Chapter 4
Hattie Monroe ran as fast as her bare feet would carry her. The cuts and scrapes that were quickly accumulating on her soles weren’t nearly as much of a threat as what chased her through the mountains of Northern Arizona.
Her lungs burned as she sucked in as much of the dry, autumn air as she could. It wasn’t enough. She pushed and strained at her muscles, demanding her body to go faster, but it refused. She was slowing down.
A hummingbird had once gotten stuck in the barn.
Hattie had opened the door and tried to shoo it out into the open, but the silly thing didn’t understand.
It buzzed wildly from rafter to rafter until its energy gave out.
Its wings still buzzed frantically, but it slowly descended through the air until Hattie had reached out and caught it with her palm.
She was that hummingbird, but nobody was around to rescue her and set her free. She was alone. Horribly, bitterly alone. Not just there on the mountain, but in the entire world.
Tears blurred her vision, but it was too dark to see much anyway.
The sliver of moon gave her just enough light not to smack into a tree, but the brush and branches still reached out with their sticklike hands to grab at her clothing.
The blood that soaked the front of her dress was hardening, and it scraped harshly against her legs.
Not my blood, she reminded herself, although it only made her feel worse.
She should’ve gotten a horse. Hattie envisioned herself in the saddle, flying off through the night. They’d still have come after her, but at least she’d have had a chance. At least she wouldn’t have been completely alone. A horse’s companionship was better than nothing.
There was one advantage she had over anyone on horseback, though. There were some places that a person on two feet could go where a horse couldn’t. Hattie just needed to find one of those places.
The road in front of her was narrow and twisting as it scrawled through the mountains. It made her vulnerable, and she couldn’t keep running all night. She wasn’t sure she could run for another five minutes.
The landscape changed as she went around a curve. The road had been carved from the mountains, and a steep hillside rose up on her right. It stretched to the top of a ridgeline, where the moon silvered the pine branches overhead. It was the best chance she was likely to have for some time.
Her thighs screamed as she shot up the hillside.
The angle was so sharp that she only had to put her hands out, and then she was crawling vertically up through the brush.
The trees had been determined when they grew there, sending their roots out like small steps that were just big enough for her toes to grip.
If they could follow her up there, then she’d never have a chance of getting away.
“Hattie!” cried an all-too-familiar voice.
She gulped and gasped as she wedged herself between the hillside and the base of a large pine, hoping it was big enough to hide her. Hattie scooted further forward, but her feet could find no more ground. A small rock dislodged from underneath her, and when it fell, she never heard where it landed.
Leaning against the tree trunk, she gave her eyes a moment to adjust. Pale silver light illuminated a vast valley that opened up under her feet. The bottom of it was invisible, but the moon danced along ridgetops that held it together.
There was no place to go from there.
“Hattie Monroe! I know you’re out here!” he called again.
She gritted her teeth and scrunched her eyes shut, as though she could will Cutter Kincaid out of existence. He was a demon in human form as far as she was concerned, him and his brother and their whole group of thugs!
Why, oh why had she been so stupid? Hattie was stubborn, yes. Her family had always told her so.
Stubborn could be the same as determined, her father had once said as he ruffled his fingers through her unruly curls.
Mama hadn’t appreciated that, but it’d always remained with Hattie.
Now what? What did she have left to her? She leaned her face against the rough bark and prayed they wouldn’t see her.
The light changed around her. Hattie dared to peer out from behind the pine tree.
On the road below the hillside, which was barely wide enough to allow a small wagon to pass, she spotted a line of torches blazing in the dark.
The flames bobbed and leaped as their carriers prowled through the mountains, searching for her.
“Hattie!” Cutter called.
He was trying to make his rough voice sound patient and kind. Hattie knew better. There was nothing patient or kind about him. Cutter knew only cruelty.
“I’m sure you’ve had enough of running. You’ve got to be tired, and probably hungry,” he wheedled. “We can put you on a horse and take you back to the ranch, nice and safe. Then we can talk about things.”
