Treacherous Trails Page 17

  Ella fought for control. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Silverton. I know you loved him, but he’s not the man he’s pretending to be, and now he has my sister.”

  “I am not sure what to do,” Candy said. “It’s an unfamiliar feeling for me. I am usually quite certain of my decisions, but now...”

  “We’re waiting for him to contact us,” Owen put in. “Do you know where he is?”

  Her reply seemed to take a very long time. “He came home a few hours ago, just before I found the private eye’s number. I asked him about his late wife and why he hadn’t told me about her. He said it was too painful, the train wreck and losing her.” She drummed on the coffee cup. “So sincere. You’d never guess it was anything but the purest truth.”

  “So he’s at your home? Now? Is it possible he’ll have Betsy brought there?” She was grasping at straws and she knew it. He was not stupid enough to have a disabled woman carried onto his girlfriend’s property and risk someone noticing.

  Candy’s eyes shifted in thought. “After our talk, he said he had to attend to a business matter with the broodmares. I demanded to see them and he said he’d arrange it, but I’m beginning to think he’s not going to let me see those horses. They’re probably worth nothing.”

  “But Doc Potter checked them over.”

  She lifted a shoulder. “Bruce probably showed him the wrong horses. I have a feeling the ones I put a deposit on aren’t worth nearly what I paid, but I’m putting pressure on Bruce now so he has to come up with something. I told him if I don’t see them with my own eyes in the next twenty-four hours, I’m calling off the sale. He agreed to my deadline. Said he’d be back tomorrow.”

  Reed was gone for twenty-four hours? Was he planning on returning after he’d gotten his hands on the evidence? And killed her sister? She swallowed. At least she could rest easy that Ray could not force a confrontation and get himself killed.

  The desperation of their situation crashed in on her full-on. Reed had no way of ensuring that they wouldn’t act against his wishes and distribute copies of Linda’s claims to the police. The only leverage he had was Betsy’s life. Maybe Owen had been right—they should have told the police everything. Cold seeped deep into her bones. She realized Candy was looking at her.

  “I’m sorry,” Candy said. “I didn’t want to think Bruce was responsible. It was...less painful to blame it on you.”

  Ella took her hand, clutching at the scant comfort of having Candy believe her. “He fooled all of us.”

  Candy tightened her grip. “What should I do? How can I help you find Betsy?”

  “Gather anything in your home that we could use as evidence against him,” Ella said. “Maybe Luke made other notes. We’ll present it to the police if...when...”

  “When we get Betsy back,” Owen finished. “In the meantime, don’t let Reed back into your house. If he returns, text me right away and don’t contact the police.” He gave her his cell number.

  Candy pulled her jacket around her. “There’s one more thing you should know.” Her expression was grim.

  Ella braced herself for the next blow.

  “Bruce left with a pair of hiking boots and jeans, as if he was planning on being outside.”

  Outside? Possibly on his way to Misery Flats?

  “And...and he took something else with him.”

  “What?”

  “A gun.”

  * * *

  Owen listened carefully as they laid out their plans by the flickering firelight. Rain pounded on the roof of the Gold Bar, and the scent of wood smoke and coffee drifted in the air. Owen felt a sense of relief that they were finally going to take the offensive, get to Misery Flats and conduct their own search to find Betsy before Reed set up the exchange.

  “Rain’s supposed to stop in the next couple of hours,” Owen said.

  Ray nodded. “We’ll go before then. Sunrise is at oh six hundred, and we’ll be in place before that. Flashlights, rifles, radios.” He shot a look at Ella. “We can move out the back and Reed won’t see us, even if he has people watching, which I think was a bluff anyway. You and Mrs. Thorn stay here in case there’s any info from the cops.”

  “No.” Ella folded her arms across her chest. “I’m coming.”

  “Uh-uh,” Ray said.

