well hidden in the scree, lying prone on his belly. He kept his ruck beside him. His heartbeat slowed even more. His first target would be the rider who had Madison Duncan’s horse in tow. Watching the Taliban spread out more, he smiled a little. These would be one-thousand-yard shots, easy enough to accomplish with the Win Mag. Travis set the dials on the rifle and settled in. There was a point where a person’s breath stopped. It was called the still point, a magical half second lull between the inhale and the exhale. And that was the point where a sniper would shoot.
His finger brushed the trigger. The boom of the rifle jerked and rippled all the way through his body. He didn’t even wait to see if the bullet hit his target, moving to the second and third horsemen. By the time he released the spent mag and slapped in the next one, Travis was settled and situated. He was minimally aware of men flying off their horses. He couldn’t hear anything at this distance, but he saw one horse rear up and then turn to gallop off. Quickly, he sighted on the other two soldiers who were now looking around, fear etched in their faces.
Too late, you bastards. You’re going straight to hell.... And he took the fourth and fifth shots.
Travis leaped to his feet, leaving his rifle behind, jerking the 9 mm Sig Sauer pistol out of his drop holster and hurtled down the scree. Below, five men lay unmoving. The horses, thank God, startled and upset, had moved together, circling one another, wild-eyed. He hit the flat plain and ran hard toward the milling group of anxious horses. He kept his eyes on Madison Duncan who was sitting very still on her horse. She was doing the right thing, Travis thought, pulling up his Sig as he approached the carnage.
His gaze moved swiftly to each of the soldiers. None of them moved. He crooned softly to the horses, walking slowly toward them. The animals milled, snorting, their ears moving back and forth in fear. Okay, the soldiers were all dead. He holstered his pistol and approached to within six feet of the first horse.
“Ma’am?” he called, “I’m Travis Cooper, U.S. Navy. I’m here to rescue you. If you can just sit very still until I can get my hands on the reins of the horse, that would be helpful. Don’t talk. Don’t move. Just slowly nod your head once if you understand me.”
Madison quivered violently, unable to see anything. The soldiers had put the hood back on her head but they hadn’t gagged her. Sweat had covered her as she’d heard men screaming, then nothing. The horses had become frightened. When she’d first heard the loud, booming sound, she knew it was a rifle, but she couldn’t see anything! The man’s Texas drawl brought down her fear just a notch. Her shoulders were still numb. She slowly moved her head forward as he’d requested.
The horse she rode snorted. She could feel the animal tense. Oh, God. Who was this man? Definitely American. Her mouth was dry and she wanted to see him.
Madison sat quietly. She heard his voice again, a soft sing-song as he came closer. Her horse snorted and moved sideways.
“Easy, easy, son,” Travis crooned, not meeting the horse’s eyes, knowing that would threaten him. He approached the horse from the side and slowly eased his hand toward the animal’s sweaty, glistening neck. The horses had been ridden hard and ruthlessly. Their nostrils were wide open, showing red up inside the passages. Travis placed his hand on the horse’s reins, relief shooting through him.
“Ma’am? I’ve got the lead horse’s reins. Now, you just keep sitting quietly, and I’m going to work my way back toward your horse. The reins of your horse are tied on the back of this horse’s saddle. Just slowly nod your head if you understand me.”
Travis moved furtively, constantly crooning to her horse whose eyes were rolling. The animal was skittish, and the last thing Travis needed was for it to bolt. The horse’s nostrils flared, picking up his scent. Travis didn’t smell like the other riders. The horse suddenly planted its front feet, getting ready to bolt.
“Whoa, big guy,” he called to the horse. “No need to bolt, son, just stand down, stand down.” He eased the knot out of the reins. More relief rushed through Travis as he gripped the reins in his left hand.
“Okay,” he told her, “I’ve got your horse’s reins. I’m going to come up beside you and cut off that belly rope.”
He heard her gasp a little. Travis could see her shaking in the saddle. Feeling sorry for the woman, he pulled his KA-BAR from its sheath and quickly sliced the thick rope. Her legs were now free. He slid the knife back into the sheath.
“We’re almost home free, gal,” he told her softly. “I’ve got the horse’s reins in my one hand. I’m going to come up on your left side and slide my arm around your waist. When I do that, I want you to relax, trust me and I’m going to pull you off this horse. Got it?” He looked upward, watched her nod. Heard her erratic breathing.
As he slid his arm around her waist, Travis felt her relax. “Okay, here we go,” he said and then lifted her away from the saddle. She was probably five foot seven and weighed around a hundred and thirty pounds.
Madison groaned and clenched her teeth as he hauled her off the horse. Pain and burning shot through her shoulders. He was strong and tall, that much she could tell. And then she picked up his scent, a combination of sweat and his own unique maleness. Her feet touched the ground and she gave a soft cry as her legs gave way.
Travis gently guided her to sit on the earth. He released the horse and focused on the woman. Taking off the hood, he saw her blond hair was mussed and her blue eyes were filled with pain. Quickly, he moved behind her, unknotting the bonds and releasing her wrists.
“You’re safe,” he rasped, carefully pulling the ropes free. He scowled. Her wrists looked like hamburger; her fingers were covered in dried blood. Rage flowed through him over what they’d done to her. He knelt in front of her.
“Madison Duncan?” he asked, holding her terrified blue gaze.
“Y-yes....” She tried to move her arms, grimacing as she did so.
“Travis Cooper, ma’am.” He kept a hand on her shoulder. “Where are you hurt?”
Madison struggled to speak. “I’m...thirsty....”
He pulled a bottle of water out of a cammie pocket, opened it and handed it to her. “Here you go. Drink your fill.” Well, it wasn’t going to happen. Huge tears formed in her eyes as she tried to move her hands.
“I—I can’t,” she managed. “M-my arms are numb. I can’t feel anything.”
Travis slid his arm around her shoulders. “It’s all right,” he said soothingly. And he placed the lip of the bottle against her mouth. Damn, but she was twenty times better looking than the grainy color passport photo he’d seen of her on his laptop. Her hair was long and slightly wavy, halfway down her back, with streaks of darker blond, cream and more gold colors.
She drank, the water spilling out the corners of her mouth, dribbling down on the dirty tank top she wore.
“Slow down, gal. There’s more where that came from.” He held her eyes, giving her a slight smile meant to help her relax.
Travis kept his hearing keyed. The five booms from a Win Mag would be instantly recognized and any Taliban in the area would know it was an American sniper. The dawn was barely upon them. The sky was indigo and a few stars still blinked above. She finished off the bottle of water.
“Good,” he told her, throwing it away. “Now, talk to me. Where are you hurt?” He prayed like hell she hadn’t been raped. The
