Page 18 of Colton in the Wild
They waited, watching. Most people who had never encountered one didn’t realize the threat an angry moose could be. If he decided you were a problem he wanted to be rid of, you’d better get gone. And fast.
The big animal looked their way, as if he’d known they were there all along. And he probably had, Spence admitted. This was his neighborhood, not theirs, and any and all intruders were likely noticed, assessed and either ignored or driven out. And unlike their other pursuer, chances were good he wouldn’t miss.
He went back to his meal and Spence looked at Hetty and nodded up the hill. Once more, they started inching their way forward. The moose looked again, but this time seemed satisfied that they were vacating the premises and stayed where he was.
Spence glanced back at Hetty and saw that she was smiling. She’d always loved it when they encountered the various wild creatures that inhabited—heck, owned—this countryside. She would never hunt them, but she loved to see and watch them. And apparently that hadn’t changed.
Then again, Hetty didn’t change much. Even in high school, she’d been like this—smart, quick and endlessly patient when necessary. She always had been that way with him, and he was sure he’d put quite a strain on those qualities, especially the patience, in those days. Heck, he was sure he put a strain on them now, although it was for completely different reasons.
At the time, it had been because he’d been sure, with all the certainty of a teenager, that nobody could help him. Hetty had proved him wrong, then. Now, it was because he had to keep some distance between them, otherwise he was going to say or do something utterly stupid and make it hard for them to work together. And they had to work together, because they were one of the main supports RTA was built on.
And so he kept his distance, upheld the front of flirting with every receptive female who came along, telling himself he had to maintain that space between them. He supposed it was the inner urge to do just the opposite that made him push the envelope, go further than he wanted to, which resulted in a weird feeling of both success and irritation when he succeeded in bringing on that disgusted eye roll of hers.
He shook off the tired old thoughts and speculation. He needed to be paying attention here. Just because there hadn’t been any shots fired since they’d made it into the trees didn’t mean the guy had given up. And wasting energy trying to figure out why wasn’t helping, either. Right now that didn’t matter, the why would come later. Assuming the shooter didn’t find them and finish the job. He winced inwardly at the thought of his dad and uncle trying to figure out what had happened to them.
Once they were out of sight of the moose, he picked up the pace as much as he thought he could without advertising their presence. This plan obviously wasn’t without risk, especially since they were essentially moving in the shooter’s uphill direction, but if they made it to that cave, they’d at least have time to think and figure out what to do.
He paused at a break in the trees, to assess the two possible ways past the small clearing in front of them. He was trying to decide if they’d be better off heading to the left to get past that downed spruce or to the right on what looked to be a longer path that would keep them concealed among upright trees, when he heard…something.
His head snapped around and he held up a hand to stop Hetty. She froze where she was, about five feet behind him. He searched the direction of the sound—a faint snap, as if a branch had broken—had come from, but saw nothing; no movement, no moose, no human. He heard a faint sort of chattering—an animal—and wondered if it was the stoat and his clan. It sounded kind of weasel-like.
The area had fallen back into silence and still he waited. Only when several minutes had gone by did he start to walk again. Hetty never protested, only moving when he finally lowered his hand.
At last, they reached the huge outcropping of rock he recognized. The cave was about midway along and he could see from their position that the huge Sitka spruce still stood. But the stretch from here to there was like the clearing down the hill. Too open for comfort.
He turned to Hetty and whispered, “I want to check and make sure the cave isn’t…occupied.”
It was unlikely, this late in the year and at this time of day, but still possible that some creature or creatures were sheltering there. The opening was too narrow for a bear of any size, but smaller wildlife had used the cave before, leaving evidence of nests, droppings and food debris behind.
“Okay,” she answered just as quietly. “I’ll go check on that little waterfall that was over there.” She glanced to her right.
He remembered the small rivulet that ran down the south side of the rocks. He’d prefer she stay put, but he also knew they needed water. He was already thirsty after the long hike and she had to be, too. So, reluctantly, he nodded. Thought about saying, “Be careful,” or some such other warning, but stopped himself. Hetty knew as well as he did to take care up here and not just because that shooter might still be in the area. She was aware that with one wrong step, she could take a tumble she wouldn’t easily recover from. Especially as completely out of touch as they were now.
And then she was gone, moving as silently as he had been. Jaw set, he headed toward the cave. It was awkward, doing it in a crouch, but safer in case the shooter had perhaps spotted or heard them.
He made it to the cover of the big tree and took his first full breath. He edged around the slight outcropping of rock, hoping nothing had happened to block off their planned shelter’s entrance. The narrow opening was just as he’d remembered. He stopped, listened, but heard nothing from inside. Still, he had his knife at the ready when he moved again. He had to find the perfect middle ground between stooping and staying constricted enough himself to get through it.
It was, thankfully, empty. There were signs that perhaps a coyote or three had wintered here, including bones leftover from whatever the clever carnivores had caught for several meals.
As long as we don’t add any human bones to that pile…
His thoughts went immediately to Hetty and he turned to exit the cave. He needed to tell her they were good and to get her into the shelter. He didn’t want her out there any longer than necessary. He could use a drink of that clear, mountain water himself, if the little creek was still running.
The moment he got back outside, he heard something. A sound that was half gasp, half scream. His entire body tensed.
An instant later, he heard a sharp unmistakable crack of sound.
Another shot.
And another scream.
Hetty.
Chapter 11
The fiery pain in her left thigh made her want to scream a third time, but Hetty knew that first loud gasp of shock and surprise was what had given her away. She hadn’t been able to stop it, not after what she had found in the trees just past the tiny waterfall. She had the feeling the horrible image would be with her for the rest of her life.
Assuming she didn’t bleed to death right here and now.
