CHAPTER 1
Bethany had never been afraid of being
alone, not on the trail and not when hauling her horses
around the nation. She wasn’t fearless; in fact, she was
cautious about traveling alone. She just used common sense
and refused to be afraid of the dark. At five foot four
inches and one hundred twenty-five pounds, she could’ve been
prey to many dangers, but self-defense courses and a weekend
of survival training had taught her what she needed. Her
honey-blonde hair, pulled back into a ponytail, and large
hazel eyes hid the fact that she was capable of defending
herself. She could "get by" with a book of matches and a
bottle of water for days if needed. She felt that she could
handle almost anything that might happen around her. Her
thoughts were wandering as she drove west along I-40 at
sunset. The clear desert air helped to create the glaring
brightness that blinded her. Her hands ached from gripping
the steering wheel, the tight muscles in her shoulders and
neck were screaming at her. When the radio played the old
dark rock song D.O.A., that did it, she decided it was time
for a break.
Within a minute of her decision she was
relieved to see a "Rest Area – No Facilities" sign that
directed her off the highway and into a large, currently
vacant parking area next to a thickly wooded field. The
interstate was only yards away, but a hill sheltered the
rest area from the louder traffic sounds and kept the
highway headlights from sweeping it.
She heaved a
deep sigh of relief, unlocked her fingers from the death
grip she had on the steering wheel, turned off the GMC ¾-ton
pickup, and climbed down from the tall cab of the 4x4. She
locked the truck and walked around her rig checking tires,
wiring, hitch latch and locks on the tack and horse
compartments. When she was certain that all was secure, she
opened the feed windows to give the horses some fresh air
while she grabbed a snack in the living quarters of the
horse trailer.
Just walking around the trailer had
lightened her heart, and the beautiful rose-tinted sunset
lifted her spirits now that she wasn’t driving into it. She
rested her chin on her collarbone, turned her head slowly,
rotating it to loosen the tense muscles along her neck and
shoulders. That felt better. She paused to enjoy the view
around her. The distant clouds to the east had a surreal
purple hue as the sunlight dipped behind the western
mountains. Directly overhead was the glimmer of a jet headed
north, streaming a bright white contrail behind as it moved
across the darkening sky. If she spent half an hour eating
and resting, the sun would be completely down and driving
would be easier.
The horse camp where she held
reservations was an hour’s drive away. It was close to
Tucumcari, New Mexico and convenient to the highway. She
grabbed her cell phone and tried to call the campground to
let them know she was running late, but there was no signal.
The temperature was dropping with the sunset; the horses
would need their blankets.
She felt better
emotionally as she entered her living quarters to grab the
leftover chicken and a bottle of water from the small
fridge. Her living quarters had a small table with bench
seats that could become a bed and worked as a step up into
the bed over the gooseneck of the trailer. It was only a
year old and she loved the convenience of the fridge and the
inside plumbing.
While she ate, she reflected on the
past year or so of her life, from the moment her now
ex-husband showed up with his trashy, pregnant girlfriend to
demand a divorce, forward to her present situation, sitting
in a rest area on the westbound side of I-40. She shouldn’t
have been so shocked that Bobby had a girlfriend. He hadn’t
slept with her in over a year and he had always been a horny
jerk. Ignoring something is easier than facing it. Only
the thought that she had wasted over eight years fooling
herself hurt. She managed to keep her temper as she faced
them until Bobby said his interest strayed because of her
weight. That did it. She took offense at his insinuation
that she was too curvy. While not a size 2, she was not
ashamed of her size 8 figure with a tucked-in waist, nice
hips and well-rounded C-cup breasts.
What the ass
specifically said was, "You’ll be all right, darling;
someday you’ll find a man who likes all your curves, it just
isn’t me. I tend to like my women taller, younger, and
thinner, at least most of the time." Then he smiled and
patted the extended belly of the bleached blonde.
She looked the trashy bitch up and down, taking in the
extended belly and the vacant expression before replying,
"Look, sweetheart, you’d better keep your wallet full;
otherwise even this piece of trash will notice that your
loving lacks more than her pleasure." She had sneered at
them. "By the way, I ride as a Featherweight, you ass. Now
take your bimbo and get out of my house!"
