Chapter 9 #2
While most of his new acquaintances had been friendly enough, a few had eyed him with distrust for most of the evening.
Chris Miller, Ashley’s husband, had hung out with him for most of the dance while his daughter, Lucy, played with Jenna.
Chris had told Adam to give those people the middle finger, but he'd passed on the suggestion. Their attitudes toward him weren’t unexpected, and as long as Jenna had a good time, nothing else mattered.
He was learning to live with the proverbial scarlet letter on his chest.
After the quick water break, he finished repairing the last section of fence just in time. A gray curtain of rain was sweeping across Bart Sherman’s expansive property, and lightning flashed in the distance. He needed to hurry if he was going to beat it back to the house.
He gathered his tools and placed them with the old, rotted posts in the truck bed. As he bent down to pick up the remaining roll of fence wire, something struck the dirt beside it, sending a puff of dust into the air.
A split second later, he heard the rifle shot.
Someone’s shooting at me!
Leaving the large spool where it sat, he dove toward the pickup truck just as another bullet struck the ground where he’d been a split second earlier.
Ducking behind the engine block, he tried to assess what was happening.
There shouldn’t be any hunters up in the woods, which meant the shots were no accident.
Someone up there was deliberately trying to kill him.
“Benji! Come here, boy!” The dog obeyed immediately and ran to Adam’s side. “Good boy. Stay.”
A close crack of thunder nearly had him jumping out of his skin, thinking for an instant there was another shooter to the west. Even Benji startled and whined, but stayed beside him.
If they didn’t get out of there soon, he and the dog would be sitting ducks for not only the maniac in the woods but the lightning striking all around them.
Taking a chance on getting shot in the foot, Adam dropped lower and crab-crawled forward until he could open the truck’s passenger door.
Evan’s phone was in the center console, and a loaded rifle hung in the rack behind the seats.
Grabbing the cell, Adam almost dropped it when the driver’s window exploded, peppering him with shattered glass.
“Holy—” Snatching the rifle from its perch, he slammed the door shut and huddled behind the engine block. Benji practically glued his furry self to Adam’s thigh.
Dialing 9-1-1, he prayed Sage and the kids were safe back at the main house.
“9-1-1, what is your emergency?” a bored female voice asked.
“This is Adam Westfield out at Heaven’s Pastures. There’s a sniper in the north woods shooting at me.”
“A sniper? You mean a hunter?”
He almost rolled his eyes. “No, I mean a sniper has shot at me three times. Send patrol out here and tell them to be careful.”
“Hold, please.”
Pulling the phone from his ear, he stared at it incredulously.
She put me on hold? Seriously?
He dropped to his knees, leaned down, and peeked under the truck to see if anyone had emerged from the tree line.
So far, so good.
Fat raindrops began pelting his back, but his attention remained split between watching for the shooter and waiting for the damn operator to get back on the line. No more gunfire sounded, but the thunder and lightning were getting closer.
When the phone line clicked, it wasn’t the female dispatcher again. “This is Sheriff Cosgrove. Who’s this?”
Adam was pretty sure the man knew exactly who was on the line before he picked up, because his animosity was glaringly clear.
“Adam Westfield. I’m at Sage’s ranch, and there’s a sniper up in the north woods shooting at me.”
“Probably a hunter. I doubt it’s anything to worry about unless it’s one of your old prison buddies paying you a visit.”
Anger coursed through him as his voice grew louder and harsher.
“Are you freaking kidding me? Listen, Cosgrove…” He intentionally left off the man’s title.
“…it’s not a damn hunter. Get your men out here now!
Sage and her kids are on the property, and if something happens to one of them, there’ll be hell to pay. Understood?”
A harrumph came over the line, but thankfully, the man no longer argued. “I’ll send someone over.”
The call disconnected, and he fought the urge to throw the phone. By the time the sheriff got around to sending someone to investigate, he could be dead.
Dropping low in the mud that had quickly formed beneath him, he scanned the expanse between the truck and the bottom of the hill leading into the woods.
Another bolt of lightning streaked across the sky, with the crack of thunder a split second behind it.
He couldn’t wait anymore. He had to risk making a run for it.
Opening the door again, he kept as low as possible and crawled into the truck.
