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C rouched beside Shane and partially hidden behind a tree, Libby’s heart raced. What in the world was going on? She glanced around, trying to spot the poacher. It had to be the same person who’d drawn her grandfather into the woods.

“Bryce!” Shane’s voice rose in agitation. Then the tan and black German shepherd bounded toward them. Shane put his arm around the dog’s neck and pulled him close, relief etched on his features. “Good boy.”

“Do you see the poacher?” She kept her voice low. “Can you tell where the shot came from?”

“It’s hard to say for sure.” Shane’s expression turned grim. “But I don’t like this. Whoever took that shot came close to hitting us.”

She didn’t like their tenuous situation either, but her grandfather was still missing, and they needed to find him. They huddled at the base of a tree for several long minutes until she thought she might scream. “We need to keep moving,” she finally said.

“I’m not risking you or my dog.” Shane scowled. “Better that we head back to the cabin and call the police.”

“But Bryce was following my grandfather’s scent!” Libby put a hand on Shane’s arm. “Please, Shane, don’t give up the search. What if Grandpa is hurt and waiting for us to find him?”

Shane’s frown deepened. “I don’t like this,” he repeated, half under his breath. “I can’t figure out if that shot was intended to kill us or was simply fired as a warning.”

“A warning?” She didn’t understand.

“Maybe the poacher is trying to force us to go back to the cabin.” He pinned her with a somber gaze. “It could be his illegal carcass is strung up in a tree nearby, and he doesn’t want us to see what he shot and killed.”

“I don’t care about illegal poaching!” She raised her voice loud enough that she hoped the shooter could hear. “Don’t you understand? I only want to find my grandfather!”

There was nothing but a long silence after her outburst. She felt a little foolish talking to someone she couldn’t see. Yet the gunshot had been very real.

Shane shook his head without saying anything. He also didn’t appear in a hurry to move. She understood his desire to keep them safe, but they couldn’t just sit out here forever.

Inactivity chafed as they remained in place for a full ten minutes before Shane slowly stood. He didn’t look happy but glanced down at Bryce with a resigned expression. “Okay, we’ll keep going for a while longer. But if this guy fires at us again, we’re done.”

“Thanks for agreeing to continue the search.” She wasn’t about to agree to being done. She had no intention of leaving the woods without her grandfather. “Grandpa needs us.”

He sighed, then looked down at Bryce. “Are you ready to search? Search for Marvin!”

Bryce’s tail wagged as the dog turned and headed back to the trail. Shane gestured for her to go next. She tipped her head, sending him a questioning look.

“I’ll cover you from behind,” he said gruffly. “Go. We need to keep up with Bryce.”

It seemed useless to argue, so she hurried after the large dog. Watching Bryce follow her grandfather’s scent trail was amazing and helped ease some of her wariness toward large breed dogs. Not that she intended to get too close to Bryce’s sharp, ferocious teeth.

She quickened her pace, trying not to let the dog out of sight. She found herself hunching her shoulders, expecting more gunfire, but she only heard the rustling sounds they made moving through the woods. Maybe the poacher had moved on with his illegal game.

She would rather believe the guy had given up and left the area than consider the possibility that he was following them.

Libby concentrated on pushing ahead. She noticed that the path Bryce took had less foliage to push out of the way. And every so often, she saw a broken tree branch, giving credence to the theory that her grandpa had come this way.

They had to find him! A sense of urgency spurred her forward. When Bryce stopped at a boulder sitting off to the side of what appeared to be a worn path, sniffing the ground intently, she turned to look at Shane. “Shouldn’t he bark if he’s alerting?”

“Yes.” The moment Shane answered, Bryce abruptly sat and let out a sharp bark.

Libby hurried forward. The boulder was about as high as her knee. Her grandpa was roughly six feet tall and carried a few extra pounds on his frame. It wasn’t a stretch to imagine him sitting down on the boulder to rest.

She dropped down onto the rock, mirroring her grandfather’s movements. Had he sat there for a few minutes, listening for the poacher? And if so, why had he kept pushing forward? Why not give up the search and head back to the cabin? Especially since he knew she’d be arriving with his groceries?

