said. “You can’t risk them thinking you’ve taken off. I’ll be fine. Tell them you tried to stop me.”
It all made sense to her that she should be the one to go looking for Zeke and not Manny, even though he’d be a better rider. She lifted the reins and gave José a gentle nudge.
At that moment Susie Q. came tearing through the back end of the paddock, rider-less, and obviously spooked, and behind her came Nancy. José made a start, but she smoothed his neck.
She leaned forward and whispered, “Zeke, we have to find Zeke.”
Would she find him dead or alive? She turned at the shouts from the cops. There was no more time to play detective, she needed help. They were running back down the verandah steps.
“Get Stanton to follow us,” she yelled to Manny. “Tell him Zeke, and maybe Rocky, could be in danger. I’m going out to the old abandoned house.”
“Yeah, okay.” Manny broke into a run toward the hacienda. “I can go with them in the cop car,” he yelled back. “Show them the back road.”
“Fabulous.”
She took off at a quick clip, and gripped the reins in one hand, the rifle across her lap with the other. Why hadn’t she known there was a back road to the place?
She shook her head and spoke softly to José.
Her trust and faith were in a horse that knew its way in the dark, and loved only one human being. She leaned down again, whispered Zeke’s name over and over, and urged him forward.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Zeke made it to the back verandah with only one more shot being fired, and to his thinking it was a random shot. That was good, because it meant Rocky couldn’t see where he was. He lay still in a dark corner, behind a pile of boxes Dena had told Manny to bring out for the chili cook-off.
His feet throbbed like they were twice their normal size, and his head ached from smoke inhalation. He stood slowly, crept along the verandah to an old wooden table, and eased open the drawer. Damn. He’d hoped to find Grandfather’s old BB gun. The drawer was empty.
Back on the floor, on hands and knees, he carefully searched through the boxes and grabbed a large knife. He felt for the key in his pocket. The shots had rung out from the upstairs room. He knew that. But where would Rocky be now? Barricaded in that room? Sitting in the stairwell? Hiding behind the front door?
He turned the key in the door, prayed it wouldn’t creak, and pressed his body up against the outside wall. He pushed the door open with his foot.
****
The tension in Dena’s neck increased. Her hand was clammy on the rifle. Sweat beaded on her brow, and her heart raced like she was running a 10K. The ranch house rose up in the distance, but all was quiet.
She rode to one side of the house, tied José up to a tree and slid around the side to the verandah. It was so quiet inside she feared both men might be dead. She entered the old house through the open front door, and stood in the hall outside the main room.
“I’ve got more ammo than you,” Rocky said. “And I’m a better shot.”
She raised her rifle and peeked through the crack in the door. Damn. Maybe her intuition was wrong and it had been Rocky who’d tried to murder her. Rocky sat on the floor, his back to her. She had the element of surprise. She’d shoot and tell them both to drop their weapons, just like they did in the movies. She took steady aim for the floor beside Rocky, kicked the door open, and fired.
“Dena, drop the gun,” Zeke yelled.
She saw sheer terror on his face and lowered the rifle.
“What the hell did you do that for?” Rocky asked, looking down at the splintered floorboards.
Zeke moved toward her and took the rifle. “How did you get here?”
“José,” she said, still recoiling from the sound of her shot. “He’s tied up out the back of the house.”
Sirens blared, and headlights played over the cracked and dirty windows of the old house. She saw a pool of blood near Rocky’s leg and pulled in a quick breath. She’d never shot at a real live person before. She gripped herself tight, and then tried to shake off the horror of what she’d done. Rocky’s pants’ leg was rolled up and blood ran down his leg. Damn. She