it to help her reach his broad back, she climbed on Thunderbolt. She ran her hand down his silky neck and spoke to him softly. She often brought him apples and carrots as a treat, and maybe he’d remember her kindness. “Okay, let’s go.” She squeezed her legs rather than kicking him in the ribs and to her surprise he moved out of the stall and headed for the forest.

As she rode away as slowly as possible, agonizing screams came from the cabin. She hadn’t seen a woman, but there could be no doubt the men had captured one. Men’s voices raised and laughter echoed through the night. She urged Thunderbolt on, trying to block out the misery behind her, but images of her grandpa’s staring eyes haunted her thoughts. Teeth chattering with shock, the knowledge her grandpa’s body would be devoured by the pigs made her sick to her stomach. Trying hard to find her way, she took a trail Grandpa went along to drive to the highway. It followed the edge of the mountain, and dark shadows cut across sunlit paths, playing tricks with her eyes. Without warning, Thunderbolt reared, his ears flat against his head. The horse danced around on his back legs, and then shot off at tremendous speed. She clung to his mane for dear life as the horse dashed through the forest with little regard to who was on his back. Behind her, the sound of a bear roaring came over the noise of thundering hooves. They galloped, skimming around the trees, and shot past the next cabin. Hanging around Thunderbolt’s neck, all Serena could do was hold on tight. The horse kept bolting and she could do nothing to stop him. Eventually he slowed and stood, his chest heaving. As the horse scanned the forest, his head high and ears twitching, a tremble went through him. Serena rubbed his neck and spoke in soothing tones. His ears twisted as if listening to her and then he moved off, weaving through trees, until they reached the banks of the river. At a sandy riverbank, Thunderbolt waded into the water and drank his fill.

Unfamiliar with this part of the forest, Serena tried to get her bearings. Her grandpa had told her stories about the early settlers in the area. Most of the people built cabins close to the river. A long time ago, when they erected them, they didn’t consider the problems of drinking water from a flowing creek. Nowadays people filtered water or sterilized it by using a simple pill. So to find help, she’d need to follow the river. Tears streamed down her cheeks, but the determination to get to a phone and notify the sheriff burned in her. Serena patted Thunderbolt’s neck. He’d allowed her to ride him and saved her life. At no time had he attempted to buck her from his back. The image of her grandpa’s empty staring eyes had stuck in her mind. She’d seen what those men had done to him, and there was no way she’d let them get away with it.