Chapter 33
CADE
The smell of exhaust swamped me when I pulled out of the driveway, cut a sharp right, and revved the snowmobile faster.
Established tire ruts ran up this dirt road, heading to a neighboring ranch closer to the trees.
The Jeep tire tracks would blend in here if Richard drove this way, but not if he took the two-track.
Answers were a short distance away.
I let everything else except my focus on the road melt out of my mind.
The helmet protected my head from the gusts slamming into us with increasing strength, and I kept the eye shield up to see better.
Our high beams were the sole light source, and the low, snowy ceiling lurked with dark promises of a nefarious night.
Near the edge of the property, I slowed and found exactly what I sought. A ragged old fence piled with snow marked the edge of the property, making it easy to delineate where it ended.
Exactly where it ended sat two tire tracks going up and over the embankment.
The tracks cut off the road and onto the two-track, expertly navigating a high point on the ditch.
Snow and ice piled high, making it passable.
I let the engine idle, stood, and waved Wyatt next to me. He shouted over the engines.
“Old hoss! You’re always right! It’s crazy.”
“Head back,” I shouted. “Tell them we’ve found a set of fresh tire tracks heading up the two-track.”
Wyatt laughed. “No way! I’m going with you. You might need me. The storm is picking up, and you need to make sure Lily can return home if something has happened. There’s no way a Jeep will make it to the forest service road.”
I muttered swear words under my breath. He was right; I did need another person. I reached for my phone and pulled it out. No reception. Stuffing it back in my coat, I twirled a finger in the air.
Wyatt revved the engine and followed me over the snowbank.
In near-blizzard conditions like this, the Jeep couldn’t be going fast. There was a reality where Richard might make it work for a mile or two, but not forever.
Eventually, the two-track would thin out, depositing them in the forest to flounder around, seeking the turn off that led to the forest service road in the middle of a blizzard.
That’s exactly what he wanted.
But several feet of snow on the ground and blowing winds would make it nearly impossible. So the rescue mission became less of a save-Lily-from-her-crazy-grandparents to save-Lily-from-the-storm.
I had my doubts Richard would give up until he was absolutely stuck, and that’s where we stepped in.
Once we cleared the ditch, came up a bluff, and saw the open field before me, I almost swore again.
Wind and snow blocked my view of the distant mountains, but I knew they were there.
The Jeep’s tire tracks cut into the scene, heading mostly in the anticipated direction.
Snow already started to fill the bottom, but they lay plenty visible. Richard must be guessing his way along.
I kicked the engine up and soared out.
Every few minutes, I slowed to check on Wyatt, but it was a wasted effort.
He kept up, off to my side, on the right Jeep track.
I pushed the snowmobile beyond safe limits, skimming the top of the snow, riding along the left tire track.
The terrain changed from open fields to half-buried brush, saplings, and eventually trees.
The higher we climbed, the more the storm battered my cheeks. Cold crept in. The snowmobiles had heaters on the grips, but the warmth didn’t permeate fast enough through my gloves to do more than keep stiffness at bay.
By some miracle, Richard had made it this far.
Then the trees closed in for real. We slid into the pines all at once, leaving the more sparsely populated bushes behind. Darkness came with falling snow drapes and difficulty seeing. Our two beams combined to widen our visibility, but it still didn’t make this safe.
We pressed on.
“C’mon,” I muttered. “You didn’t have that much of a head start, and you can’t go fast in weather like this.”
But maybe the extra hour was enough. And if Richard knew where to turn off, or had the good luck to find it, then there was a chance they were already on the forest service road and heading into Idaho. It may be too late for me to bring Lily home tonight.
Yet, if the Jeep high-centered, or hit a tree and they were stuck, where there was no reception . . .
I bit back the fears. They weren’t helpful.
Snow thickened, making it difficult to see through the headlights. I tracked the tire marks, but barely. The longer we rode, the harder the wind, the less visibility we had. Everything was obscured.
Wyatt dropped behind me. There wasn’t space for two machines.
Barely enough for the Jeep, in some portions.
The powdery mix fell fast and heavy, intermixed with windy gusts that robbed even Wyatt of his enjoyment.
The hallowed mountain stillness felt feral, snarling, compared to the happy whoops we left behind.
When a clearing opened up, the storm hit us full force. I stopped, turning sideways as a gust threatened to pitch me over. Wyatt pulled up next to me.
“Hoss!” he shouted. “I can barely see!”
“I know!”
I left the machine idling, stepped off, and waded ahead. My stomach tightened into a hard knot.
Oh, no.
I spun in a circle, not seeing a thing. Not a track, not a tire. Not a hint of life. When had I missed the tracks? Where had I missed them? Visibility had been tough for almost a mile. Had I . . .
“Where’s the tracks?” I called.
Wyatt held up both hands.
“I don’t know!”
My heart pounded. I couldn’t search much longer and risk our lives. Right now, we had clarity because we could see our tracks leading home. But the storm would cover all of this up soon enough, and we wouldn’t find our way.
I pulled my phone out. With any luck, I could pinpoint our location on the GPS, find the forest service road, and head toward it in the hopes of checking for tire tracks there. The snow swirled so thickly that I had to turn my back to the wind and hold the phone close to my chest to see.
At some point, we had driven into an area with reception.
There definitely wasn’t any here, but three text messages had popped up.
One from Cora, one from Hawk, and another from a number I didn’t recognize.