It didn’t make sense, but Bryce had alerted there, so she believed her grandfather had stopped there at least for a few minutes.

“Good boy,” Shane praised. He tossed the yellow rubber ducky high in the air. Bryce jumped up to catch it, then ran around with the prize in his mouth.

The dog’s antics made her smile. “I thought you didn’t want to reward him every time he alerted?”

“Normally, I wouldn’t, but the crack of gunfire interrupted the game. Bryce is a good tracker. I need him to stay engaged in the search.” Shane frowned. “I still don’t like that someone took a shot at us. I hope we find your grandfather soon.”

“Me too.” She wanted nothing more than to get her grandfather back home where he belonged. “Bryce will find him.”

“He will.” Shane gave a curt nod, then glanced at his dog. Shane didn’t smile often, but his expression softened when he addressed his partner. “Bryce, come!”

The large dog galloped over to Shane’s side, the yellow ducky looking ridiculous in his clenched teeth.

“Hand.” Bryce held out his hand expectantly. Bryce dropped the toy into Shane’s outstretched palm. “Good boy.” He bent and ruffled the dog’s fur, then he shrugged out of his pack and poured some water into the collapsible bowl. Seeing the water made her realize how thirsty she was.

She’d foolishly followed Shane and Bryce without bringing anything along. She felt like an idiot, but Shane must have read her mind because he pulled a second water bottle from his pack. “Help yourself.”

“Thank you.” She drank only a third of the bottle, not sure how many more he had stashed away.

He tucked the open bottle back in his pack, then finished the bottle he’d used for Bryce. Bryce lapped at the water, then lifted his dark gaze to Shane’s, clearly waiting for the next command.

“This is Marvin.” Shane offered the bag containing the socks and shirt. Bryce sniffed at the items, then looked up at Shane again. “Search! Search Marvin!”

Bryce eagerly wheeled around and lowered his head to the earth, sniffing intently. Then he continued along a path that only the dog could sense.

Bryce led them halfway up a hill, then turned to head east. She huffed and puffed trying to keep up.

The dog had way more energy than she did.

“Good boy,” Shane encouraged. “Search for Marvin!”

The dog gamely pushed forward, sniffing along the ground for her grandfather’s unique scent.

“I hope we find him soon.” Libby gnawed on her lower lip. She was having trouble maintaining her usual sunny disposition. The longer it took to find her grandfather, the more she was forced to accept the possibility that he’d fallen to the ground and injured himself. That he was right now lying in the brush, unable to get up.

Waiting desperately for them to find him.

Hurt but not dead. She refused to believe she may have lost him for good. Her grandfather was the only family she had left. She shared the last name of Tolliver with a guy named Andrew, but there was no relation between them as far as she knew. Her father had walked away when she was a toddler. She had no memory of the man. Her mother had died of a highly aggressive form of leukemia during her sophomore year of college. Libby had left college in Cheyenne, returning home to help care for her mother. But within a few weeks, her mother was gone.

The only thing she had left of her mother was the house. Libby had begged her grandfather to move in with her so they could be together. Grandpa had insisted he preferred living at the cabin. Since she’d gotten the job at the billing department at the hospital, Libby had reluctantly agreed to stay in Cody, using her weekends off to visit and help her grandfather. The arrangement had worked out well.

Until now.

Her grandfather was missing, and her heart ached with the thought of losing him.

Lifting her gaze to the blue sky overhead, she silently prayed. Please, Lord Jesus, keep my grandpa safe in Your care!

* * *

Shane could sense Libby’s despair as they continued trailing Bryce’s path through the woods. It bothered him to see her this upset.

Not that he could blame her. Knowing how he’d feel if one of his siblings was missing, Shane had gone against his better judgment, agreeing to continue the search. But he remained on high alert in case the shooter was tracking them too.

Poacher? Or someone else? He didn’t know and hated feeling vulnerable.

