nose into the wind, and pressed her knees into his sides. “Let’s go,” she urged, and the gelding sprang forward, kicking up dirt as his strides lengthened. They sped through the open gate and across a dry field before heading into the vast acres owned by the government.
“Becca!” she cried as the cold wind tore at her face and tugged at the strands of hair escaping from her ponytail.
“Becca!” The flashlight’s beam bobbed as she swept it over the landscape with her right hand while holding the reins with her left. Barkley, swift on his three legs, tongue hanging out, raced earnestly beside the fleet horse.
Thane was right behind her, his pinto galloping stride for stride with Sandman, the beam from Thane’s flashlight wobbling over the clumps of weeds, grass, and dead wildflowers covering the ground.
Straining to listen, hearing nothing other than the horses’ labored breathing and the thunder of their hooves, Maggie wondered how they would ever find her daughter. The hills in this part of Idaho were steep craggy bluffs and precipices that dropped off to chasms as opaque as midnight.
Don’t give up, she told herself. Becca’s a smart girl. Even if she’s hurt, she’ll use her head. Unless she’s unconscious.
Or worse.
No! No! No! Fright was the ghost in the saddle with her, but she denied her worst fears, pushed aside the horrible, bloody scenarios that played at the edges of her brain, threatening to paralyze her. Please, God, keep Becca safe. Protect her. She’s just a baby. My baby.
“Becca!” she screamed again, her fingers clutching the reins. “Becca! Can you hear me?” Answer, baby, please just answer me. The ravine for the creek, a dark winding chasm, split the moon-silvered fields and loomed ahead. Pressing her knees against the buckskin’s sides, Maggie leaned lower, urging Sandman ever forward. Anxious to run, he grabbed the bit in his teeth and flew over the land. She sensed his strides quickening, lengthening.
Ducking her head close to his neck, she felt him launch. They sailed over the dry gravel and shallow stream that sliced through these dusty acres.
With a jolt that jarred her bones, the horse landed. He missed a stride, grunted as he scrambled up the bank, then recovered and took off, speeding Maggie toward the dark foothills, where stands of pine and larch clustered like lonely, cold sentinels defending the hillside.
The shepherd, his coat slick with water, lagged behind.
“Careful!” Thane yelled, his voice close as she shined her light on the deer trail that switched back and forth through the thickets.
“Always,” she muttered under her breath. The last thing she was concerned about was her own well-being, but the buckskin slowed of his own accord, picking his way along the path as Maggie swung the flashlight over his head, sending a solitary beacon up the hill, the thin stream of light weakly illuminating the underbrush and tree trunks.
“Becca!” she yelled, then whispered, “Please, please, please, be okay.”
“Becca!” Thane’s voice boomed through the hills, and for a second Maggie was grateful for his strength, for the fact that she wasn’t alone, that there was someone upon whom she could lean.
Never, Maggie! You can never rely on this man, never trust him! Remember what he did to you—to Mary Theresa and, for God’s sake, remember why he’s here! Because he’s in trouble. Somehow he’s involved in Mary Theresa’s disappearance. Her heart ached again, her head reverberated with trepidation. Right now she couldn’t worry about Thane, could only use him for the help he gave. After they found Becca…if they found her…No! When they found her daughter, then Maggie would deal with Thane.
Her horse was sweating now, fighting gamely up the path as the flashlight’s beam began to dim. Maggie yelled until she was hoarse, hollering at the top of her lungs, refusing to give in to the mind-numbing fear that she would never see her daughter again. Dark mountains spired around her, deep canyons gaped on either side of the ridgeline trail.
In her mind’s eye Maggie saw her daughter again for the first time, red-faced and screaming as she was being brought into the world, then another mental image of Becca’s second birthday party, where the guest of honor had delightedly placed both chubby hands in the middle of her cake while Mary Theresa had laughed and flirted outrageously with Dean…
“Mom! Over here!” The voice was faint.
“Becca!” Maggie pulled up short, her heart pounding, tears of relief filling her eyes as she stood in the stirrups and swung her flashlight as high as possible, creating the largest arc over the greatest area. “Where are you?” Damn, but she couldn’t see a thing!
“Mom! Help me.”
Thane drew up beside her, his eyes narrowed against the darkness. He aimed his beam into the underbrush.
“Becca. I can’t see you—” Maggie yelled.
“Here, by the stump—”
Pinpointing the sound, Thane shined his light on the jagged remains of what had once been a pine tree twenty yards off the trail. Lightning had shorn the tree, leaving only a ragged, blackened stump. Propped against the scorched bark was Becca, her face white and drawn, her dark hair falling over her eyes, one hand raised and waving to get Maggie’s attention.
Heart in her throat, relief and adrenaline flowing through her blood, Maggie scrambled off her horse and ran the short distance over the uneven ground on legs that threatened to give way. “Oh, my God, Becca what happened? Are you hurt?” At Becca’s side, she fell to her knees, thankful that her baby was alive.
“Damned Jasper threw me.” Becca’s eyes were dark. Angry. Her eyebrows pulled into a single furious line. But beneath the fury there was a hint of terror, and the tracks of tears that ran down her cheeks belied her true emotions. Her teeth chattered and she shivered. “He spooked for no reason. No damned reason at all.”
“Are you all right?” Maggie asked, seeing the scrapes and smudges on Becca’s cheeks and elbows. Thane, still holding the flashlight so that its beam illuminated the area surrounding Becca, edged his horse closer.
“Yeah…Nah…it’s…it’s my ankle.”
“Let me see.” Gently Maggie removed Becca’s boot and her daughter, after giving out one squeal of pain, bit her lip. A knot swelled above Becca’s right foot.
“I don’t know what happened to Jasper,” Becca grumbled ungraciously. “I hope he’s lost for good, and the coyotes eat him.”
“Too bad,” Maggie said with a half smile. “He already made it back.”
“Figures,” Becca sniffed, angry at the horse, her mother, and the world in general. “If I were you, I’d sell him for dog food.”
“I’ll consider it,” Maggie agreed, though she had no intention of doing anything of the kind. She just wasn’t in the mood for another argument, and Becca seemed more angry than hurt. Thank God.
“Who’s he?” Becca asked, holding her arm over her eyes, shading her brow as she wrinkled her nose and stared up at Thane, who was dismounting and reaching into the saddlebag.
“He’s—” How could she explain? And why? “He’s a friend,” she said,