The memory
of that exchange, even fourteen months later, brought a
smile to her lips. She made certain the creep paid dearly
for the fast divorce he needed. He paid her full market
value for her share of the house. He also paid cash for her
new ¾-ton 4x4 GMC Pickup, and a three-horse Living Quarters
trailer with a 6-foot short wall. The final revenge was the
healthy alimony check that went into her personal account
every month. This money allowed her to travel and paid her
entry fees. After she got all of that, the bimbo could keep
what was left of him and welcome to it. Heart surgeon or
not, Bethany hoped she had depleted his personal accounts
enough to make them eat hamburger.
After a few
months, it struck her the best thing she got in the divorce
was her freedom. As the realization hit, she began to smile
over nothing for hours at a time. She found herself enjoying
every minute of the day, especially the peace and quiet of
her own company in the evenings. She no longer had to deal
with the stress of knowing there was nothing she could do to
please him. Gone was the guilt she had been made to feel
over her supposed shortcomings.
Life was sweet, and
all hers. But the highway was getting old. After the
divorce, she had decided to get away from Washington State
by attending rides in each of the nine regions recognized by
the American Endurance Ride Conference. While many areas
were beautiful and promising, she was still looking, hoping
to find a person as well as a place that called her to
settle down. She was no longer afraid of living alone, but
admitted she wanted someone to share her life.
She
sat eating her snack, thinking of the kind of man she wanted
in her life. Someone smart, decisive, honest, loyal, caring,
tender and supportive would be her ideal. Good looking,
healthy, good horseman, and sexy would be nice qualities,
too. While she might compromise on the "tall, dark, and
handsome" part of a dream man, the other characteristics
were not negotiable. She knew she wouldn’t compromise on
chemistry either; if fire and passion weren’t there, she
wouldn’t be either. One boring sex marriage was enough for
anyone. She wanted orgasms and passion, not just frantic
humping in the dark followed by his snoring that left her
wondering, "What fun was that?"
Bobby was her first
lover. He was surprised at her virginity. He had been tender
and gentle that night. After that, it was wham-bam,
thank-you-ma’am whenever he was in the mood, regardless of
her wishes. Romance died early in their marriage, so she
buried herself in school and later work.
Eventually,
her riding instructor introduced her to the sport of
endurance. Distance riding became both a challenge and the
most fulfilling part of her life. She rescued Coup from a
show barn, where he was a brilliant jumper but constantly
misbehaved. He hated the show ring and acted out against it
frequently, but he loved the open trail and helped her
become a confident endurance competitor.
During the
later years of their marriage, she began reading romance
novels that led her to dream of the perfect lover. They also
motivated her to create her list of requirements for the
next man in her life. This time, she knew she wasn’t going
to settle for another jerk like Bobby. Surely, there must be
an intelligent, tender lover out there who was looking for a
smaller, 28-year-old woman with an independent nature. She
had time to find this perfect (or almost perfect) man. She
wasn’t in a rush; however, she’d like to find him before she
reached 35, so they could safely start a family. Two
children would be nice.
Bethany realized that she’d
been daydreaming over her snack while her horses stood in
the chilling trailer as the temperature dropped. She grabbed
the horse blankets, turned off the overhead light, let her
eyes adjust, and moved through the door into the horse
compartment. She blanketed Coup and slipped next to Harley.
She was fastening his blanket when she heard another vehicle
come into the rest area.
She heard arguing male
voices when one of them said, "Did you get the plate number
of that truck? I’ll check out the trailer. Don’t look like
anyone’s home, but we don’t need any witnesses." At the same
moment, an older voice asked, "Could you please untie my
hands so I can take a leak?"
Bethany froze. The
overheard conversation terrified her and her gun was under
the mattress on the bed. She moved back next to Coup and
leaned against the door to the living quarters. She heard a
knock on the outside door, then the door of the living
quarters opened and the trailer rocked as the stranger
entered. She held her breath as she heard him move around
the living quarters, searching for the owner in any space
that had a door. Her heart was beating loudly in her ears.
The handle to the horse compartment moved and she felt a
push against the door. Her foot slipped and this startled
Coup, who stomped his foot and rocked the trailer.
Thankfully, this seemed to surprise the stranger into
letting the door close.
Outside his partner shouted,
"Hey! Get back here or I’ll shoot you! I mean it!"
There was a gunshot, followed by the sounds of someone
scrambling through the brush. She felt the trailer rock as
the stranger left and slammed the door. There was a second
shot just outside, next to Coup’s head, followed by quick
footsteps in the gravel as the stranger took off chasing
whoever was scrambling in the brush.
