Page 77 of Where They Belong

“They’ve moved off,” he said with urgency in his voice. “There’s just the one signature now. Still strong.”

The sense of time running out increased as they rode on, and knowing Mason was alone now, Colt and their small search party began calling out for him. Every time Levi stopped to check his compass and gauge their direction, Colt’s guts twisted, terrified they would be too late. Every tick of the clock felt like the hand of doom coming down on top of them.

His already strained and shredded voice grew rawer with every shout of Mason’s name, but he wouldn’t stop until he had no voice left.

“I think I see him,” Levi called out ahead of them.

Colt’s heart launched into his chest. He jumped off Zephyr before pulling him to a full stop and then broke out into a full-on run.

The river gurgled near the verdant banks that guided its course, running high with spring runoff. Birds chirped and tweeted, and the bright sunshine sparkled like diamonds on wet skin. Mason lay on his back beside Colt and stared up at the clear blue sky.

“What are you smiling about?” Colt’s breath ghosted over his wet shoulder, and he shivered with delight.

He turned his head to face Colt and saw the world in his bright blue eyes. His smile widened.

“I love you,” Mason whispered.

He leaned over and kissed Colt’s shoulder.

“Mason,” Colt whispered.

Mason blinked, and Colt was standing at the edge of the bank. Mason frowned. How had he moved away so fast?

“Colt?”

“Mason,” Colt said again, but his voice sounded different. Not quite like his own, but still familiar somehow. Mason sat up, but Colt was gone. Terror punched into him like a hoof to the chest. He called out and started running. He had to find Colt before it was too late, even though he had no idea what he would be too late for.

Colt said his name again, louder, and there was a thread of panic in his voice. That wasn’t right. Why would Colt be panicked when they’d been lying together in the spring grass, making love?

“Mason!”

He jerked awake. The dream shattered. Pain roared back with a vengeance that knocked his head back against the hard bark of the tree. He cried out, the sound impeded by the duct tape over his mouth. It took a couple of seconds for his disorientation and blurry vision to clear, and then reality stood front and center in his mind. Thanks to Gus and Gentry, he was bound to a tree in the middle of nowhere, with a trail of raw meat leading to him like a dinner bell.

He must have passed out from the blow to his head and whatever they’d doped him up with still in his system. How much time had passed? He carefully angled his head to look up through the canopy of trees. The sun was nearing its zenith, which meant he’d been missing for a good five hours at least. He squeezed his eyes shut.

Gus and Gentry Bristow.

The bastards had been behind the threats all along. All because Gus felt so entitled to Mason’s land that when Mason wouldn’t willingly sell it, Gus conspired to take it from him.

Movement caught his eye. A little red fox had found Gus’s bait trail. Mason wasn’t too worried about a fox. They were usually shy creatures, though curious. If it wanted to, it could still kill him.

He shifted his torso and kicked his feet to try and scare the little guy off, but all he did was succeed in hurting himself more. His hands were so numb his arms felt like they ended at his elbows, and his shoulders screamed from being locked in their strained position for so long. The fox tilted his head and then carried on chewing on a piece of meat while keeping a watchful eye on Mason.

His name echoed through the trees, like the rustling of leaves and creaking of branches in a gusty breeze. He tilted his head and frowned. Was he imagining it, or was it real? The fox didn’t seem too concerned, which meant it was all in his head.

Mason sighed and closed his eyes. The inside of his mouth felt like sand and his tongue too thick.Please, Colt. Where are you?

How was he going to get out of this? He slowed his breathing and relaxed his muscles. Maybe if he was pliant enough, he could work the rope loose enough to free himself. He shook his head when he heard his name called again. But did it sound closer? Was he still imagining Colt had found him?

“Mason!”

Okay, that time, it sounded real. And close. He snapped his eyes open, his breathing accelerated. That was not his imagination. That was Colt. Elation expanded in his chest.

The fox had run off too, confirming he wasn’t imagining things anymore.

The snapping of tree branches and crunch of hooves on the ground reached his ears. Horses. Several of them, by the sound of it, and he heard his name called out again. They’d found him. Wetness leaked out of the corners of his eyes and tracked a path down his cheeks.

He struggled and shouted, or tried to, anyway. The duct tape over his mouth prevented him from making more than grunts and groans that didn’t carry very far, but he still screamed himself hoarse.

---