Desert Heart (The Wolves of Twin Moon Ranch Book 4) (15 page)

Dale, for his part, seemed to have returned more cantankerous than ever from his last drinking spree. He wheezed and cursed and finally disappeared into the barn, all without any mention of the strange howling. Dale had eventually driven off on some errand at noon, and Rick went right on weeding and dreaming about the team he’d form at Seymour Ranch if he could. Get rid of Dale and hire a few new hands. Find a couple of young rookies who were eager to learn, plus a couple of experienced hands with a strong work ethic to guide them. He’d need someone familiar with those Heritage breed steer Henry had been so keen to try out, too. And once the ranch was back on its feet, he and Tina could…

Could what? When? Would she ever come around?

A raven cawed, and the sound echoed over the nearly deserted ranch. Rick wiped the sweat from his brow and sighed. Yeah, he had a lot of work ahead of him yet.

The work, he didn’t mind. It was the wait that killed him. Waiting patiently while he sowed the seeds for his vision, and waiting for Tina’s call.

When the phone rang, it was with a text tone and not the chime of a live call, but he jumped for it all the same. Exhaled in relief to see it was from her. He smiled at the screen, clicked to open the message, and promptly cursed.

The dog jumped to its feet as Rick reread it and cursed again.

Must talk to you. Urgent! Meet at Diablo Mine. Hurry!

Of all the messages he’d imagined Tina writing, that sure wasn’t it. But it was her number, all right.

Why would Tina want to meet him at Diablo Mine and not at the ranch? A thousand possible scenarios ran through his mind as he fired up his pickup and set off on the drive. He didn’t notice the dog trying to follow until about a mile down the road, when he caught a glimpse of the dejected mutt panting wildly in the rearview mirror. He was about to pull over to wait, but by then Tex had given up, so he drove on alone. No time to wait now, because his veins were itching with urgency. More and more with every mile of the long and lonely road up into the hills. Something was wrong.

The whole thing felt strange. Tina, texting but not calling? Meeting him at a place like this?

He parked the car at the top of Dead Horse Bluff, his least favorite place in the world, and looked around. Nothing. Nobody. He sat behind the wheel, stroking a thumb against his chest for a good minute after shutting the engine off.

Not a thing, except maybe buzzards and ghosts.

He got out and eyed the cliff. Wondered for the hundredth time about his father’s death. Wondered why Tina would ever meet him in a godforsaken place like this.

Maybe she was still on her way. He looked around, hoping to see a plume of rising dust that signaled the approach of a car on these back roads. But there was nothing. Nothing but him, a thousand square miles of slumbering desert, and that leaden feeling in his gut.

Must talk to you. Urgent!

His eyes wandered to the boarded-up entrance to the mine, and he did a double take. The couple of old boards that had blocked the mine entrance lay discarded on the ground, and a black hole yawned.

Why was the mine open?

His stride grew longer, more urgent, then shortened again as he approached the mine.

Never go near there, you understand? It’s a bad, bad place.
His father’s warnings rang in his ears.

Would Tina venture in there? Would she dare?

“Hello?” he called quietly into the darkness.

-ello… -llo,
came the ghostly echo.

He listened. Nothing. “Tina?”

-ina… -ina…

A shiver rippled down his spine.

No. No way would Tina venture down there. Why would she? Why would anyone come to this godforsaken place? The only person who’d been up here lately was Dale and—

His thoughts screeched to a halt, spinning wildly. So wildly, he didn’t hear the footsteps behind him before it was too late.

“Looking for someone?”

He spun and there on his blind side was Dale. Dale and a double-barreled shotgun, pointed at his chest.

Dale spat a wad of tobacco on the ground and grinned. A twisted, ugly grin of blackened teeth behind cracked lips.

“Dale,” Rick grunted, slowly raising his hands.

“No one up here but you, me, and the crows,” Dale chuckled.

Rick held perfectly still, though his eyes darted around.

“Looking for this?” Dale held out a phone. Tina’s phone. How did he get his hands on that?

Rick stared at him. Dale sent the text? Then where was Tina?

