her balance.
Aramis reared. Tracie planted her feet hard in the stirrups and leaned forward, holding on until the gelding dropped to all four hooves.
More gunfire ensued, followed by the pounding of hooves, the sound growing louder as it neared them.
Tracie yelled, “Go, Jacie. Get out of the canyon!”
Jacie didn’t hesitate, nor did her horse. She dug her heals into D’Artagnan’s flanks, sending him flying along the trail. She headed back the way they’d come, her horse skimming over the rocky ground, his head stretched forward, nostrils flared.
Before they’d gone a hundred yards, Rocky, the gelding Mr. Jones had been riding, raced past them, eyes wide, sweat lathered on both sides, sporting an empty saddle, no Mr. Jones. Rocky hit the trailhead leading out of the canyon, scrambling up the slope.
Jacie dared to glance over her shoulder.
Mr. Smith emerged from the fork in the canyon trail, yelling at Ginger, kicking her hard. Both leaned forward, racing for their lives.
The distinct sound of revving motors chased the horse and rider through the narrow passage. An ATV roared into the open, followed by another, then another until four ATVs spread out, chasing Mr. Smith, Tracie and Jacie.
Jacie reached the trail climbing out of the canyon first, urging D’Artagnan faster. He stumbled, regained his footing and charged on.
Tracie wasn’t far behind, her horse equally determined to make it out of the canyon alive and ahead of the ATVs.
Mr. Smith brought up the rear on Ginger.
As Jacie reached the top of the slope, she turned back, praying for Tracie to hurry.
Her sister had dropped behind, Aramis slipping in the loose rocks and gravel, distressed by the noise behind him. Just when Jacie thought the two were going to make it, shots rang out from the base of the canyon.
One of the ATVs had stopped, its rider aiming what appeared to be a high-powered rifle with a scope up at the riders on the trail.
Another shot rang out and Mr. Smith jerked in his saddle and fell off backward, sliding down the hill on his back.
His mount screamed and surged up the narrow trail past Tracie and Aramis.
Three of the ATVs raced up the path, bumping and slipping over the loose rocks.
From her vantage point at the top of the ridge, Jacie stood helpless as the horror unfolded.
Aramis reared, dumping Tracie off his back. She hit the ground and rolled, sliding down the slope back toward the base of the canyon.
Jacie yanked her rifle from its scabbard, slid out of her saddle and dropped to a kneeling position, aiming at the man at the base of the canyon.
The man was aiming at her.
Jacie held her breath, lined up the sights and pulled the trigger a second before he fired his gun.
His bullet hit the ground at her feet, kicking up dirt into her eyes.
For a second she couldn’t see, but when her vision cleared, she saw the man she’d aimed for lay on the ground beside his ATV, struggling to get up.
One down, three to go.
Ginger topped the rise, followed by Aramis, spooking D’Artagnan. He pulled against the reins Jacie held on to tightly. She didn’t let go, but she couldn’t get another round off while he jerked her around.
When he settled, she aimed at the closest rider to her. He was halfway up the hill, headed straight for her.
She popped off a round, nicked him in the shoulder, sending him flying off the vehicle. The ATV slipped over the edge of the trail and tumbled to the bottom.
The other two riders were on their way up the hill. One split off and headed back down the side, straight for where Tracie lay sprawled against the slope, low crawling for her Glock that had slipped loose of its holster. The other rider raced toward Jacie.
Jacie aimed at the man headed for Tracie.
D’Artagnan pulled against the reins, sending Jacie’s bullet flying wide of its target.
She didn’t have time to adjust her aim for the rider nearing the top of the hill. He was too close and coming too fast.
Jacie let go of D’Artagnan’s reins, flipped her rifle around and swung just as the rider topped the hill. She caught him in the chest with all the force of her swing and his upward movement. Jacie reeled backward landing hard on her butt, the wind knocked out of her.
The rider flew off the back of the vehicle and tumbled over the ridge.
Jacie scrambled to the edge and watched as the rider cartwheeled down the steep slope, over and over until he came to a crumpled stop, midway down.
The last rider standing had reached Tracie before she could get to her gun. He gathered her in his arms and stuck a pistol to her head. “Pare o dispararé a mujer!”
Even if she couldn’t understand his demand, Jacie got the message. If she didn’t stop, he’d shoot her sister.
Two more ATVs arrived on the canyon floor.
Jacie had no choice. She didn’t want to leave her sister in the hands of the thugs below, but she couldn’t fight them when they held the trump card—her sister.
She eased away from the edge of the ridge and scoped her options.
D’Artagnan and the other horses were long gone, headed back to the safety of the Big Elk Ranch barn.
The ATV she’d knocked the rider off stood near the edge of the ridge. If she hoped to escape, she had to make a run for it.
Jacie ducked low and ran for the ATV, jumped onto the seat, pulled the crank cord and held her breath.
The two new ATV riders were on their way up the hill. The man holding Tracie fired off a shot, but his pistol’s range wasn’t good enough to be accurate at that distance.
The ATV engine turned over and died.
Jacie pulled the cord again and the engine roared to life. She gave the vehicle gas and leaped forward, speeding toward the closest help she could find. The Raging Bull Ranch.
She had a good head start on the other two, but they didn’t have to know where they were going; they only had to follow.
Jacie ripped the throttle wide open, bouncing hard over obstacles she could barely see in the failing light.
The sun had completely dipped below the horizon, the gray of dusk slipping over the land like a shroud. Until all the stars twinkled to life, Jacie could only hope she was headed in the right direction.
After thirty minutes of full-out racing across cactus, dodging clumps of saw palmetto, lights appeared ahead. Her heartbeat fluttered and tears threatened to blind her as she skidded up to a gate. She flung herself off the bike and