Her stomach growled, betraying her, but at least she was far enough up the hillside that they couldn’t hear her over the crackling of their torches.
Yes, she was hungry and tired. She would trade anything to get cleaned up and have a good meal, but hadn’t she already given up everything she ever had?
“Trust me, Hattie,” Cutter tried again. “It’ll be much easier if you just talk to us. We can work it all out like civilized people.”
“Not that Hattie was ever very civilized,” one of his men grumbled.
She scowled into the night. Let them say what they wanted about her. Hattie knew her bad qualities better than anyone else.
“I swear she went this way.” That was Bo, Cutter’s brother. His deep voice carried easily through the night.
“We’ll find her, boys,” Cutter promised. “I’ve tracked down plenty of men far more adept at getting through the wilderness than some little girl. It’s just a matter of time.”
Some little girl! They had no idea just who she was and what she was capable of if they believed that! Hattie balled her fists in indignation, and an argument rose up hard and fast in her throat.
They’re just trying to goad me. They think I can’t resist a fight, and I’ll come running out to defend myself.
They weren’t entirely wrong. That was the Hattie they’d come to know over the past couple of years, a girl who said exactly what she felt regardless of what anyone else thought about it.
She was still that girl, but so much had changed. An argument would carry with it a consequence, and that consequence would likely be the end of her life.
The torches were almost underneath her hiding spot, and Hattie pulled herself behind the tree once again. She folded her body as tightly as she could, making sure that not even her elbow or a strand of hair was visible if they tried to shine their lights further up the hillside.
“It’s like she just disappeared,” one of Cutter’s men said. “Like a ghost.”
“Shut up!” Cutter barked. “She’s too young and stupid to outsmart me, and she can’t last all night. Let’s just keep going. The road widens out a bit up ahead, and we’ll be able to move a little faster. Come on!”
They spurred their horses into a trot and blazed right past her. The line of flames receded into the night with their hoofbeats.
Hattie shook violently as she watched them go.
She rocked her head back against the tree trunk, but she couldn’t truly relax.
Cutter was just as stubborn and determined as he told his men he was.
Hattie didn’t know much about the work he did, but she knew enough to understand she didn’t want to be the target of it.
“What do I do now?” she asked the sliver of moon as it peeked at her through the boughs above her head. “
Her body answered, even if the moon didn’t. Her feet were bleeding. She needed food. More than anything, though, she just needed to rest for an hour or two. That would give her enough time and energy to think, to plan.
But where?
She looked over her left shoulder. The torches were no longer visible at all. They’d headed east. She would go north. It wasn’t much of a plan, but at least it was a start and Hattie clung to it.
Hattie’s legs protested as she unwedged herself from her little spot against the tree. It was easier to slide down to the road than it was to keep climbing up. She clung to the trees and bushes, trying not to fall. If she sprained her ankle or broke her arm, then she’d be as good as dead.
As soon as her sore feet hit the hard-packed earth of the road, Hattie took off in the direction Cutter and his men had come from.
She retraced her steps, racing along the road, her breath wheezing in her lungs.
The hillside rose on her left and a steep dropoff showed as pure blackness to her right. She was stuck on the road.
She was in the wildlands, though, where it was a miracle even to have a real road under her feet. Hattie tried to orient herself. Had she and her father come through the area before? She couldn’t quite remember, and there were no good landmarks in the dark.
The high wall of rock to her left finally gave way, leveling out with the road. Hattie took the chance and crashed into the woods. When Cutter realized he’d lost track of her, he’d come back. She couldn’t risk being on the road when that happened.
How good of a tracker was he, really? Hattie had heard stories of Cutter tracking down soldiers who’d run off from the battle lines of war, dragging them back and putting them in prison camps. Would he look at the overturned leaves on the ground and know precisely where she’d gone?
She couldn’t know, and she had so few options in front of her.
Her body and soul urged her to run, but she couldn’t move that quickly over the rough ground.
She soon realized that the rock wall hadn’t given way but had simply turned, and it was still on her left.
As she came over a small rise and the ground dipped down again, Hattie noticed a darkness near the base of the wall.
