horse at a flat-out gallop through an open field, with the wind in her face and the sun on her back.
J.J. watched the horse and rider hit the meadow and go thundering toward the barn, two almost identical ponytails streaming like flags in the wind, and felt like throwing his hat to the ground in frustration. How, he wondered, had he managed to botch things so badly? He couldn’t have imagined a worse outcome.
A moment later, he wished he could have, because a worse outcome is what he got. His sweet little brown mare lifted up her head, uttered a heart-stopping whinny and took off after her friend, the appaloosa.
So much for ground-tying, J.J. thought. And then, as Moonshine lurched to her feet and went loping up the slope in pursuit of the horses.
He took off his hat, whacked it against his pants leg a time or two, then put it back on and began to make his way through the pines, swearing bitterly at himself. When he got to the meadow, Moonshine came trotting through the grass to meet him. The dog sat down on her haunches and gave him a long, doleful stare, panting hard, tongue lolling.
“Don’t start with me,” J.J. warned.
As he watched the two horses and one rider rapidly vanish into the distance at a pace faster than he ever wanted to go on the back of a living creature, he considered he was probably better off walking home.
“Man, I’m sorry,” Sage said.
He was in the barn, brushing down the brown horse, Misty, when J.J. got there. Out in the pasture he could see the appaloosa, already placidly grazing. Misty turned her head to look at him with big brown innocent eyes as if to say, “Hey, buddy, what happened to you?” But J.J. wasn’t fooled.
He leaned against a stall and folded his arms across his chest. “Yeah, I’m sorry, too.”
Sage threw him a look. “It’s her place, you’re her guest. If she wants you to go…” He shrugged and went back to brushing.
J.J. coughed, straightened up. “You know, it’s gonna have to be up to you, now, to keep her safe.” Sage nodded. “I mean, I’ll do my best to get back here as quick as I can, but…” His plan was to get some backup, some legal authority to hold Rachel, or at least keep her in his protective custody until they could find out what she knew about the shooting. Or until they got enough on Carlos to put him away without her help. Meanwhile… “You got any guns?”
“Couple deer rifles,” Sage said. “A shotgun.”
“These guys will have automatic weapons,” J.J. said.
The house was silent. Entering through the front door, J.J. could see across the courtyard to the veranda, where Rachel sat in the rocker nursing Sean. Since he was pretty sure there was nothing to be gained by another encounter with her, he went through the living room and dining room and into the kitchen, where he found Josie at the sink, stemming a bowlful of strawberries. She glanced up, and he thought he caught the shine of tears in her eyes.
“Sheriff J.J., I’m so sorry,” she began.
“Yeah, me, too,” he said, cutting her off. “I’ll be out of your way, soon as I can. Listen-is there any place in this house you could hide, if you had to?” Josie turned to look fully at him, the back of one hand, the one holding a paring knife, pressed to her nose. “You know-like a basement, or a safe room…”
She hesitated, then nodded and pointed the knife at the ceiling. “In the chapel-down at the other end of the house. There’s a secret door. It goes up to the bell tower. It’s Sam’s-it was Mr. Malone’s private place. The only way to get to it is stairs.” She twirled the knife to create a picture of a circular staircase.
“That’ll do,” J.J. said. “Listen-I want you to promise me, okay? If you see any sign of Carlos or his goons, I want you to get Rachel and the baby to that room. Get them up there, barricade the door and call 911. Don’t go out or open it for anyone until help arrives. Got it?”
Josie nodded and whispered, “Got it.”
He left her standing there looking after him and went down the corridor to his room. He took his duffel bag out of the closet and threw his clothes into it, dumped his traveling toiletry case on top of the clothes and zipped the bag shut. Then he got his service Glock and holster out of the drawer in the nightstand and laid it on the bed. He took out the magazine, checked it, put it back. Did the same with his backup Glock, then put it back in its holster where he always wore it, strapped to his right ankle.
He walked slowly to the French doors and looked out. Rachel was still there, rocking her baby. The way she was sitting he couldn’t see her face, and she wouldn’t know he was there unless he opened the doors or called to her. Which there wasn’t much point in doing. She’d made her feelings plain enough.
For the best, he told himself, ignoring the dull ache in his chest.
He went back to the bed, picked up his duffel bag in one hand and his service pistol in the other and left the house by the same route as he’d entered. Josie, he noticed, was nowhere to be seen.
Outside in the shaded parking area in front of the six-car garage, he opened the door of his pickup and called to Moonshine. When he told her to get in the truck, she looked at him like he’d lost his mind, so he boosted her up by her hind end, tossed the duffel bag in after her and shut the back door. He got into the front, placed the Glock and its holster on the passenger seat, started up the engine and rolled away down the drive.
At the T intersection, he kept going straight, and when he pulled up to the big barn, Sage came strolling out to meet him, the border collie at his heels. J.J. waited for him to come close, then rolled down his window and handed him the Glock.
“You ever fire one of these?” he asked.
“I have not,” Sage said. J.J. showed him how to chamber a round and set the safety. “Keep it on you,” he said, looking the other man square in the eyes. “Don’t put it in a drawer or hang it on a nail. Put the holster on and wear it.”
“Will do,” Sage said.
“Goes in the small of your back,” J.J. said.
“Got it.”
J.J. nodded. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Meanwhile…keep her safe.”
Sage nodded. J.J. rolled the window up and drove around in a circle and headed back down the dirt lane.
He was about halfway down the mountain when he saw the chopper go by overhead. He stomped on the brake, rolled down the window and stuck his head out, watching the chopper make its way up the canyon toward the hacienda.
Black chopper, no markings. He could think of only one person it could be.
He swore, hit the steering wheel with the heel of his hand. Started up the truck. What the hell was he going to do? Couldn’t turn around-boulders the size of SUVs on both sides of the road. He had no choice but to keep going until he found a place where he could turn around, and in the meantime…
Careening down the rutted dirt road, steering one-handed, he managed to punch in 911 on his cell phone.
“What is the nature of your emergency?”
“This is San Bernardino County Sheriff’s Deputy J. J. Fox, requesting immediate assistance.”
“I’m sorry, did you say-”
“Listen carefully, and don’t interrupt,” J.J. yelled into the phone. “I have a code-oh, hell, let me make this easy for you. I have a possible kidnapping in progress, June Canyon Ranch, off Highway 178. Multiple suspects, all armed and dangerous. Need immediate assistance. This is an emergency. If you have a S.W.A.T. team and a chopper, suggest you get ’em in the air-
“Sir, if you’ll just stay on the line-”
“Can’t do that. Just get me some help. That’s June Canyon Ranch-don’t have an address, but it belongs to Sierra Sam Malone. Gotta go.” He dropped the cell phone into the center console and took hold of the wheel with both hands. Sent up a prayer and yanked it to the right, steering into a relatively clear patch of sand. Backed up into
