Lone Rider by Lindsay McKenna (19)

Chapter Nineteen

Harper pushed his quarter horse up a steep dirt-and-rock path. They’d just reached the top of the canyon. Socks was breathing hard, his fur wet, his mane, short, sticking to his neck as he powered his way upward, his hindquarters pumping hard like pistons. Right behind him was Reese on Ghost. They were both listening to the almost constant soft voice of Josh as he watched the video of his father bringing the drone within two thousand feet of where Tara and Elson were hiking.

Taking off his gloves, Harper jammed them down in his back pocket as Reese came alongside him on the top. Somewhere, two thousand feet above them, was the woman he loved. Would he get to her in time? His throat ached with so much tension it felt like a hard lump was stuck in it.

Reese also shed his gloves. He leaned down as the horses snorted and took off at a fast walk. “We’re about half a mile from them.”

“Yeah,” Harper managed, his voice ragged with worry.

Reese pulled out the .30-06 from the leather sheath, placed a round in the chamber, the safety off. “Let me go ahead. Elson is armed with a pistol and a rifle. And he’s carrying a knife. If something happens, I want you to focus on getting to Tara. I’ll take care of Elson.”

Grimly, Harper nodded. Reese had been a company commander. He’d led 120 Marines in Afghanistan on three yearlong deployments, often working with black-ops groups of SEALs and Delta Force as well as recon Marines. “You got it.” He automatically touched the Glock resting in a nylon holster on his thigh. Only a safety strap kept it in the holster, and it was locked and loaded, the safety off. “Good plan,” he said, urging Socks into a ground-eating trot.

“If we can intercept them,” Reese said, “we could save Tara from having to try to escape.”

“Sounds good.” Never had Harper wanted anything more than that. He loved Tara. God, how he wanted the chance to tell her that to her face. If only . . . if only he could—

“Tara escaped!” Josh shouted into their earpieces. “She’s dropped her ropes, turned and is heading directly for the river!”

Instantly, both cowboys laid their heels into their sweaty, hard-breathing mounts. Harper took the lead, Socks’ nose stretched out, nostrils flaring, ears back as he pushed the quarter horse to its limit. There was a long slope, peppered with pine trees, and Harper gripped his galloping horse with his legs, pushing him in that direction at top speed. They wove in and around pine trees, and as they thinned, Harper got his first sight of Cree Elson. He had tripped and fallen, the rope that had captured Tara earlier twisted around a small pine tree.

Jerking his head to the right, he spotted Tara, but it was too late. She’d jumped into the frigid waters of the river, disappearing. He hauled Socks to a halt, the horse nearly sitting down on his hindquarters, sliding to an abrupt stop. His gaze never left Tara as he watched her struggle against an unseen current.

“I’ll get Elson,” Reese yelled, galloping past him.

“I’m going down to the pool below,” Harper called, whipping Socks around. The horse spun easily, lifting his front legs and pivoting.

“She’s going to go over the falls!!” Josh cried.

Harper choked as he headed down the slope, Socks flying at top speed.

Above him, he heard Cree yelling Tara’s name. And then, he heard gunfire.

Torn for a split second, Harper had to let Reese handle the situation, no matter what happened. His gaze clung to the top of the falls. Three quarters of the way down the slope, heading Socks toward the pool below, he saw Tara being spit out by the river, shot out like a cannon at the top of the massive, roaring falls.

Her scream made him want to sob out her name. The wind whipped by him, the horse thundering in and around the pines, the air burning his eyes, making them water. He saw her pitched outward by the swift current, arms and legs flailing. To his relief, he saw her miss a jutting rock sticking out just below the falls by inches.

His whole life, his heart, his soul, focused on her righting herself, positioning her entry feetfirst into the pool below. Harper didn’t know how Tara did it, but she did. He pulled his horse to a halt, Socks skidding in the dried pine needles and grass near the bank of the pool. Leaping off, Harper watched as Tara plunged downward. The terror on her face tore at him.

Throwing off his hat, yanking off his boots and tearing the heavy vest off his upper body, as well as ridding himself of the holster, he dove into the quiet, lapping pool. Tara hit the water just as he dove in, the water feeling like a punch to his jaw, shockingly cold.

Tara disappeared instantly beneath the surface. Stroking out toward her, each length made by his long, corded arms, took him closer and closer to where she’d been. Harper kept up the hard, cutting splashes through the water. Where was she? Where? His heart shattered as he thought of her losing consciousness as she hit the water. If she had? She’d breathe in water and die.

Tara suddenly bobbed to the surface five feet away from him.

She was unconscious.

With a supreme effort, Harper lunged, grabbing her, sliding one arm beneath her left armpit and across her chest. He brought her against his shoulder, her head lolling to one side, her arms floating listlessly.

