catching sight of Mustang, the two dogs moving slowly through the deep snow, crystals continuing to fall from the sky. The pups were in no shape to be outside, the extra exertion not good for either one of them.
What terrified me was the fact Mustang had his weapon in his hand.
I moved quickly into the bedroom, struggling into a sweater and jeans, yanking on my heavy boots, then moving quickly to grab my coat before throwing open the door. I was surprised at the amount of snow, at least ten inches, maybe more. I could just make out Mustang, the dogs following closely behind. He was crouched down, looking at something. As I yanked the collar of my jacket around my neck, I took careful steps, ice crunching beneath my feet.
Zorro saw me first, bounding through the snow in my direction, no sign of the trauma he’d experienced the night before. I was amazed he was doing as well as he was. However, I could tell by Rattler’s slow gait that he needed additional tender loving care. When he took off running in my direction, I was terrified he’d rip out his sutures. Yet both seemed so happy, their joyful barks filling the chilly air.
“Babies,” I said as I hunkered down, Zorro knocking me all the way into the snow. “You little brat.” My squeals were almost as loud as their playful sounds. While Mustang glanced in my direction once, he continued to trudge in the opposite direction, searching the woods. I watched him for a short time, finally standing and walking closer.
“Mustang,” I finally called over the loud bark of the dogs.
After a few seconds, he tipped his head in my direction. The gun was still firmly planted in his hand. I could tell as I walked closer that he’d walked a solid arc around the perimeter. When I approached, the look on his face was one of determination.
And fury.
“We had a visitor in the middle of the night,” he said gruffly. “By the looks of it, not too long ago.”
After walking closer, I stared down at the single track made by a heavy-duty tire, surprised that the wind drifts hadn’t covered it up completely. “One of the earlier assholes?”
“Hard to tell.” He gazed down the driveway before shifting his heated glance toward the house. “The power is out.”
“I know.”
As he returned the safety, slipping the gun into the rear waistband of his jeans, he finally gazed into his eyes. “We’re not staying here.”
“Wait a minute. I might have patients to see today and I don’t want to move Rattler.”
He trudged closer, his jaw clenched. “No one is coming out in this until the roads are at least somewhat cleared.”
“Then why are we leaving?”
“Because it’s not safe here. I’m not taking no for an answer, Danni. They’re not going to stop until they get what they want.”
“What do they want?”
“That’s what I plan on finding out.”
“It’s safe here,” I insisted.
Inhaling, he moved toward me quickly, his massive body looming over mine. “Listen to me. The electricity was tampered with.”
“What?” I shrank back, scanning the forest as my nerves shot into overdrive.
“Someone smashed the panel box, Danni. This shit is getting serious.”
I dragged my tongue across my lips, horrible sensations of being watched filtering into my mind.
I had no intention, nor would it do me any good to argue with him. I gazed back down at the track then toward the driveway, suddenly chilled to the bone. “Then where are we going?” I realized I’d whispered the question.
Exhaling, he rubbed his fingers across my cheek. They were frigid. He’d been outside for a long time.
“My place. I haven’t advertised where I live, the only folks who know work at the ranch. You should be safe there, especially until I return.”
“What does that mean?”
He whistled at the dogs, both pups immediately shifting to his side. “That means this shit ends today, one way or the other.”
“O-kay.”
“Just get some things together. Then we leave.”
I trudged back to the house, the dogs following, the same dread continuing to remain in the back of my mind.
All I could do was pray.
Chapter 15
Mustang
“Hawk. Where the hell are you? We need to talk.” I tossed the phone onto the seat next to me, huffing as I twisted both hands around the steering wheel. Everything was starting to come together, although I was yet to put the reasons why someone was obviously out to take down Big Meadow. My memory was fuzzy about certain aspects of the