Page 49 of Cowboy Mountain Man

I set it down. “The card.”

“I don’t have it.”

He steps closer. “Don’t.”

“Harlan has it.” That much is true.

His eyes flick toward the back door. Then he catches my arm. “Fine. You’ll do.”

He takes me through the trees behind the cabin. His hand stays clamped above my elbow. The gun presses against my side whenever I slow.

I’m wearing my fur-lined boots. They’re still no more practical. In fact, they look sad and bedraggled.

At the edge of the clearing, I stumble. On purpose. He curses and hauls me upright.

My sister’s silver bracelet catches against a branch. The clasp gives.

I let it fall. Then keep walking. “You Daniel?” I ask.

“Shut up.”

“Pike?”

His fingers tighten. That answers it.

Good.

Now I know.

The trail slopes downhill toward a narrow dirt road. A utility vehicle waits beneath the trees. Not the pickup.

He pushes me into the passenger seat and binds my wrists with a plastic tie. Too tight. I curl my hands slightly before he pulls it snug.

A little room. Not enough to escape. Enough to keep my fingers working.

He takes the driver’s seat.

“What happens now?” I ask.

“You call your boyfriend.”

“He isn’t—” I stop.

He is. Or he could be. If I live long enough to finish the conversation.

Pike gives me a nasty look. “You think I didn’t see him hauling you up here?”

So he followed us. Maybe from the house… or from town.

“Where are you taking me?”

He starts the engine but doesn’t answer.

I memorize the turns. Left at a split pine. Downhill past a rusted gate. Across a wash where water runs over the tires. I keep my eyes open. Harlan knows this mountain. And I just left him something he can use. If he sees it in time.

Pike reaches for my bound hands. “Let me see.”

I flinch.