Shane had a carry concealed permit, his side arm tucked in the backpack. At first, he wanted to carry it in hand, but after several minutes of hearing nothing alarming, he’d decided against it. He wasn’t wearing his belt holster. At this point, it was more important to keep his hands free.

He kept a wary eye on the time and his compass. He trusted Bryce’s nose was taking them to Marvin Tolliver, but Shane needed to make sure they could find their way back to the cabin. Especially if they had to carry Marvin the entire distance.

Maybe he should have called one of his siblings in for assistance. He was fourth of nine siblings, each working with dogs of various specialties. His sister Maya was the oldest, working with a husky named Zion. She was married to DEA Agent Doug Bridges, and they were expecting their first child in mid-December. His brother Chase was married to Wynona, and they had a five-year-old son, Eli. Chase’s K9, Rocky, was a Norwegian Elkhound who was a good tracker but had a mind of his own. His sister Jessica was third in line and recently married pilot Logan Fletcher. Jessica’s K9, Teddy, was a narcotics dog but could track people too. Alexis was a year younger than he was, and her K9, Denali, had been specifically trained to find dead bodies. Alexis and Denali had been to various disaster sites for recovery missions. Joel and Justin were twins, and their lab K9s were good search dogs too. Trevor was the second youngest, and his K9 was a good tracker as well. And the youngest of the Sullivan clan was Kendra, who worked with Smoky, her large Alaskan malamute.

Any of his siblings would drop what they were doing to assist in the search for Marvin Tolliver. Shane decided that if they didn’t find Marvin alive by lunchtime, he’d call Alexis or Joel for backup. He’d reach out to Alexis first because the longer Marvin remained out in the wilderness, the worse his prognosis.

One thing for sure, he wouldn’t tell Libby that Alexis’s dog, Denali, was an expert at finding dead bodies.

After ten more minutes of hiking, he called for a break. Bryce was a strong, athletic K9, but Shane knew rest breaks were important. “Come, Bryce.”

The dog lifted his head and turned to stare at him as if to ask why they were quitting. Then Bryce ran over to his side.

“Good boy,” he praised. He shrugged out of his backpack, dropped to the ground, and patted the earth beside him. “Come. Lie down, Bryce.”

His K9 obediently stretched out beside him, lowering his head between his paws. Within seconds, Bryce closed his eyes and appeared to fall asleep.

“I wish I could take naps like Bryce.” Libby sighed and sat beside him. She tunneled her fingers through her red hair in a rare gesture of frustration. “I don’t know what to think, Shane. I thought for sure we’d have found my grandfather by now. It feels like we’ve been out here forever!”

“I know.” He felt bad for her. The only good news was that Bryce hadn’t lost the scent trail. “We’ve been gone just over ninety minutes. I’m thinking your grandfather must have left the cabin pretty early to have gotten this far.”

“Yeah, that possibility has occurred to me too.” She lifted her face to the sun, sighed, then glanced at him. “I know we’re going to find him. I just keep praying to God that we’ll find him soon.”

He nodded in agreement, although his faith had taken a beating over the years since losing his girlfriend Rebecca two years after they’d graduated from high school, then his parents a few years later. The two blows had hit him hard. His siblings prayed often, and he participated with those prayers, even though his heart wasn’t always engaged.

Sure, he wanted to believe his parents and Rebecca were in heaven with God and Jesus, but he couldn’t help feeling angry about how they’d been taken from him. Rebecca had only been twenty years old when she’d died in that terrible car crash. Then just when he was coming to grips with that loss, his parents had died in a small plane crash. He still struggled to understand why they’d all been taken far too soon.

Maya would gently remind him that God had a plan for him.

But so far, Shane’s only plan was to bury himself in their search and rescue missions.

“I forgot to ask what brand of dog food you need,” Libby said, breaking into his dour thoughts. “I’ve heard that the Sullivan family only accepts dog food as payment for their services.”

He waved a hand. “That’s true, but we can worry about that later.”

She tipped her head to the side. “I have to admit to being curious as to why the only payment your family will take is dog food. It must cost a bundle to keep your dogs in shape to do these missions. And how else are you and the others earning any money?”