A third shot
and more sounds of running in the brush, along with some
cussing. The action froze in place as another set of
headlights arrived into the rest area. Bethany peeked out
next to Coup’s head and saw a dark SUV with a man holding a
gun outlined by the headlights of the arriving car. She got
a good look at the gunman when he turned to look at the new
arrival. The driver of the arriving sedan stopped and was
halfway out the door when he must have spotted the gun in
the killer’s hand. He didn’t even get his door closed before
putting his car into reverse and backing out of the rest
area at a high rate of speed. There were sounds of the
vehicle crunching against rock or concrete as he missed part
of the exit ramp, then the sound of squealing tires as the
sedan got back onto the highway and sped away.
"Get
your ass in the car; we can’t let that guy get away! We’ll
come back and take care of the old man after we eliminate
that witness." The man with the gun was motioning the other
man to get in as he put the car in reverse to turn. His
partner made a running jump into the open passenger side
door.
Tires spun as the kidnappers left the rest
area, and the flying gravel pattered against Bethany’s
truck. Then all was eerily silent. She realized she might
have only a few minutes before they came back. She knew she
had to check on the old man, she might be able to save him;
she couldn’t just leave him there alone if he was still
alive.
Bethany grabbed her flashlight. She put her
body between the circle of light and the parking area to
shield it from prying eyes. She found a trail of blood and
bent brush. It led her to the old man, leaning against a
large oak holding his gut where blood was pouring around his
fingers. With a sinking heart, she realized that he was
bleeding too much and was too large for her to carry back to
her truck. He was conscious.
She bent over him. She
grabbed her gloves from her pocket and tried to use them as
a pressure bandage, but there was so much blood, and the
gloves didn’t even cover the entire wound. She felt
completely helpless. "I don’t know what I can do for you.
There’s no cell service in this area and you need help. I
can’t just leave you." Her tears were evident in her voice.
"Get out of here; they’ll be back and they won’t let
anyone live that has seen me with ‘em." The old man’s voice
was weak and there was blood on his cracked lips as he tried
weakly to push her away. "Take this; it’s got my PO box on
it. There’s a large envelope there. Don’t let Cole get his
hands on it and don’t trust anyone. Cole owns everything."
He coughed and blood spattered her jacket. "Get the envelope
to my son. If you think Roger had any part in this, then
keep it for yourself." The man struggled to take a breath
and continue. "Take this dog collar; it’s got the
combination for the PO box. Now, get out of here! Go! Tell
my boy I’m sorry." As he got the last word out, the breath
left his body and his eyes lost all sight.
Bethany
reached over to check his jugular pulse and murmured a
prayer for his lost life. She stuck the items into her coat
pocket and turned and ran as fast as she could back to her
truck and trailer.
Bethany was in shock, her brain a
fog. She knew she had to move fast without being seen. Her
mind was chasing around all the television shows she had
ever seen for ways to sneak out of the rest area. In the
dark, the running lights on her trailer lit up like a
Christmas tree once the truck headlights were lit. She moved
around the rig and disconnected the electrical cord from the
truck to the trailer.
This disconnected the brakes
for the trailer as well as the lights. The truck could stop
the trailer so long as she kept her speed down and didn’t
try any sudden moves. Next, she used her key to unlock the
cab and jumped into the truck. She turned the "auto"
headlights off before she started the engine, then she
turned off the interior dash lights. She could drive blind
until she felt that she was safely away from the killers. At
least the half moon was up and shining brightly in the clear
air, so she wouldn’t be completely blind. Her night vision,
honed by years of competing in Rides that began or ended in
the dark, was excellent. She knew the killers would follow
her when they found her rig missing. She would be safer if
she left no trail to follow. Without the trailer running
lights, she hoped she just looked like a camper to any
vehicles coming at her or up from behind. She drove slowly
as she left the rest area, gaining speed until she was
traveling only ten miles below the limit. Slower than that
would draw attention.
Had the sedan turned off the
highway or used all of its speed to get down the road? In
his place, she would floor it and then turn off at the first
truck stop exit to seek shelter in a crowd until the cops
arrived. However, what that driver would do could only be
speculated.