“Tara!” he gasped, turning on his back, kicking like hell, trying to get back to the shallower water. “Tara! Wake up! Wake up!” His voice was hoarse, terror-filled. He divided his attention between stroking outward with his right arm and how close he was coming to the shore. Looking up, he didn’t see Reese. He didn’t know what was going on up above the falls.

It was impossible to think. All he could do was feel. Tara was like sawdust, unresponsive, her face the color of white marble. He saw blood on her left temple, realizing that was the wound she’d sustained before going over the falls.

Suddenly, Tara jerked and began to cough violently. Her arms flew upward and she began to fight him.

“Tara, you’re okay,” he rasped, tightening his grip around her chest. “Stay still. I’ll get you to land in a second. . . .”

Harper heard her gagging. She vomited water, trying to listen to his orders but dazed, barely conscious.

His feet hit the sandy bottom. Instantly, Harper stood and then hauled Tara backward, wanting to get her out of the freezing water as swiftly as possible. By the time he’d dragged her out, getting her to lay on her side and stretch out, he saw her eyes were cloudy. She was stunned, in shock.

“Stay here,” he ordered her as he laid her out on the grassy bank, “I’m getting a blanket for you,” and he rose, quickly trotting to where Socks was ground tied. Untying the blanket roll behind his saddle with trembling, numb fingers, he yanked it off, racing back to Tara. She was sitting up, looking around, looking at him, confused.

“H-how?” she croaked as he knelt in front of her. Harper quickly got her out of her heavy, wet clothing, bringing the thick, wool blanket around her shoulders.

“Long story,” he rasped. “Are you all right, Tara? Look in my eyes,” and he peered intently into them. Her flesh was porcelain in color, eyes shocky-looking, and she was trembling badly, pulling the blanket around herself.

“I—I didn’t think I’d live,” she sobbed, giving him a terrified look.

“You did.” He pushed wet strands away from her face, cupping her jaw as he knelt there. “I love you, Tara. I love you . . .”

Huge tears welled up in her eyes as she stared up at him. “Oh,” she whimpered, “I never thought I’d get a chance to tell you the same thing. Oh, God . . .” and she broke down, weeping deeply, her knees drawn up against herself, burying her face against them, her sobs loud and hard.

Harper wanted so badly to hold her, care for her, but he worried about what was going on up above him. Had Reese captured Elson? Or had Cree shot his friend? He didn’t know and hadn’t heard anything over his earpiece from Reese. “Listen to me, Tara,” he whispered urgently, moving his hand against her tangled, wet hair, “I have to ride up above the falls. Reese is with me. He went after Elson while I came down here to rescue you. I don’t know what’s happened. You need to stay here.” He had shed the holster and dragged it over, laying it near her. “The Glock is locked and loaded. I’ve got to ride up above to find out what’s happened to Reese and whether he captured Elson. If you see Elson is loose, shoot to kill.”

Jerkily, she nodded, reaching for the holster and weapon. “O-okay . . . be careful, Harper. Please, be careful,” and she tried to stop her tears.

Harper smiled and kissed her cold lips swiftly. “I’ll be back. Don’t worry . . .”

Getting up, he hurriedly hauled on his cowboy boots over his wet socks. They didn’t want to go on, but brute force got them back on his feet. He made a leap into the saddle, grabbing Socks’ reins, whirling the horse around, sinking his heels into his flanks. As he rode, he pulled the .30-06 out of the sheath beneath the fender of the saddle beneath his leg. The quarter horse wove in and around the pines, climbing rapidly, sweat gleaming against his hide, foam on his neck from the brutal exertion being asked of him. A horse couldn’t run forever. They, too, needed a rest and recoup period. Harper knew he was asking everything of Socks. The valiant animal surged up the hill, his mane flying, his short tail raised up like a flag, flying.

As Harper crested the hill, he saw Reese down on the ground, leaning over Elson, who wasn’t moving. Nearby, Ghost was ground tied, his flanks heaving in and out. Pulling Socks to a stop, Harper did a flying dismount, running toward Reese, who had a grim look on his face. He kept the rifle ready, never trusting Cree.

“He’s dead,” Reese told him, looking up as he approached.

Relief wove through Harper as he halted a few feet from where Reese knelt next to the kidnapper. “What happened?”

“He pulled out a pistol and was shooting at Tara as she was being swept toward the falls. When he saw me, he turned and started firing at me.” Satisfaction wreathed his soft voice. “One shot. One kill.”

Harper knew they had snipers in Reese’s Marine company; that was a sniper term. And although he was sure Reese wasn’t one, his aim had been true. Elson lay on his back, his red hair around his face, hiding it. The blood on his chest told Harper everything. Reese had fired one round and it had hit the man in the heart.