He swallowed a sigh, unwilling to get into the inheritance they’d uncovered after their parents’ death. “We’re fine. Dog food is gratefully accepted because feeding nine dogs—well, ten now that Emily and Owen are at the ranch training their new puppy—takes a ton of food. And I literally mean a ton.”

“But what about your salary? How do you pay your living expenses?”

He shrugged. “The ranch is doing okay. We get by.” He glanced at his watch, anxious to change the subject. If the locals knew just how much money the Sullivans had in the trust their parents had set up for them, the ranch would be crawling with people trying to get a piece of the pie. They’d all agreed early on not to say anything about the multimillion-dollar trust. The only other people who knew the truth were those who’d recently married into the family. “Five more minutes and we’ll get back on the trail.”

Libby looked as if she wanted to press more, but just then the distant rumble of an engine reached their ears. Libby jumped to her feet. “Did you hear that?”

“Yes.” He rose, too, and his movement was enough to awaken Bryce. His K9 rose, stretched, then lifted his nose to the air. “I can’t decide if that was a plane engine or a car?”

“A car? There aren’t any roads out here that I’m aware of.” Libby slowly turned in a full circle as the low engine noise faded. “I don’t see anything nearby. Maybe the vehicle is on a road a mile or so from here.”

“It’s possible.” He tried to envision a map of the area in his mind. This was the first time they’d heard anything resembling an engine, but it occurred to Shane that their poacher may have had a four-wheeler. Some hunters used all-terrain vehicles to help transport elk and deer carcasses through the woods. “If that’s our poacher heading out of the area, we’ll have one less thing to worry about.”

Libby’s expression brightened. “That’s true. I’m sure that’s who’s driving the vehicle. It’s nice to know he’s gone. While following Bryce, I kept expecting the gunman to pop out at us like the boogeyman.”

The corner of his mouth quirked in a half smile. “Boogeyman?”

“Yes.” She gave an emphatic nod. “Bad guys are always the boogeymen.”

Shaking his head, he pulled the collapsible bowl from his pack, filled it with water, and offered it to Bryce. Sensing Libby watching him, he offered some to her. When she shook her head, he replaced it in his pack. Maybe she understood he was trying to conserve their water supply because her grandfather would likely be dehydrated by the time they found him.

If Marvin was awake enough to drink. Based on the silence that seemed to be closing in on them, Shane secretly doubted that would be the case.

Shane told himself to worry about how they’d get Marvin Tolliver out of the woods once they found him. He’d had to haul injured hikers and tourists out of the woods before, so this wouldn’t be the first time. Maya encouraged them to carry a tarp in their packs that could be used as a sling just for that reason. With the help of his one-hundred-pound German shepherd, Shane knew they could drag him back to the cabin if needed.

He turned his attention to Bryce. “Are you ready to search? Are you?” He injected enthusiasm into his tone. “It’s time to search! Search for Marvin!”

Bryce’s tail wagged as he turned and went back to work. Shane had to give Maya credit for her dog-training skills. Between Maya and Ralph Netter, a renowned K9 trainer who’d spent several weeks on the ranch with them early on, each of their dogs were excited to play the search game. Not only did their dogs love it, but they were also exceptionally good at it.

And it was nice to know that he and his siblings had saved hundreds of lives over the past five and a half years.

Thoughts of his parents had him glancing up at the bright-blue sky. He hoped that if they were in heaven, that they were proud of the work he and his siblings had done.

The way they’d put the ranch trust to good use.

Libby cried out shortly before she crashed to the ground. He rushed forward. “Are you okay?”

“Twisted my ankle.” She sighed. “I’ll be fine.”

“Bryce, come!” He didn’t want his dog to get too far ahead. When his K9 turned and rushed back to join them, he knelt at Libby’s side. “Let me see.”

“It’s not bad.” She removed her hands so he could examine the injured joint.

Her ankle looked slightly swollen. While not a serious injury, putting additional pressure on the joint could cause the swelling to get worse. “It’s going to hurt if we keep going.”