  Owen could have told Ray that he had zero chance of ordering his sister to stay back, but Ray forged ahead anyway until Ella cut him off, with fire in her eyes.

  “Do you know how to soothe Betsy, Ray? Do you know how to help her drink water when the muscles of her throat tighten up? When was the last time you massaged the kinks out of her calves or calmed her when she has a nightmare about things she can’t communicate?”

  His mouth opened then shut and he had the decency to look chagrined. “Okay. I get it. I’m sorry, sis. You’re with me. Jack and Keegan together.”

  “On horseback,” Jack said. “There’s a horse trail in from the back Reed probably doesn’t know about.”

  Ray gave him a startled look, then a nod. “Good. Tony won’t even hear you coming. Tom and Evie can stay here and call for backup if we need it.”

  Owen felt the insult as Ray intended. “And me?”

  “You watch the road in and out. Alert if there’s any traffic.”

  He wanted to argue, to insist that he be there at Ella’s side, but Ray didn’t want him anywhere close to his sister. Owen knew he was justified at some level. Owen was distracted by her presence, by her spirit, by that soul that danced inside her and made him want to be different, better. The reality of it reared up inside him. Somewhere along the trail, his friendship with the freckle-faced Ella had morphed into love.

  Had that love distracted him from keeping her safe? Had his burning desire to return to the marines preoccupied him from devoting himself fully to her protection? It didn’t matter why, he told himself savagely. He hadn’t helped convict Bruce Reed and he hadn’t prevented Tony from taking Betsy. What had he done exactly, but secure his return to duty and witnessed Ella’s descent into a state of desperation that threatened to drown her?

  “Affirmative,” he said quietly, avoiding Ella’s gaze.

  They lingered by the fireside, putting together supplies. Owen made sure his rifle was clean and fully loaded. There would be no shots fired unless absolutely necessary, they had all agreed. He knew his brothers would be extra cautious, but he could not be quite as certain about Ray. He was hungry for revenge at the wrongs visited on his family.

  As he filled up some water bottles at the kitchen tap, he felt Ella next to him.

  “Ray’s just upset and he defaults to this kind of behavior when he can’t manage his emotions.”

  Owen smiled. “Been there, done that. I get it. He’s right anyway. I should have anticipated Reed’s level of desperation.”

  “No one can anticipate a crazy person’s actions.”

  Her small face shone up at him with such faith, such trust, that his breath caught. He capped the water bottles and allowed himself to trace a finger over the perfect curve of her cheek.

  “I’m sorry, Ella. I let you down, just like Ray said.”

  “No, you didn’t. None of this is your fault.”

  All of it is, he thought. I love you and I’m leaving you. At that moment he wanted to kiss her again, like he had in the hospital room, to find that perfect connection that restored him like no medicine or victory ever had. He ached at the distance between them, only inches that would soon be meters, continents, years.

  Ray came up, taking one of the water bottles. “Ella, it’s time to go. Evie wants to talk to you first.”

  She nodded and left the kitchen.

  Ray’s jaw was set into a hard line. “We’ll straighten this out and she can have her life back.”

  He didn’t speak.

  “She deserves that, a normal life, with a guy who will be there f
or her.”

  Not like you, Owen.

  Ray gave an apologetic shrug. “It’s nothing personal, man, but she’s my sister and like we always said, guys like us are built for war, not for weddings.”

  Owen heard Ella’s voice in his memory.

  You’re made for more than that.

  But his dream, his desire to return to the marines would take first place in his heart, like it always had.

  Picking up his rifle, he moved out into the storm-soaked night.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Ella clung to the armrest as Ray’s truck bounced up the steep trail toward Misery Flats, jarring her spine and rattling her teeth. A heavy fringe of pines blackened the path even more. It was almost one o’clock in the morning, and she fought against the fatigue that came in alternating waves with the terror. When they got to the top, he turned off the headlights. Her brother had excellent night vision, but she still held her breath until they rolled to a stop behind an enormous pile of granite boulders. Ray turned on the radio, speaking softly.

