Page 58 of Thunder Pass

“No. It’d be hard to get away with that in Firelight Ridge. I think they’re watching Martha’s place.”

She gave a soft gasp and shrank down in the passenger seat. “Why?”

“I don’t know. But let’s get out of here.” He rolled the truck down the drive, that sensation at the back of his neck getting stronger as he went. Then—a flash of something in the woods off to the right.

“Gun,” he yelled to Ruth, pushing her head to her lap at the same time. “Get down!”

He jammed his foot on the accelerator as a burst of dust rose from the gravel about two feet ahead of them. Crouching low over the steering wheel, he zig-zagged across the road, trying to become as unpredictable a target as possible. A bullet hit the road behind them, drawing a shriek from Ruth.

“Just stay down,” he yelled as he floored the accelerator. There was no sign of a vehicle, so whoever was shooting was hidden somewhere in the trees, and if he just kept driving, they’d be out of range soon. Time seemed to warp as he steered the truck from his crunched position behind the wheel, barely able to see the road ahead.

There was a bend in the road, only about fifty yards away. If he could make it there, they’d be home free, out of range, out of sight.

Another crack of a gunshot, and a yell—then silence.

He dared to sit up enough to look in the rearview mirror, just in time to see someone tumbling through the lower branches of a spruce tree. Was someone else here, shooting at the person who’d been shooting at them? Should he stop the truck, go back, render aid, offer thanks, find out what the hell was going on?

No. He kept going. Ruth’s life was in his hands right now, and he wasn’t going to take any chances.

He took the bend on two wheels, metal screeching, and zoomed down the gravel road—which was never meant for speeds like this. As he drove, he kept his ears peeled for more gunshots, but heard nothing more. Another two miles down the road, and he finally felt it was safe to slow down.

“Are you all right?” he asked Ruth as he touched her back to let her know she could sit up. “I think we’re clear.”

“All right?” With her red hair a wild tangle and her face flushed, she scrambled back upright. “No, I’m not all right, I’m furious. Who was that? Did Luke send someone to try to kill us?” She was practically vibrating with rage. Gunnar had never seen her like this. Gone was gentle Ruth; in her place was a righteous avenging angel.

“Well, we did take his hen,” Gunnar said mildly.

A surprised snort burst from her lips, but then she pressed them together, refusing to be amused. “You’re not going to make me laugh about this. Gunnar, someone was shooting at us.”

“I know. And I’m not trying to laugh at it. I’m pretty shaken up myself.” He lifted a hand from the steering wheel and showed her how much it was trembling. “I’ve never been shot at before, in case you wondered.”

“You really kept your cool.” She put a hand to her heart. “My heart’s still pumping.”

Yes, he had—and he knew who to thank for that. “My father used to run drills with me during sparring sessions. Once he actually set a fire and when smoke came into the room, he pretended to cough so hard that he couldn’t help. I had to handle it on my own. He trained me to think on my feet.”

He scowled at the road up ahead, recreating the sequence of events he’d just witnessed in confusing high-speed. “I think they were just trying to scare us off. They could have hit us, but didn’t. And then someone else shot at the first person. I wonder?—”

“You think it’s your father?”

He glanced over at her, happy to see she was recovering enough to speculate. “Exactly. Or maybe Jim Kelly. He could have been following whoever shot at us.”

“In which case, now they know he’s here. What’s that phrase…he’s blown his cover?”

“Maybe.” Gunnar frowned darkly. “Or maybe they’ll think we shot that guy.”

“I’m not sure that’s any better.” Ruth hugged her arms around herself and shivered.

“Right. First we take their chicken, then?—”

“Stop it!” she said, laughing. “Poor Maisie, she doesn’t deserve to be a punchline. She’s just minding her business, doing her best while—” She broke off with a sudden sob.

He reached over and grabbed her hand. “While everything goes to shit around her?”

Ruth nodded mutely.

“Listen to me, Ruth. My father once said something to me that keeps coming back to me. He said, the bad times are when you really find out what’s important to you. I never really knew what he meant, until now. We’re in this together, okay? You’re…important to me.”

That sounded like just a fraction of what he felt, of what he wanted to say.

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