The horse slowed to a trot as Tre looked for a good place to pause. An old house loomed black on black off to the left. He pulled the horse around and rode that way. There were trees on both sides of the driveway. A bird, possibly an owl, took flight, and the sudden flutter of wings caused his heart to jump up into his throat.
Then, as they rounded the house, Tree pulled back on the reins. “Jump down,” he instructed.
Lora felt a stab of fear. There she was, all by herself, and nearly naked. What did the man have in mind? She slid to the ground, brought the pistol up, and was pointing it at him as he dismounted. The moonlight was on his face, and she could see the man’s smile as he removed the duster. “Here,” he said. “Put this on. We have a long way to go and you’ll freeze if you don’t.”
Lora accepted the coat and slipped it on. The garment was at least two sizes too big. She had to roll up the sleeves, and the bottom of it went all the way down to her ankles. It was scratchy, but the additional warmth was welcome. “My name is Tre,” the man said. “And you are?”
“Lora.”
“Well, Lora, I look forward to hearing your story, but that will have to wait. Here,” he said as he handed her a fistful of .45 cartridges. “Reload that six-shooter and keep it handy.”
A flurry of shots sounded in the distance, and both of them turned in that direction. “Let’s mount up,” Tre said. “We need to put more distance between us and the highway.”
The horse was overloaded, so Tre knew he couldn’t push the animal too hard. He alternated between a walk and a trot as the moon went down and the sky began to lighten in the east. Navigation was easy. All he had to do was stay close to the rolling hills on the west side of the valley and follow them north. He tried the radio twice, but there was no response. Either the rest of the bandits were too busy to answer or they were out of range.
Rather than ride into Freedom and what might be a trap, Tre chose to guide the horse up over a softly rounded hill. Once they were on the other side, he told Lora to get down, did likewise, and tied the horse to some scrub. Then, careful to stay low, he made his way up to the top of the rise, where he plopped down on his stomach.
As the sun rose above the eastern mountains, rays of light speared down into the valley. Tre brought the glasses to bear and scanned from left to right. Everything looked fine at first. A bit of ground mist still clung to the neatly organized farms, dairy cattle could be seen grazing in the surrounding fields, and slaves were headed out to bring them in.
But as Tre panned right, he saw what looked like a column of ants. And as they rode north on Highway 89, small groups turned left and right. The search was on, and three mercs were riding straight at him. “Can I look?”
Tre turned to look at Lora. She was right next to him. And now, in the light of day, he realized how pretty she was. Pretty and something else… Something he didn’t have words for. Whatever it was made him feel protective and awkward at the same time. Some of that must have been visible on his face, because she frowned. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Tre said, and gave her the glasses. “Look straight ahead. Some of them are coming our way. We have two choices. We can ambush them or run. If we fight they could win. If we run they could catch us. Especially since we’re riding double and our horse is tired. Cast your vote.”
Lora glanced at him and then looked through the binoculars again. “They’ll catch us if we run. So let’s fight.”
Tre admired her clarity. The riders were closer now, and he didn’t need binoculars to see them. “I agree,” he said. “So here’s the plan… Take my hat, get on the horse, and wait for them to break the skyline. When they do, ride like hell. I’ll hide in the pile of rocks downslope from us. As the mercs go by, I’ll shoot them. With any luck, we’ll pick up a horse. If I fall, don’t come back. Keep riding.”
As Lora looked at him, Tre couldn’t help but notice her brown eyes. They were big and filled with intelligence—and something more. Something he had never seen before. “Be careful,” she said, and took his hat.
Then, before Tre could answer, she was gone. The duster flapped, nearly tripped her, and billowed as she mounted the horse. Then it was time for Tre to seek cover. He scooted back from the edge, stood, and ran downhill.
As Tre hurried to conceal himself behind the cluster of weather-smoothed boulders he hoped that whatever snakes lived in among them were late risers. Three round bursts, he thought. Hit the leaders first and work your way back.
Tre heard a shout as the riders topped the rise and saw Lora below. She turned, looked, and kicked the horse into motion. That produced a flurry of shots from the mercs, some of which kicked up geysers of dirt around her.
There were more shouts as the mercs came streaming down the slope. At that point all their attention was on Lora, so none of them were looking in Tre’s direction when he opened fire. The first burst was on target, and he had the satisfaction of seeing the lead merc thrown out of the saddle. But there was no time in which to savor the victory. The others were turning toward him by then. As they fired, a bullet hit the rock to Tre’s left and a rock chip stung his cheek.
Tre fired in return, saw the rider on the left tumble backward, and knew the third man was closing fast. So he was swinging right, trying to acquire the new target, when Lora charged in from the right. She was shouting to distract the merc and holding her pistol straight out in front of her. It fired three times, and at least one of the slugs hit the target, because he fell forward along his horse’s neck and seemed to rest there for a moment before slumping to the ground.
Lora, who was clearly a practiced rider, caught up with the dead man’s horse and brought it under control. Tre hurried out to take the reins as Lora went after the other mounts. One of them got away, but she returned with a handsome-looking mare. “Nice work,” Tre said admiringly. “Let’s collect what we want and get out of here.”
It took five minutes to scavenge the mercs’ ammo, water, and food. Lora showed no interest in any of their clothes but took a pistol rig, which she wore bandolier-style. The second .45 went into a spacious pocket. Tre chose a rifle for her, which went into the scabbard under her left leg. Then, with both of them on newly acquired mounts, they led Tre’s horse north.
The area was home to spindly pine trees mixed with low-growing shrubs, some of which were turning gold as winter neared. There were fast-flowing brooks and streams too, but none the horses couldn’t cross, and Lora gloried in being free again. So much had happened in a short time. The fight with Mr. Oliver, followed by the escape from the hole, and this. Now she had a horse. Not to mention an arsenal of weapons. So she could leave whenever she wanted and Tre wouldn’t try to stop her. She knew that somehow. But more important, Lora knew she had no desire to part company with him. Not yet anyway.
So they rode in companionable silence until they came to Highway 34, where Tre told her about his home off to the west, a hideout he called the Tangle, a place where they could rest, wait for the hunt to die down, and decide what to do next. That sounded good. So they set off, constantly on the lookout for mercs and bandits, who would like nothing better than to nab a woman, three horses, and a small fortune in weapons.
Fortunately, luck was with them. A heavily guarded mule train passed them going the other way shortly after noon, and they passed a man and a woman pulling a cart uphill an hour later, but that was all. So thanks to the horses, a trip that typically took Tre at least a day and a half was completed before sundown. And that was good because he didn’t want to enter the Tangle after dark if he could avoid it. Odds were that the place was just as he had left it, but assumptions could be fatal.