The panic must have been written on his face, because Dale laughed. “Nah, she ain’t here. But maybe I ought to invite her up here later. Yeah, that’s a good idea. I could use
your
phone for that…” Rick could see the gears spinning in Dale’s head as the wicked smile stretched. “Maybe I’ll invite the little lady up here to peek over the edge of the cliff. What do you think about that?”

Rick froze at the triumphant tone in the man’s voice.

Dale’s smile turned into a sneer. “Accidents do happen, you know.”

Dale might as well have run cold steel through Rick’s gut.

“You did it. You killed my father.” His voice was the only thing that felt steady right now. Why would anyone want that gentle soul dead?

Dale shrugged. “Not my fault he came snooping around here.”

The cold air of the mine tickled Rick’s back as his mind raced. So many thoughts and emotions at one time, it was all a flash of colors. Blazing red was for the rage shaking his bones. The sinking black hole in his gut was grief. And the ivory blur was fear. Not for himself, but for Tina. What if Dale really did lure her up here?

“You killed my father over some leftover gold?” Who would do such a thing?

Dale cackled. “Like this mine’s got any gold that’s worth my time.”

Worth his time? How much did Dale reckon a washed-up cowboy’s time was worth?

Dale worked up a glob of phlegm and spat before ranting on. “This is why you’re such a shitty manager. Don’t know nothing about the value of the land. The land
under
this ranch.”

Rick studied Dale. There was that water drilling issue the Hawthornes were so worried about. Was Dale behind that, too? “You killed my father over water rights?”

Dale grimaced. “Water! You think this is about water? Not even his life was worth that little.”

The only thing that kept Rick from charging and throttling the man was the rifle pointed at his chest.

The barrel swung briefly toward the mine shaft then back at Rick. “The water is just the start. Uranium is where the big money is.”

Rick froze. There’d been talk of uranium among local ranchers for years, but the Seymours had always been dead set against it.

Don’t you know what terrible things uranium is used for?
Lucy used to protest, pressing a hand against her chest.

The Seymours had been strong enough to resist trading their morals for big money. Dale, on the other hand…

The older man’s face twisted into a frown. “Back up.” He jerked the barrel of the gun. “Back up.”

Rick didn’t have much choice but to pick his way backward. Slowly, while his mind raced to come up with some survival plan. Would Dale really shoot him? The answer was in the man’s bloodshot eyes. Rick had heard that murder was easier the second time around. And if he was the second, the third time would be even easier, and that would be Tina.

He shook his head.
Think! Think!

Delay. He needed to delay Dale while thinking up some plan.

“What would make my father snoop around here at all?” he asked.

Dale aimed between his eyes. “Just back up.”

Another step, and now he was in the shade of the mine entrance. One more, and the outside world was already a tunnel, far, far away. He wondered if his father had overheard a phone call, or maybe caught a glimpse of a map. Asked an innocent question and set off a nightmare.

A nightmare a lot like this. Rick eyed the beams supporting the mine shaft. All of them were hand-hewn timbers from another age. Could he grab one and take a swing at Dale?

Right, and collapse the mine on top of yourself. Try again.

His foot rolled over a loose stone. Maybe that. He wasn’t much of a pitcher, but he sure as hell could hurl one of those if he needed to.

“Golden boy thinks he can just waltz back home and take charge,” Dale started to rant. “Well, I got news for you. This ranch is mine, and I’m not gonna sit around while you ruin—”

An ungodly moan came up from the depths of the mine. A moan that stretched into a low, continuous growl just like that of the previous night.

Rick’s heart rate jumped into triple time as he whipped around to squint into the darkness.

“What the…” Dale muttered.

Shale crunched under Dale’s boots as he backed toward daylight.

“Nuh-uh,” the foreman jerked the rifle back up when Rick followed. “You stay right there.”

The growl deepened and grew nearer. If the beast had been miles down in the maze of darkness before, it felt much closer now. As in, just-around-the-bend close.

Rick stepped toward Dale, ignoring the gun.

“I said—” Dale started. The syllables echoed down the mine, but all Rick heard was the growl. The growl that had just cleared a corner, along with two glowing red eyes. Every nerve in Rick’s body stretched to the breaking point as he fought the instinct to flee.

“Shit,” Dale blurted, raising the barrel of his shotgun.