“I’m not giving up.” Her brown eyes flared with determination. “It’s fine. I promise I won’t slow you down.”

“Yes, you will.” He sighed and shrugged out of his pack. “But we can wrap it for now. I’m warning you, though, I can’t carry you and your grandfather out of here.”

“You won’t have to.” She looked relieved when he pulled out a small first aid kit. “Wow, you’ve thought of everything.”

He arched a brow as he pulled off her shoe and sock. Then he began to lightly wrap her left ankle. “This isn’t my first search and rescue mission.”

“How did you and your siblings decide to do search and rescue anyway?” she asked as he slipped her sock back on to keep the wrap in place.

“We wanted to help find our parents.” He held up her shoe. “Tie this loosely. The goal is to add support without cutting off the circulation to your foot.”

“Got it.” She put the shoe on and tied the laces. He rose to his feet, shouldered the pack, then held out his hand. He helped her stand, watching her critically as she took a few tentative steps.

“Are you sure you don’t want to turn back?” He frowned, knowing he should insist on giving up the search. Libby might be okay for the next few minutes, but they had a long hike back to the cabin.

“I’m sure. My ankle feels fine.” She smiled. “Let’s keep going.”

Pushing aside the apprehension, he turned his attention toward Bryce. “Are you ready to search, boy? Are you? Search! Search for Marvin!”

Bryce eagerly went back to work, sniffing the clearing for a long moment before moving farther east. Shane wondered if they were still on Marvin Tolliver’s property, then decided it didn’t matter. As long as Bryce had the scent, they’d keep following.

Until Libby collapsed from pain and exhaustion. Then he’d have another problem to worry about.

Jess teased him about his tendency to express doom and gloom, but it was hard to remain positive at times like this. The only thing worse than Libby hurting herself would be if his dog got injured.

They walked in silence for the next few minutes. Bryce was still following his scent trail, his tail waving slightly from side to side as he trotted through the woods. Marvin must have sweated a lot while he was moving through the woods because Bryce had not once faltered or double-backed, indicating he’d lost the scent. Easy to imagine Bryce sniffing invisible drops of Marvin’s sweat that had landed on the ground.

Searches in the summer months were generally easier than in the winter. The family tended to be busier in the summer with the influx of tourists. The fall, too, with hunters coming in from out of state to hunt elk.

It wasn’t often that they were called out to search for locals, like Marvin.

Bryce leaped over a fallen log, momentarily disappearing from view. Shane quickened his pace, relieved to see Bryce had landed in a clearing on the other side of the timber.

The dog had his nose pressed into the grass, sniffing intently. Shane glanced around curiously, wondering if Marvin had decided to stop here to rest.

How far had the old man gone anyway? It seemed to him that they should have stumbled across Marvin by now.

Bryce sat and let out a sharp bark. Shane approached with caution, scanning the ground. The grass was pressed down in areas, indicating someone could have been sitting there at some point. He didn’t see any more tufts of red thread or any other indication that Marvin had been there.

But then he spotted it. A pair of broken glasses trampled on the ground.

A cold chill snaked down his spine. He glanced over to see Libby making her way toward them. She wasn’t limping, but she wasn’t moving as fast as she had been either. “Does your grandfather wear glasses?”

“Yes. Why?” Now she quickened her pace. He pointed to the broken glasses and heard her sharp intake of breath. “Those are Grandpa’s glasses.”

He nodded and drew the rubber ducky from the front pocket of the backpack and tossed it into the air. “Good boy, Bryce! Good boy!”

“I don’t understand what happened.” Libby held up the broken glasses, glancing around with a frown. “It seems odd that Grandpa would have fallen here in this flat area.”

Shane nodded slowly. “I agree, I don’t think he fell here.” He moved to the other side of the small clearing, then stopped when he saw the tire tracks.

Lowering to a crouch, he estimated the tire width was too small for a car. Not that anyone could have gotten a car in here anyway. But the tire tracks did veer off along a wider trail.

This was where the four-wheeler engine had been. The poacher hadn’t just taken off with his dead carcass.

He must have taken Libby’s grandfather along too.