He held onto the rifle and slid across the bench seat, ignoring the thousands of tiny pieces of glass.
Calling for Benji to jump in after him, he cranked the key while ducking away from the open space where the driver’s window used to be.
The engine roared to life as the now soaking-wet dog huddled in the passenger footwell.
Without bothering to close the door—the truck’s momentum would take care of that—he threw the vehicle into gear and gunned the accelerator.
The tires spun momentarily before finding traction and sending the truck hurtling across the pasture.
The tailgate was still down, and some posts and tools flew out of the bed, but that was the least of his worries.
Between the deluge pounding on the truck’s roof, the rain blowing through the broken window, and the thunder roaring overhead, he couldn’t be certain, but it appeared the shooter had ceased his ambush.
Adam wasn’t taking any chances, though. The speeding truck bounced hard as it ate up the distance between the northwest pasture and Sage’s house, and he prayed he didn’t bust an axle or anything else underneath.
Moments later, he skidded to a stop beside the main barn beneath a metal overhang, hoping to keep the truck’s interior from getting completely flooded. Grabbing the rifle, he threw open the door.
“C’mon, boy!”
The two made a mad dash to the back porch of the house, which didn’t stop them from getting soaked.
Adam yanked open the screen door just as Sage opened the interior one.
Her eyes widened as he bolted into the kitchen, rifle in hand and Benji on his heels.
Man and dog ignored the puddles they left in their wake.
Sage shut the door. “Wh-what’s wrong? Are you okay? I saw you racing in.”
“Where are the kids?” he barked, more concerned about their safety than how harsh he sounded.
“In their rooms. Adam, what’s wrong?”
Reaching around her, he locked the back door before striding through the house and setting the deadbolt on the front. Lowering his voice so the children wouldn’t hear, he said, “Someone was shooting at me from the trees above the northwest pasture.”
“What? Oh, my God! Are you sure? Were you hit?” Her gaze swept over him as her hands frantically searched for signs of blood.
He placed a shaking hand on her shoulder and tried to slow his adrenaline-fueled pulse. “Shh, Sage. I’m fine, and so is Benji. Just soaking wet, that’s all. And yes, I’m positive I was the target.”
The dog chose that moment to shake the rain from his body, sending water flying in every direction, and Adam wished he could do the same. He was soaked to the skin.
“I called 9-1-1, and the sheriff is sending some deputies over, although I’m sure the guy is long gone. The driver’s window of Evan’s truck is gone too.”
“You could’ve been killed.” She was still in shock and continued checking him for injuries, but at least she was now talking in a hushed tone. “Oh, my God! Why was someone shooting at you?”
“I have no idea, but you better believe I’m going to find out. Go check on the kids and get your pistol until the cavalry shows up.”
He nudged her toward the hallway before returning to the kitchen. From the window over the sink, he could see a good portion of the property and anyone approaching from that direction. Benji would alert them as usual if a vehicle came up the long driveway in front of the house.
Adam glanced at the kitchen clock. Maddie and Evan would return soon, and he had to warn them. Finding Maddie’s number in the phone he still had on him, he pressed send and waited for her to pick up.
“Hello?” She never answered the phone while she was driving, so she was in the passenger seat, or they were still at Evan’s appointment.
“It’s Adam. Are you still at the doctor’s?”
“We’re on our way home. Do you need something from town?”
“No,” he answered as Sage rushed back into the kitchen with her loaded pistol in hand, aiming it at the floor. She must have told the children to stay in their rooms for now. “I need to talk to Evan. Tell him to pull over and give him the phone.”
“All—all right.” The woman had clearly figured out that something was wrong.
Seconds later, the older man came on the line. “What’s wrong, son?”
Over the past few weeks of working together and having long talks about a multitude of subjects, Evan had taken to calling him “son” occasionally, and it reminded Adam of his foster father. The two men probably would have become good friends if Harry were still alive.
“Don’t come home yet. Someone was shooting at me from the woods above the northwest pasture.”
“What! Are you—”
“I’m fine,” he assured him. “I’m back at the house with Sage and the kids, waiting for the damn sheriff to send his men over here. I just don’t want you pulling in until the deputies arrive.”