"Mister, we are so damned grateful I can't tell you!"
Matt sat up. The miner had crawled away and was sitting near a cactus, cradling his claw hammer. Matt waved, "Sorry about that, mister."
"It wasn't my fault," the man said. A crafty look crossed his pocked features. "That evil Dark Man did it, pushed her down there. He does all kinds of bad shit."
Matt Cahill felt a chill in his bones. Mr. Dark? Here?
Before he could ask any questions, the two teens started screaming and waving. Someone was coming from the highway. Their father at long last. He was driving a battered white police cruiser.
It said Dry Wells Sheriff on the side…