to Flint’s pant leg. Maggie screamed. Flint fell back, rolling farther behind the truck as he fought to break free.
Maggie barely registered the crack and whine of a second shot. A side window of the truck shattered. She screamed again and covered her head as glass rained down. Wolfie released his captive and made a beeline for her.
The game warden recovered enough to sit, pulled out a cell phone and called for assistance before turning to Maggie. “Help is on its way.”
“Are you hurt? Did he bite through the skin?”
“Don’t worry about me. How are you?”
“Fine.”
“You don’t look fine.”
“I’m not used to being a target. Now I know how these poor wild animals must feel.”
As Flint slowly reached toward her, she told herself to move away. Her knees felt welded to the ground.
His warm, strong hand cupped her cheek as scattered drops of rain continued to fall. A thumb brushed away blood. It took her a moment to realize it was hers. She jerked back and patted her face.
“You’re not shot,” Flint said. “I think a sliver of glass may have nicked you.”
“Terrific.”
She sat back on her heels. Flint’s green gaze seemed almost tender. That fit. She’d always viewed him as a caring person, which was why his abandonment had shaken her so badly. Above all, she reasoned, she must keep reminding herself of his desertion.
“We’re about to get soaked,” she said flatly.
“Better wet than dead.” Flint was rubbing his lower leg. “I hope the shooter gave up and left. Thanks to your dog I couldn’t catch a hibernating turtle right now.”
“Serves you right.” A shiver skittered up her spine. “Do you think we’re still in danger? I figure they’re long gone.”
“You’re probably right. They’ve had plenty of time to sneak up on us and finish the job if they wanted to.”
“Oh, that’s comforting.”
“I’m not trying to be comforting,” Flint snapped back. “I’m trying to keep you alive.”
Survival. He was right about that. She patted her pockets. She’d forgotten to bring her cell phone. “How long before we have that help you promised?”
“I don’t know. We’re pretty far out in the country.”
“Then hand me your phone,” Maggie said. “I need to make a call and I left mine inside.” If it had been anyone but Flint, she would have added please.
She saw him hesitate.
“Okay, but keep it short. This is for official use only.”
“Would you rather I made a run for the house to get my own?”
“No. Here.”
Grabbing the phone before he changed his mind, she had to think hard to remember the number that was programmed into her own cell phone.
A tentative “Hello” was all the greeting she allowed before blurting, “Mom?”
“Maggie? I almost didn’t answer. This isn’t your number.”
“No. I’m using a borrowed phone.”
“What happened to yours?
“Never mind that. Please, just listen. I need you to pick up Mark from school and keep him at your place until you hear from me. I’ll explain everything later.”
“But—”
“Please, Mom? This is really important.”
“Okay, honey. But I’ll expect all the details when you come get him. And plan to stay for supper. Bye!”
Sure, assuming I’m able to get rid of my unwelcome visitor by then. Maggie’s fondest hope was that the shooter was attempting to scare the new game warden just on general principle. Given that this particular warden was Flint Crawford, she owed their anonymous assailant a debt of gratitude for trying.
Too bad it hadn’t worked.
* * *
Police and sheriff’s units arrived just ahead of an ambulance. Dressed for the heavier rain that was predicted, Sheriff Harlan Allgood leaned against the fender of the silver-gray Game and Fish truck and shook his head at Flint. “Sorry about this, son. Want me to help you over onto the porch where the medics are working on Maggie?”
“I won’t be welcome. I can hop in the ambulance if this drizzle gets much worse.”
“Suit yourself.” He chuckled. “I didn’t dream you’d run into trouble so soon. Who’d you manage to rile in a day and a half?”
“Beats me.” Flint pulled the leg of his pants up to his knee. “Everybody’s been pretty friendly so far.” He grimaced. “Except for Maggie and her dog.”
“Wolfie’s always been fine around me,” Harlan said. “What’d you do to set him off?”
“He was probably reacting to my knocking her down to keep her from getting shot.”
“I reckon she gave you what for.”
“Oh, yeah. She actually thought I was going to shoot her dog.” Flint peered into the woods. “Any of your people come up with the real shooter yet?”
“Nope, and I don’t expect ’em to. The ol’ boys around these parts are good at disappearin’.”
“Is this the first trouble Maggie’s had?”
“Why don’t you ask her?”
“Yeah, well, she and I aren’t exactly on the best of terms.”
“And that surprises you?” Harlan guffawed. “Folks around here still remember when you turned tail and skedaddled.”
Flint refused to let the old-timer goad him. The details of the past were nobody’s business but his and Maggie’s. And speaking of the past, if he hadn’t heard that both her brothers had left to establish successful careers in neighboring states, he might have blamed one of them.
“So, what are you going to do?” Flint asked.
“’Bout what?”
“Finding the shooter, to start with. And then protecting Maggie, just in case she’s a target, too.”
“Don’t know what any of us can do,” Harlan replied with a drawl. “I suppose I can have a deputy cruise by a time or two.”
“Well, somebody’d better keep a lookout. We could have been killed.”