She heard sirens farther to the west as
she turned north on Hwy 362, toward Ute State Park and
Logan, New Mexico. She said a prayer for the safety of the
other witness. She had a 50-50 chance the killers would
either not take this exit or go the wrong direction if they
did. While she was heading north sooner than she wanted, she
had told the Ride Manager of the Coyote, New Mexico ride
that she would be there early. She could use that camp to
re-group, but it was too far to drive tonight. There were
few parks between Logan and I-25 in the Grasslands. She
would just follow Highway 462 to Highway 39 and continue
north until she found a place where she could park and camp
out of sight of the highway. Chances were good that she
would be safe tonight, once she put about sixty miles
between her and I-40.
When she approached the small
town of Roy, New Mexico there wasn’t anything open and only
one parking lot large enough for her rig. She parked there
and went into the living quarters. She dug out her computer
and Googled the town, searching for any possible location to
camp for the night. Nothing came up within a hundred miles.
As she sat there in the rig, frustrated and near tears,
there was a light knock on trailer door. Her heart started
racing, and she grabbed her pistol with shaking hands when
there was a louder, more persistent knock, followed by a
man’s voice. "Hey, you okay in there? Anything we can do to
help? We’re on our way home and spotted your rig just
sitting here. Are you having truck problems?"
Bethany took a deep breath to steady her nerves and replied,
"Who are you? I’m fine, but I’m having a hard time finding a
campground for us for tonight." She tried to keep her voice
from quivering, but failed. "Can you direct us to some place
within a few miles that would allow me to camp?" she asked
him. "I can set up with the horses tied on the trailer.
Anything would work, even just a parking lot or open field."
She hated the pleading note in her voice. "We’ve had a long
day and need someplace within a few miles. I just don’t
think I could drive another half hour." To her
embarrassment, she felt tears falling and had to sniffle as
quietly as she could.
"My name is Joshua Blackwell.
My wife Mary’s with me. We own the Blackwell Ranch about
five miles south of here," he told her through the door.
"It’s not a campground, but you can park your rig and
there’s a round pen for the horses," he offered. "That would
be a lot better for ‘em than tied to the trailer. Why don’t
you follow us out to the ranch?" He sounded reasonable as he
asked.
Bethany worried about following a stranger to
his place but felt that the killers wouldn’t have the brains
to come up with a ranch and round pen offer. They didn’t
seem that smart or knowledgeable about horses. She put the
gun away and opened the door to meet a cowboy of about 45.
He was dressed in worn boots, snagged denim jeans, and a
faded blue denim fleece lined jacket so popular in northern
New Mexico. His Stetson hat tilted back off his weathered
brow and he automatically put his calloused hand out to help
her step down from the living quarters. That sealed it for
Bethany; she wouldn’t expect homicidal maniacs and murderers
to be so polite. She looked over at his truck and saw the
definite outline of a woman. Not too many murderers traveled
with their wives, either.
"My name is Bethany
Wilcox, Mr. Blackwell. Thank you so much. You’ve no idea how
much I would appreciate following you and your wife back to
your ranch for the night." She nodded toward the horse
compartment. "Coup and Harley would enjoy being able to kick
up their heels in a round pen. I don’t care where I park, so
long as I’m no longer moving." She gave him her best smile
and shook his outstretched hand.
"It’s just Joshua,
ma’am, and you’re very welcome. Just follow us; it’s south
down the highway and on the left," he told her. "About two
miles up from the highway is the house and barns." He used
the vague "over there" gesture so commonly used. "You’ll see
the round pen on the left as we pull in. You can park any
place you want between the house and the pen, and there’s a
water spigot for your horses." He gave her a polite smile.
She could see the questions burning in his blue eyes
as to what she was doing this far from any of the cities,
but he politely refrained from questioning her. He lightly
took her elbow and walked her around to the cab of her
truck, where he stood by to assist if she needed a hand
climbing into it. No, homicidal maniacs and murderers
weren’t that polite in the real world; at least, she
wouldn’t expect it of them.
Joshua walked back to
his own pickup, climbed in and drove past the front of her
rig as he left the parking lot, turning south on Highway 39.
He drove slowly until he was certain that she was following.
Bethany appreciated Joshua turning on his left signal about
a quarter mile from the turn. She began slowing at the sight
of his signal so the horses would be able to adjust to the
turn. He waited up the driveway as she maneuvered to follow
him. She looked around the property as they arrived in the
ranch yard.