A cave!
It was so perfect that she felt a little thrill of excitement in her stomach as she pushed past some thorny bushes and over to the cave.
It wasn’t a home or a hotel, but she’d never needed fine trappings in order to live.
She could curl up in the safety of the mountain itself while Cutter wore himself out looking for her.
Several boulders were strewn about at the base of the rock wall, making little seats just in front of the cave entrance. Hattie lowered herself to one, and all the aches and pains came rushing back to her again.
She groaned as she folded her leg and lifted her foot, resting it on her left thigh as she tried to get a look at it. Dark lines slashed the bottom of it. They stung when she touched them, and her fingers came away wet. How much blood had she lost?
Hattie grabbed the hem of her dress and then wrenched her hands in opposite directions, but the fabric refused to tear. She cursed her mother’s fine sewing skills and tried again.
When the stubborn cotton remained in one piece, Hattie grabbed a small stick from a nearby tree. She forced it through the fabric and down through the hem. The tear gave her enough purchase to tear off a long strip, and then another.
Hattie wound the makeshift bandages around her feet and tied the knots on her insteps. They were crudest pair of shoes she’d ever owned, but at least there was some padding between herself and the ground. Hattie stood up experimentally and walked a few steps. Satisfied, she went into the cave.
Cool air wafted toward her, but it carried a musty stench. It was too dark to see anything beyond the entrance. Hattie couldn’t tell how deep the cave was, but she didn’t care. It was a shelter from the storm she’d gotten herself into, one that she wasn’t sure she’d ever get out of for good.
Brushing a few pine needles into the mouth of the cave, Hattie bunched them together to make a rough pillow. She curled up and closed her eyes.
Never before had she missed her house and her bedroom so much. Hattie had thrown a fit when her mother had put those silly lace curtains in her bedroom, and the pink quilt had looked just as ridiculous.
As ridiculous as sleeping in a cave?
A tear escaped her eye, but she brushed it aside. There was no time for crying. She needed rest, and then she needed to figure out what she was going to do next.
Her stomach rumbled and gurgled, reminding her that a true roof over her head wasn’t the only thing she missed. Her brows scrunched as she remembered the family dinners, something her mother always tried to make into a formal affair.
It was even worse when they had guests over for dinner, when Hattie would be stuffed and corseted into some frilly creation her mother had just whisked off the sewing machine and insisted looked wonderful on her.
Those dresses were always too tight around the middle for Hattie to actually enjoy any of the food.
Hattie dozed fitfully. Her head swam with images of torches, guns, and blood. Her ears rang with screams that’d died out long ago. She woke, confused and disoriented, and then the truth would come rushing back to her. Then she’d fall asleep again, only to repeat the cycle.
Until her eyes flicked open fully, and she was wide awake. Her body was tense, as though something had startled her awake. Hattie listened, expecting to hear Cutter’s voice. But the woods around her were completely silent. No torches gleamed on the tree trunks.
Then, just as she had almost convinced herself to go back to sleep, Hattie heard something strange. It was a shuffling noise, followed by something like the sigh of wind in the branches.
It was coming from behind her.
Hattie’s throat constricted. Footsteps. Breath. Someone had found her. No, she’d found them. The only question was who.
The noise grew closer. Hattie’s heart thrummed in her chest and pounded in her ears. Fear rippled under her skin and froze her muscles, but she forced herself to roll over.
A great, shaggy silhouette loomed over her, blotting out the stars.
The moon caught in its dark eye as the beast bent its big head and put its nose near her arm, sniffing her.
The musty stench she’d noticed before had increased tenfold, and she’d have gagged if she wasn’t frozen with fear.
A massive paw bumped against her back, the claws sharp and digging.
A bear!
Hattie screamed.
The bear roared, its hot breath blowing in her face.
She was going to die, but not at the hands of Cutter. She’d tried so hard to get away from him, only to be chased straight into the second most dangerous thing in the mountains besides a man.
Hattie rolled to her feet and ran back the way she’d come.