Cavanaugh nodded. "Sounds like they came from the ridge where the sniper was. But we're too far away for anybody to expect to hit us with a pistol from there. It doesn't make sense."
Jamie studied their surroundings. "We need better cover."
"Right. For all we know, there's still at least one shooter on this side of the canyon. Keep down," he told William and Mrs. Patterson. "Move back."
Deeper into the woods, they found a depression circled by trees and squirmed into it.
"Mrs. Patterson, face this way," Jamie said, watching the elderly woman take her small Ladysmith revolver from her apron. "Aim toward the trees."
"William, you face this way." Cavanaugh unholstered his pistol and gave it to the attorney. "Keep it pointed away from us. Don't pull the trigger unless I tell you."
Cavanaugh and Jamie sank low, every quadrant occupied.
"When I get out of this--" Emotion made William's voice thick. "--I'm going to take shooting lessons. Karate lessons. Every damned lesson I can find. I won't feel helpless like this again."
"I'll be glad to teach you," Cavanaugh said, trying to distract William from his fear. "Especially about Fairbairn."
"Fairbairn? Who's he ?"
"But here's your first lesson. Stop talking. We need to be quiet so we can listen if someone's sneaking up on us."
"Oh." William's face turned red with embarrassment. "Yes."
They waited and watched the forest. Cavanaugh's need to protect helped distract him from his rage. He wanted to get his hands on whoever had ordered the attack, to slam that person's head against a rock until bone cracked and--
No. Fantasies about revenge were a liability. Anger got in the way of clear thinking.
Concentrate on keeping everybody alive.
A minute passed. Cavanaugh's ears continued to ring because of the explosions and the shots he'd fired. He worked to filter out that sound, to listen beyond it, trying to detect any noise in the forest.
Ten minutes. Fifteen.
Sweat oozed from under his body armor. His back hurt from the force of the bullet that the armor had stopped. As he aimed toward the trees, his heart thumped against the ground.
There! A branch snapped deep in the trees. Cavanaugh steadied his rifle in that direction. Another branch snapped, and now Cavanaugh's finger slid onto the trigger.
He relaxed as an elk poked its head from the underbrush, its antlers blending with the dead branches of a tree behind it.
Maybe this is going to be all right , he thought. The elk wouldn't be wandering in this direction if somebody with a rifle is out there, creeping toward us.
Then another elk appeared, and Cavanaugh became more hopeful.
At once, the animals bolted, their hind legs kicking as they crashed through the forest. Somebody is out there. Cavanaugh again touched the trigger. But then he realized what had spooked the elk. Not somebody creeping among the trees.
A noise. Far away but getting louder. A high-pitched cluster of sirens. The police and the emergency crews were finally coming.
Cavanaugh studied the forest one more time and murmured to the group, "I think we're going to make it."
"Whatever pressure you put on me, I can take," William said.
"What?"
"I went to Harvard law school. Nothing's more brutal than that. I'm holding you to your promise to teach me. And while you're at it, who the hell is Fairbairn?"
"When this is over, I'll tell you." Taking refuge in his protector's role, Cavanaugh distracted William from present fears by projecting him into the future.
Chapter 2.
They stayed within the forest, moving southward along the edge of the smoldering meadow.
"You think the sniper might still be on that ridge?" William kept glancing in that direction.
"He might have risked staying, in case we get careless when help arrives. It's better if we don't step into the open."
When the sirens stopped, Cavanaugh turned toward the silence. Through a gap in the trees, he saw scattered, burning timbers: all that remained of the lodge. To subdue another burst of fury, he focused on movement within the smoke, relieved to see that five of his horses had survived. They gathered nervously near the one that had been killed. Sickened, he shifted his gaze toward the countless bullet holes in his car, its windows starred, some of them shattered. Thinking of Angelo's body inside it, he felt his fury intensify.
Immediately, the horses bolted as a highway patrol car, dark chassis, white roof, flashers on, emerged from the lane. Even at a distance, Cavanaugh detected the shock on the face of the uniformed driver when he saw the damage.
Then a forest-service fire truck emerged, and its occupants looked stunned, also.
They managed to move the van that was blocking the lane , Cavanaugh thought. A further idea struck him: Or maybe some of the gunmen drove it away.
With Jamie watching the trees behind them, he led William and Mrs. Patterson around the southern curve of the forest and only then stepped into the lane, the trees still shielding them from a sniper.
At almost the same time, a highway patrol car came around a curve, the driver slamming on his breaks at the sight of them.
"Set down your weapons," Jamie warned William and Mrs. Patterson as she and Cavanaugh put down their own.
"Let him see your hands are empty," Cavanaugh emphasized.
The state trooper, a captain, had his fingers on his holstered pistol as he got out of the car, but then he gave Cavanaugh a closer look. "Aaron?"
Cavanaugh had used his legal name when he'd bought his property. If an enemy who knew him only as Cavanaugh had hoped to track him down by searching through land records, the effort would have been useless.
"Nice to see you, Garth."
The trooper looked surprised. "My God, with all that soot and dirt on you, I didn't recognize you."
"We had a little trouble."
"So I hear. On the radio, the first officer to get here told me your place looks like a war zone."
Garth had a solid build from weight lifting. He was tall, with strong cheekbones and a dark mustache. He spent so much time outdoors that his face had the grain of weathered wood, his tan emphasized by the green of his uniform and trooper's hat. Like any expert police officer, his eyes were constantly alert, even off duty when he, Cavanaugh, and Jamie sometimes ate dinner together in Jackson.
Those eyes were very alert now. "Jamie, is that blood on your shoulder?"
"Yes, but it isn't mine."
Cavanaugh thought angrily of the blood spatters inside the Taurus after Angelo was shot.
"Lillian . . ." Garth frowned at Mrs. Patterson. "You're wavering. Come over to the car and sit down."
With an unsteady hand, she pushed gray hair from her face. Dirt streaked her apron. "Thanks, Garth. It's been a long afternoon."
"You'll find four dead men in the western edge of the meadow," Cavanaugh said.