  “Marine?”

  “All clear here,” Owen answered.

  “Brothers?”

  Jack’s quiet voice chimed in. “Approaching the south trail. We’ll be another twenty minutes. Footing’s slippery.”

  “Copy that.” Ray clicked off the radio. “I’m going to check things out.”

  She held up a hand. “Don’t even bother to tell me to stay put.” She zipped her jacket and pulled the black ski cap over her red hair. “Let’s go.”

  “And I thought I was the tough one.”

  “You thought wrong.”

  They climbed out, closing the car doors carefully. Scrambling onto the pile of rocks, they got a view of the town of Misery Flats spread out before them. Ella remembered from a long-ago school report that Misery Flats had once been home to more than 2,000 buildings and a population of close to 7,000 people before other booms in Montana, Arizona and Utah lured wealth seekers away.

  Now many of the buildings were collapsed, swallowed up by decay and debris, but hundreds were still upright, some hugging the dirt road which had turned to mud that wound along the hillside. The facade of the brick buildings had fared better than the wooden structures, standing tall in the rain. The acres spread out before them, and Ella felt her spirit fall. It had been hours since her sister had been taken. Hours with no food, water, without even her wheelchair. Ella swallowed hard and mouthed a prayer.

  “Where do we start?”

  “There.” Ray pointed to a boxy two-story brick structure. “Old schoolhouse. We can get an excellent view from the roof.”

  The walls gleamed wetly in the rain. Ella wondered how sturdy the structure was after centuries of blazing Gold Country sun and the damp winter conditions.

  Ray hitched the rifle by a strap over his shoulder and grabbed hold of the iron ladder, which led past the second level to the roof that would indeed provide the perfect lookout. The metal groaned under his weight, so they decided she should not add to the load by climbing up after.

  The wind moaned around them, spattering her with water droplets that snaked down the back of her jacket, sending her shivering. Was Betsy cold? Was she at least out of the driving rain? Were they even looking in the right spot? Again she checked her phone, which still showed no calls from Reed or anyone else. Only a text from Owen.

  I’m here.

  How comforting were those two words. With her brother and Owen at her side, she felt a slight twinge of hope that maybe, just maybe, they could find Betsy before Ella was forced to hand over the envelope and key.

  Ray was halfway up the ladder, climbing easily. One second he was ascending, and then there was a shriek of metal, followed by a horrible ear-splitting groan as the ladder separated from the crumbling brick and came crashing to the earth.

  She screamed and ran to her brother. At first she could not find him until she heard a groan a few yards away. She ran to the edge of a ravine. Ray lay at the bottom, leg splayed at an awkward angle.

  Clutching the radio she frantically messaged. “Ray’s fallen.” Not waiting for a reply, she scrambled down to him, heedless of the rocks and twisted roots that caught at her.

  “Ray,” she panted. He was on his side, face contorted with pain, his rifle fallen a few feet away. “How bad is it?”

  He grimaced and rolled onto his back. “I’m all right.”

  She didn’t believe it for a moment. Running her hands along his arms and neck, she checked for anything out of alignment or the warm feel of blood. She found nothing until she started in on his legs. When she touched his right ankle, he clamped his lips together to keep from crying out.

  “Broken?” she breathed.

  “Nah, just a sprain. Give me a minute. I’ll be okay.”

  After some labored breathing, he sat up and shook the dirt from his hair. “See? I told you I’m fine.”

  She decided not to disagree with him. A quiet scrunch of boots against the ground sent her heartbeat skittering.

  “My gun,” Ray breathed. “Can you get it?”

  She was halfway there when a voice called out.

  “It’s me, Ella.” Owen crouched next to Ray. “Fine time for a rest break.”

  “I don’t need your help.” He shot a glance at Ella. “You shouldn’t have called him.”