Kneeling opposite Reese, he said, “Tara is going to be all right. She made it over the falls. She’s shaken, but she’s down by the pool. I put the bedroll blanket around her. She’s going to be okay.” He saw instant relief come to Reese’s face.

“Best news yet.” Reese slowly rose, the .30-06 rifle cradled in his left arm. “I’m going to call Sarah on the radio to let her know what’s happened.”

“I’m sure Josh is telling them, too; they must have caught all this on the drone’s camera,” Harper said, standing.

“Most likely. Still, they don’t need to bring anyone up here. We’ll put him over my saddle and I’ll ride behind him. You and Tara can ride down together on Socks.”

Tears suddenly stung Harper’s eyes and he blinked a couple of times. Tara was alive. She loved him. He loved her. His voice became gruff. “Yeah, sounds like a plan. Let me help you get Elson over the saddle. We’ll tie him on so he doesn’t slip off.”

* * *

Tara couldn’t get warm. Her cold, wet T-shirt and jeans stuck to her body. She anxiously watched the hill, not knowing who might show up on it sooner or later. Had they captured Cree? Was Reese okay?

She sat on the bank and couldn’t believe she was alive. She’d managed, somehow, to not break bones or kill herself when she went over the falls. Gripping the wiry wool blanket around her, she could feel the raw cuts, the smarting sensation slowly coming back to her icy, deeply bruised flesh.

The day was warm, the sky cloudless, the sun shining. Everything looked so peaceful, and yet she’d nearly died. Closing her eyes, Tara rested her head against her drawn-up knees, feeling grateful to be alive and yet so torn up over being kidnapped once again. Something had broken inside her when Cree had dragged her out of that wrecked car. The insane look in his eyes, the glee over capturing her once more. Her stomach revolted and she thought she was going to vomit.

Tara rolled to the right, vomiting up more water she’d swallowed earlier. She got to her hands and knees, the blanket warming her now. She wiped her mouth with a shaky hand, straightening, resting her butt against the soggy heels of her boots. Looking toward the hill once more, her heart thudded hard.

Harper!

Her gaze blurred for a moment as she watched him trotting a very wet, very weary Socks down that slope once again. Never had he looked so good to her, his back straight, riding bonelessly in the saddle, a part of the animal. He was so strong, so confident, and an incredible frisson of love blossomed powerfully through her as he turned Socks down into the pool area. His eyes never left hers. She saw he looked peaceful, tension no longer in his face or in his body. Dismounting, he walked to her and knelt down opposite her.

“Elson is dead,” he told her.

Blinking once, she stared at Harper. “What?” Had she heard right?

He reached out, grazing her jaw, now dry and feeling warmer. “Did you realize Cree found his pistol in his pack, got it out and was firing at you as you dived into the water?”

Shaking her head, she caught his hand, feeling his fingers gently wrap around hers. “N-no . . . I didn’t hear anything except the noise of the waterfall. I just ran.”

“I would have done the same thing.” He released her hand. Kneeling behind her, he eased Tara into his arms and she flowed against him. “Let me hold you for just a little while,” he murmured against her damp, tousled hair. She settled against him and he heard a sigh, ragged and long, expel from between her lips. Nestling her brow against his jaw, her hand against his chest, he enclosed her. Rocking her slightly, he rasped against her hair. “When Elson saw Reese gallop up and over the top of that slope, he turned and started firing at him. Reese had a .30-06 and he stood up in the stirrups and fired at Elson. Dropped him with one shot. Through the heart.”

Turning her face into his chest, she gave a little cry of relief. He held her tighter, keeping the blanket around her. “It’s going to be all right, Tara. It’s over. Really over.”

The words careened around in her head as she pressed her cheek against the rough, damp chambray of his shirt. Just hearing Harper’s heartbeat soothed some of the hysteria rising within her. She needed his strong, caring arms around her as never before. First, the tears came, hot, burning, salty and streaming down her cheeks, wetting the material beneath her cheek. And then, the sobs started, slow at first, feeling like battering rams being thrust up through the center of her body. Then they came tearing out of her mouth. Her whole body shook.

Harper held her tightly. He kept whispering soothing words to comfort her, even though she couldn’t make out anything he was saying over her sobbing. It didn’t matter because with his other hand, he grazed her hair, smoothed his palm across her tightened shoulders gently up and down the length of her back. It felt as if she was crying from the time she was sixteen years old, when Cree had first captured her. She’d been so young then, naïve, unworldly, immature. And then, not wanting to come home after she left at eighteen, afraid he’d come after her a second time. And he had. With a vengeance. And then the mortification of being caught and kidnapped again. It was just too much for Tara to process. All she could do was cry, sounding like an animal who’d gotten its paw caught in a trap, filled with pain, remorse and guilt, wanting to run away from all of it.

