came closer together, the lanes narrowing, any attempt at a shoulder falling away. Gazing out across the crowns of thousands of trees blanketing the sides of the mountain, she remembered for a moment the rhythm and joy of the holler.
Through a break in the trees, she saw the faraway roof of the church in town, tiny from this distance, diminished in importance the way she’d hoped she would be by leaving Sallabrook as she had. Then he’d come all the way to Florida to find her.
“Hateful, spiteful man.” Her whisper stuck in her throat, closed around the words until she thought she might choke. The closer they got, the harder she found it to breathe. Myrt leaned forwards between the two seats and pointed, fighting through the information Bane needed. “Next right is the road to the farm. It’s narrow and easy to miss.”
“Next right, got it.” Bane allowed gravity to bleed off the tiny bit of speed he’d gained on the last straightaway. “You doin’ okay, darlin’?”
“I’m scared.” She hadn’t meant the words to be so loud, but there they were, hanging in the air as both men remained silent for a beat, their nonreaction screaming with surprise. “Not of you, of course. But of what we might find.”
“If he touched them—” Bane reminded her of his vow, and she nodded.
“I know.” She pointed again. “There, see the tree with the broken branch? The turn’s there.”
“Hell,” Gunny muttered, his fingers wrapped tightly around the handle above his door. “I hate cages.”
“Same, brother.” Bane spun the wheel, making the sharp turn to the rutted road. “Same. These roads weren’t made for this century.” The muscles in his forearms tensed and bulged, fingers wringing the wheel for a moment. “How far is it, Myrt?”
“Not far. ’Bout a mile or so.” She shrugged, staring out the front windshield. “Give or take.” Sweat trickled down her spine and dampened underneath her arms. She wiped her palms on the legs of her jeans and strained forwards a little more. “Just a couple of turns and we’ll be on the barn and sheds. Do you see any recent tire tracks? Does it look like he’s gonna be here?”
Gunny twisted around in the seat and gazed at her. “Myrtle.” His voice was low, gravelly like Bane’s could get when he was trying to be serious. “Nothing is going to happen to you.”
“You don’t know him.” She cut her eyes towards him, seeing his full focus was her. “And, all respect—you don’t know me, sir.”
“True.” Gunny glanced at Bane, then turned to face her more fully. “I can say nothing is going to happen to you and mean it, but because you don’t know me, you don’t know I can back up those words.” He lifted his chin pridefully, lips pressed into a tight slash across his face. “Between me…well, and me, I’ve got you covered.”
The van skittered sideways as they rumbled across a series of washboard ruts and Bane swore so colorfully it made her want to smile. “We’re nearly there. The rough spot was the dry creek.”
“I see the barn.” Bane’s words had Gunny turning away, but not before he gave her a dignified nod. “I’m driving right up to the house. Myrt, you stay in the van until we know if Sallabrook’s here or not.”
“I remember, Bane.” Her voice was steadier than her nerves, and she wiped her palms across her jeans again. “Doors will be locked and I’m not to touch them until you give me the go-ahead.”
The van seemed to gain momentum over those last hundred yards, barreling into the empty yard. The wheels locked with a jerk, and they slid past the space where Sallabrook always parked his truck, coming to a stop only feet away from the wooden steps leading to the porch. Bane and Gunny were out of the van in an instant, Myrt scarcely getting her hands up in time to catch the keys tossed to her. She pressed the button Bane had coached her on, hearing the solid thump of the locks clicking into place. Bane’s hand went to the middle of his back as he walked away from the van, rotating in a slow circle to take in the whole of the farm as the gun came free of the holster. She glanced at Gunny to see he also had a weapon in hand, his gaze fixed outwards, towards the driveway and trees, up the mountain to where nothing lived.