  “Can’t unspill the milk, as my father says,” Owen said, keeping his voice quiet. “Can you walk on it?”

  “Of course I can walk on it.” Ray did accept Owen’s hand with obvious reluctance. As soon as he put weight on the ankle, it gave out and he would have gone down again if Owen hadn’t held him up.

  “Mission’s over for you, Ray. I’ll take you back to the truck.” His voice held the tiniest note of mischief. “You can take over my job as lookout.”

  Ray fumed. “I’m not leaving Ella.”

  “Then she can sit in the truck with you.”

  Now Ella gave him a look similar to her brother’s. “I...” Her phone buzzed. Every ounce of warmth drained from her as she saw Reed’s message glowing on the screen.

  * * *

  Owen felt Ray’s grip on his shoulder tighten like a vise. The weight of his big friend sent a pulse of pain through his still-injured shoulder, which he ignored.

  “Ella?”

  “It’s Reed. He said to meet him at the old stamp mill with the key and Linda’s notes or he’ll kill Betsy.”

  Owen experienced the surreal calm he always felt when he knew he was about to walk into the chaos of battle. “Give them to me. I’ll go and meet him.”

  “No, he will be looking for me.”

  Owen and Ray both started to argue at the same time, but she simply shook her head. “The mill is just around the bend in the road. I’m going.”

  Owen led a struggling Ray back to his truck and half shoved him in the front seat. Ray gripped his forearm. “Don’t let her down.”

  Don’t let her die, is what he really meant.

  He left his stricken friend behind the wheel with his rifle and the radio. “Call the cops if I say so. Get them here quick.” That would mean Ella’s brash plan to get her sister back had failed. He knew from grim experience it might have failed already, and Betsy may have already been murdered.

  He closed the truck door, radioed his brothers, and caught up with Ella, who was marching through the wet scrub to avoid the road where she would be easily seen. The key gleamed on the string around her neck.

  He took her hand and she turned to look at him. “I didn’t want your help.”

  “I know.”

  “But I’m grateful to have it.”

  He squeezed her cold fingers in reply. The magnificent strength of Ella Cahill took his breath away. She was scared, terrified, yet she would face down any danger or difficulty for her sister. The responsibility she’d thought to escape as a
teenager had turned out to be the very thing that had transformed her into what God wanted her to be. Betsy was no burden; she was a path of life that God had chosen for Ella, instead of the one she’d chosen for herself.

  They slowed on the last swell of hill, hunkering down between a rickety chapel, panes of glass beside the door still partially intact, and an enormous pile of what must have been a general store. Now it was nothing more than a ten-foot-high pile of wood and brick with some graffiti scrawled across it by some modern-day trouble seekers.

  Owen used his binoculars to scan the stamp mill. It was a tall four-story structure made of wood that had decayed in some spots, leaving access for wildlife and the elements. No signs of life.

  The mill had been used during Misery Flats’ heydays to crush the gold ore into a powder, which was treated with mercury to remove the gold. Up close the stamp mill was no more than a rusted shell, filled with the relics of a bustling industry. Some sort of night flier, perhaps a bat or an owl, swept past them into one of the gaping holes in the siding. The smell of wet iron and rust permeated the damp air.

  “I’ll go by myself from here,” she said.

  “No way.”

  “If I...if we don’t come out, you can get him.”

  “Ella Jo,” he said, rifle ready in his hands. “You’re gonna give me five minutes, and I’m gonna make entry into that stamp mill without him even knowing it.” His plan was that Ella would not have to walk through those moldering doors at all. “You down with the plan?”

  She quirked an exasperated smile. “Does it matter?”

  “Nope.” He leaned over before he could second-guess himself and pulled her to him, his mouth fitting perfectly to hers as if she was made for him, a match, body and soul. He sought a kiss for courage, for comfort, yet the feelings that bubbled up inside were so much deeper that it made his head spin until they broke the kiss.