I tapped it, my thumb almost numb. There was a link that I couldn’t open, but then there was a photo.
It hadn’t downloaded all the way, but I saw enough details to know exactly what I looked at.
A terrain-style map, and a dot. A message lay beneath the image when I scrolled farther down.
Unknown number: This is Noah, Hawk’s brother. I’ve found a potential location for the grandparents. It’s not exact.
I frowned, studying the picture and terrain. In it, I made out a few vague details. Nothing certain, but a hint of rock formations that I felt relatively positive we’d already passed.
Wyatt climbed off his machine, waded over. The snow gripped him almost to his thighs.
“What’s up?” he called.
“I think . . . I think we’re too far east.”
“What?”
“I think we’re too far east!” I cried. I pointed west. “If we go that way, we might find them!”
Wyatt glanced at the phone, shrugged, and said, “I’m at three quarters in my gas tank. We have plenty of gas.”
A veritable don’t get scared now, if I ever heard one.
“We have to find them,” I shouted, but Wyatt didn’t need convincing. “Doesn’t matter what happens, they won’t last long in this weather.”
He spun his hand in the air with an impatient flick of his wrist. “Why are we still talking about it? Let’s keep going.”
A surge of gratitude welled up in my chest. Wyatt, the impetuous disaster of a young man had always been welcome at my ranch, and he always would be. This kind of raw courage was a difficult trait to find.
I slapped him on the shoulder.
“Follow me.”
Instinct surged again as I guided us out of the clearing, toward what I hoped was due west. We had to navigate through trees, away from the tracks that once nudged us farther northwest. I followed the intuition in my gut. The one that urged me to try the two-track in the first place.
I listened to it now.
Ten minutes later, after alternately easing around trees and through thickets or charging across open snow, I saw a distant glimmer. At first, I considered it a trick of the light. Then it came again.
I held my breath.
Headlights.
I stopped my snowmobile directly behind the stuck Jeep.
I faced the haphazard path Richard struggled to make in this deeper, drifted snow.
Headlights on, flashers blinking, the Jeep sat cockeyed and stuck on a snow embankment.
Attempts to dig out were clear, but led to nowhere.
The snow was too deep to reach the ground.
Wyatt pulled up next to me as the driver’s side door shoved open. It scraped against snow as Richard stumbled free.
My anger locked in, all my energy came forward. Blood rushed to my hands, warming them with tingles, like preparing the knuckles to take a beating when and if I decided to smash my fist into Richard’s nose.
I’d love to.
Wouldn’t, but I wanted to. Cowboy Code demanded he throw the first punch, and then I would be all in.
Richard stood next to the Jeep, trembling.
“You all right?” I called.
He squinted against the storm. My headlights pointed off to the side, but lights from the dash illuminated his expression enough.
With the door open, I could see into the back seat.
Ashley sat there, baby in her arms. Lily cried inconsolably, and my heart cracked.
Molten rage almost poured out, but I schooled it.
But only because I saw something in Richard’s eyes.
Fear.
Actual fear.
“How’d you find us?” he called. The question almost ripped off his lips, taken by the storm. I grabbed his wrist, yanked him away from the door, and shut it.
“There’s a baby in that car!” I shouted. “And you’re letting the cold in. I followed your tire tracks. You aren’t as smart as you think. I knew where you’d go, and what you’d try to do.”
Richard looked down and grumbled something I couldn’t hear. This situation would resolve easily enough. I’d leave him behind. Take Lily, put her in the carrier, and wear her home. Ashley could ride with Wyatt.
Cowboy Code protected the weak, not the stupid.
He could sit this storm out alone, and then come up with a new plan to get home once it settled. He deserved it. He deserved worse, in fact, for all his poor treatment of Noelle and Lily combined.
But I couldn’t do it.
In Ashley, I saw a devastated woman misplaced by her husband’s fanaticism for greed. I saw the broken family that somehow brought Noelle into the world. Noelle’s view on life, her love for Lily, was a miracle considering who she’d grown up with.
But there was one fact that I couldn’t forget: without these fools, I wouldn’t have Noelle or Lily.
So I owed them.
One thing, and then nothing ever again.
“We’re going to do it one way!” I shouted over the storm.
“I’m going to wear Lily under my coat so she stays warm, and she’s going to ride back to the ranch with me.
Ashley is going to join me on my snowmobile, and you will go with Wyatt.
We’ll take you to town, drop you off at a hotel, and let the state troopers know we found you.
Since they’re looking for you,” I added.
A flash of terror appeared in his eyes, then went out as quickly. His lips clamped down in a stubborn twist.
I held a finger right in his face. Although I spoke low, and gravely, and angry, it didn’t matter how loud the wind, I knew he heard every word I said.
“Then, you are going to leave and never come back. You’re going to deal with whatever issues you have at your job without Noelle, and we will never hear from you again.
Because if we do hear from you again, you’ll deal with me.
Whatever fire you think you’re facing now is going to seem small in comparison. ”
The threat found a mark, because Richard paled. His nostrils flared, cheeks twitched like a trapped, livid rabbit. I expected him to try to punch me, swing a fist, something, but he just melted against the door.
“Fine,” he snapped, but it had no power. “Fine.”
I lifted an arm to call for Wyatt.
“Stay right there,” I commanded Richard, “until Wyatt tells you he’s ready.” I paused, my hand wrapped around the door handle to reach for Lily. “Oh, and hold on tight. Wyatt’s a bull rider and an impetuous fool.”