Jesus, what had Dale unleashed in reopening this mine?

An engine sounded outside—another vehicle pulling up. It screeched to a stop and a door slammed.

A voice called into the mine. “Rick?”

He could have screamed. Tina.
No! Not here! Not now!

“Rick?” she called again. He could see her silhouette in the entrance, backlit by the sun.

“Get away, Tina! Get away!”

The angry growl deepened as the beast coiled to spring. Rick could sense it even in the dark. Another horrible bellow sounded, followed by a shuffling, angry step.

Prepare to die,
the beast might as well have announced.

Click-click.
Dale cocked the rifle.

“Don’t!” Rick shouted as the tight-lipped growl became a bared-teeth snarl. Shooting whatever it was seemed about as smart as shooting a charging grizzly.

“Rick!” Tina screamed.

“Don’t!” Rick yelled, waving at Dale.

Dale raised the rifle and squinted down the barrel exactly as the beast leaped.

Boom!
The rifleshot thundered through the mine.

Rick leaped aside just as searing heat ripped across his shoulder.

“Rick!” Tina screamed.

The beast roared. The beams supporting the roof creaked. Rick flattened himself against a wall as the beast hurtled through his blind spot and out into the daylight.

Another shout rang out. A second thunderbolt of a shot.

Rick staggered to his feet as horrible screams sounded outside as the beast tore into its prey.

The beast had pushed Dale out into the daylight, and Rick had no choice but to stumble along in its wake. Tina was out there, too, and somehow, he had to get her to safety. The fire in his shoulder didn’t matter. The beast didn’t matter. Only Tina did.

The whole world zoomed down to the light at the end of that mine shaft, and he staggered toward it.

An overhead beam groaned. The roof shook, raining dirt as Rick ran in a crouch.

Dale screamed in a desperate, barely human voice as the beast ripped into his flesh.

“Rick!” Tina’s higher voice cried.

Overhead beams screeched in agony as the roof caved in.

Rick shot forward, half an inch ahead of a collapsing beam. His ears filled with the sounds of a hellstorm: crashing timbers, rumbling earth, the tearing of sharp teeth into mortal flesh. Dale screamed horribly, then whimpered, and finally moaned.

Rick’s eyes seared in the sudden daylight. The fire in his shoulder flared. Everything blurred, including the grunting, angry shape that must have been the beast, finishing off Dale.

Tina? Where was Tina?

“Rick!” An urgent whisper reached his ears. A thin hand closed around his. “Quick!”

A warm rush filled his veins, because it was Tina, and that meant there was hope. For her, for him. For them.

She yanked him in the direction of her car.

“Tina!” He spun to catch her as she sprawled over one of the discarded planks that should have been boarding up the mine.

The second he pulled her to her feet, everything went silent. Deathly silent. They both froze and turned at the same time.

The beast rose slowly from Dale’s limp body. Its muzzle was flecked with blood and foam as if it were rabid, except rabid animals didn’t have eyes that glowed in broad daylight. It moved slowly, confidently, honing in on them. Stopping when it located them. Focusing.

Rick’s eyes found their focus, too, and he almost wished he hadn’t.

“Hellhound,” Tina whispered.

Rick just nodded, because even if he’d never believed in the old stories about demons, he sure believed now. It was a wolf, though not quite a wolf, because it was big and black and crooked, and fire blazed in its eyes. Hair stuck out in all directions from a pelt that might have been dragged through a sooty creek.

The hellhound’s teeth parted in a bloody grin. The red-stained jaws clacked once. Twice.
You’re next.

If Rick had been alone, he might have panicked. But
next
was fine with him, because it meant Tina might just be spared.

Act! Save her! Fast!

On instinct, he dipped to grab one of the loose pieces of wood. A two-by-four which felt satisfyingly familiar in his hand. He straightened in the same fluid motion and pushed Tina behind him, toward the car. Bared his own teeth at the hellhound, because this wasn’t time for calm and cool and rational, the way he’d always stepped up to the plate. Who cared if his shoulder screamed with every movement?

Mine!
Rick let his whole body roar the message. He stood, swinging his makeshift club in defiance.

“Rick! Don’t!” Tina cried, tugging at his shirt.