Mary turned on the yard lights as she
entered the house, while Joshua came over to help Bethany
unload and set up. "Here, let me get the horses untied for
you," he said as he reached up and unsnapped them. "Bet you
have to climb up on the wheel well to reach them, don’t
you?" Joshua smiled over at her. Bethany moved to the back
of the trailer, opened the door to let out the first horse.
Harley, a Mustang/Arab cross, was larger than her Arab by
about a hand. He was broader than Coup, as well. He had been
mellow-natured and easy to handle since she bought him at
the age of two. Now, four years later, he was an old hand at
hauling and camping out. Without his blanket, his bay coat
would show large white spots. He was a flashy horse whose
rippling muscles reflected his excellent condition. He
paused as he cleared the trailer, waiting for Bethany to
clip a lead rope onto his halter while he surveyed his
surroundings.
"I’ll take this one while you get the
other." Joshua reached for the lead. He moved Harley to the
side so that she could get into the trailer and unlatch the
dividers to let out the other gelding. Instead of backing,
Coup turned around in the trailer to look out as Bethany
clipped the lead rope to his halter. He surveyed the area
carefully, then he stepped out regally, owning any ground
where he set his hooves. As the alpha horse, Coup kept watch
for monsters and led the way to safety when needed.
She could see approval of Coup in the rancher. Not everyone
would appreciate a horse that was observant and cautious of
his surroundings. Coup wasn’t spooky, just careful. "Come
on, let’s get these guys into the pen before they see
monsters and cause havoc," she said.
Joshua led
Harley into the pen, and Bethany followed with Coup. He
waited to close the gate or release the younger horse until
Coup was safely inside. "Do you want to leave on the
blankets?" he asked. "There’s supposed to be a frost in the
morning. If these horses haven’t gotten winter coats yet,
blankets would be a good idea," he advised her.
"Yeah, let’s leave them covered, but we’ll take off the
halters," she said. Bethany removed Coup’s halter. He
trotted around the pen, snorting as he checked for imagined
demons. Finding no demons, Coup pawed the ground and dropped
to roll in the hard-packed sand. Joshua followed Bethany’s
lead and removed Harley’s halter. Harley followed Coup’s
lead while Joshua and Bethany moved out of the pen.
"Would you mind if I feed them on the ground, or would you
prefer I use flake bags for the hay?" Bethany pulled two
15-gallon water tubs from her trailer and grabbed a hose to
fill them. Joshua took the other end of the hose and hooked
it to an outdoor water pump, turning on the water in a
practiced motion. "The wind around here will blow any
leavings out of the pen in a few hours, so don’t worry about
it."
They worked smoothly as a team to set up the
horses for the night. As the tubs filled with water, each of
them threw a few flakes of hay over the fence. Bethany added
grain in flat feeders for each horse, Coup getting twice as
much as Harley. He needed the extra rations to recover from
the 50-mile competition of Saturday. The Indian Territory
ride had been warm for a fall ride. It was great trail, lots
of water, nice and knowledgeable management and volunteers,
but warm and humid. Coup had suffered no metabolic problems
from the weather and she was pleased that they finished in
the top ten. While they didn’t get Best Condition, his Vet
Score had been very good and that meant more than winning.
The long drive today could have caused problems, but she had
no choice and hoped they would suffer no ill effects from
it.
"Looks like that should take care of them for
the night. Why don’t you come in for a cup of coffee and
dinner?" Joshua looked over at Bethany with a warm smile.
Her curly hair was edging her baseball cap and he
appreciated her warm looking jacket and boots. High desert
weather could turn cold quickly, and warm clothes could mean
the difference between comfort and disaster.
"Thank
you, but no. I’ve imposed enough," she said. "I want to
thank you and your wife for letting us stay here for the
night." She smiled at him. "I know I’ll sleep more soundly
knowing the horses are safe and comfortable. Thank you."
Bethany shook his hand. "I think we’ll likely get out of
your way by about nine tomorrow morning," she assured him.
"Maybe earlier, but I need to go over my maps and figure the
route to our next Ride Camp. I want to arrive there early to
let the horses get used to the area a bit before we go
rocketing over the trails. Have a good night." She moved
away from him and stepped into the trailer. Once inside, she
lit her propane heater, cracked a window and climbed up into
bed. She was asleep almost before the sleeping bag settled
over her shoulder.
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