Finally, she ran out of tears. Hiccupping several times, trying to breathe evenly, she felt Harper loosen his embrace around her. His thighs were on either side of her hips, cocooning her, making her feel safe for the first time since this kidnapping had started. With trembling fingers, she tried to push the last of the tears off her damp cheeks.

“H-how did you find us? I gave up hope, Harper. I didn’t think anyone would ever find us.”

He continued to move his hand from her neck to her waist, the motion calming her. “We got lucky,” and he gave her the short version of Terry Larson and his son Josh, who had a drone-operating system and a high-powered lens on the camera that had found them.

Tara lay very still in his arms and absorbed him holding her, still not quite believing she was really safe. Harper and Reese had rescued her. They’d saved her life. Weakness stole through her limbs and she whispered, “I feel like a paper doll, ready to collapse.”

He kissed her temple. “You’ve been through hell, Tara. It’s enough to make anyone feel like that.” He eased some loose, damp strands of hair away from her wan cheek. “In a few minutes, Reese will be coming down with Elson’s body over the saddle of his horse. He was going to call Sarah, who was coordinating the search for you, to let her know what’s happened. You and I are going to ride Socks. I’ll help you get up and mount on him.”

“Poor horses,” she murmured, lifting her chin, looking at Socks, who was hanging his head from all the brutal physical demands. “He’s just as tired as we are.”

“He’ll get us down to the parking lot,” Harper promised. He was sure there was going to be hell to pay with Sarah. It was small penance for being able to get up here in time to save Tara’s life. Reese would make all the apologies she wanted, but in the end, he’d do it again the same way, no questions asked.

“God, I feel so sorry for Roberta, Cree’s mother.”

“I’m sure Sarah will send a deputy out to tell her in person. She can’t not expect it. The sheriff had gone to her house and asked if he was there and that’s when she found out he’d kidnapped you again.”

“It’s a sick family. He paid a horrible price.”

“Hey, don’t go feeling sorry for him. He tried to kill you, Tara. Forgive him if you want, but that bastard deserves no sympathy in my book.”

She nodded, feeling exhaustion stealing through her. “You’re right,” she mumbled, nuzzling into him.

“It’s over, Tara. It’s really over. Cree won’t be hanging around, following you and waiting to grab you a third time.”

Sighing, she muttered, “I know. . . . I just can’t believe it’s finally over. Really . . .”

He squeezed her and saw Reese slowly coming down the slope on Ghost. He had one hand on Elson’s back to keep him in the saddle and the reins in the other hand. Harper wouldn’t admit how wiped out he suddenly felt, knowing it was the adrenaline crash after the threat that had stalked them.

“Listen, when we get down to the parking lot? I’ll have Reese run interference for us about what we did. I want to check you over thoroughly, Tara. There’s an ambulance and two paramedics waiting down there if they’re needed.”

Making an unhappy sound, she said, “I’m fine, Harper. I don’t want to go to a hospital.” She held up one hand. “I’m scratched and bruised, that’s all. No broken bones. Okay?”

Harper chuckled. “Okay. I think you’d rather let me give you an examination than one of them?”

“Better believe it.”

Chuckling, he said, “I thought so.”

Reese pulled up. “How are you feeling, Tara?”

She roused herself and slowly sat up, repositioning herself so she could look at Reese. Just seeing Cree hanging dead over the saddle made her stomach roll with nausea. “I’m going to be okay, Reese. Thanks so much for coming to help me. I wouldn’t be alive if you two hadn’t shown up.” The thought was stunning to her, going so deep within her that she wanted to cry again.

“Well, you’re here with us in no small part due to your own efforts, Tara. We watched you on drone video getting your ropes unknotted so you could make a run for the river. You’re a gutsy warrior. You saved yourself.”

Weariness washed over her in waves. Tara managed a small, appreciative smile at Reese. “Like all military vets, we work as a team. The team saved me.”

Harper’s mouth curved. “Okay, I can settle for that, sweetheart. Feel like getting up and walking over to Socks? Or do you want me to carry you over and toss you into the saddle?” he teased.

“No . . . I can manage.”

Harper nodded, stood, then helped her up to her feet. He kept his hand on her elbow and made sure the blanket remained across her shoulders. To her chagrin, her knees were so wobbly, she found she couldn’t even slide her boot into the stirrup to mount.

“Let me help you,” Harper urged.

Before she could protest, he’d lifted her easily into the saddle, as if she weighed nothing. He wasn’t a bulked-up, muscled man, rather lean and wiry, but he was strong. It felt good to curve her legs around Socks. Even little things like that were important. She’d get to ride again. She’d get to photograph things she loved to shoot. Most of all, Harper would be with her. Always.