Forbidden Ground (Cold Creek #2)(58)

Grant muttered something she couldn’t decipher, so maybe he was thinking the same thing. She was going to suggest he turn back again, but the back window shattered. Kate screamed. A second shot evidently struck a tire, because as Grant hit the brakes, the truck started to spin wildly toward where the road met nothing but gray sky.





18

The last person on earth Kate wanted to see when she opened her eyes was bent over her, dabbing at her forehead with a damp cloth. Lacey Fencer. A cloud of clove scent hit her. Oh, the woman was chewing reddish gum.

Suddenly, she remembered. Grant’s truck had spun out on the road. Had they gone over the cliff? No, she was obviously in the Fencer cabin and wasn’t in pain except for her head. But as she gazed above Lacey, a horrible animal face with horns glared down at her. Was she hallucinating again, like when she’d seen—or thought she’d seen—the Beastmaster?

No, it was a stag head mounted on the wall over the narrow couch where she lay, one like in Todd’s living room. Did everyone decorate this way around here?

“Where’s Grant?” she managed to ask.

“He’s here,” Lacey said. “Both of your air bags deployed. He’s washing up in the bathroom. You lost consciousness, but he didn’t.”

“But is he okay?”

“He is. The truck isn’t. He chose to put it against a tree instead of taking flight. He says you weren’t tailing Brad and me.”

Kate put a hand to her head. Yeah, it hurt. She was a little dizzy. “We were looking for his stolen maple tree and found where it was cut up. Got shot at,” she said.

“So’s we hear,” came a male voice as a grizzled face appeared behind and above Lacey’s to block out the stag head. Lacey’s father, Kate thought. She might not think much of the woman, but at least she must have a good relationship with her father. Kate recalled he had blamed Grant for his daughter’s divorce and, Grant said, was likely to shoot out his picture window. At least her head was clear, even if every muscle in her body ached, and the skin on her face felt sunburned, evidently from the air bag.

Kate heard Brad’s voice. “Grant, I can’t believe you found where the tree-house maple was cut up or that it was up here. Clemmet, you have an idea on who could have done that over there?”

“Or who could have fired at us?” Grant asked. “Someone who’s either not that good a shot or just wanted to scare us off—except for that bullet in the tire.”

“Don’t you go lookin’ at me, boy,” Clemmet Fencer said. “If’n I was the one shooting, I’d of hit you. Folks here ’bouts can tell you I been on these grounds, not a runnin’ through some woodlot. And know nothing about someone takin’ or cuttin’ up some tree neither—though some skunk cut our phone wires.”

“Yeah, the phone’s dead, all right,” Brad said. “At least Grant and Kate aren’t, but you two have got to quit getting into trouble.”

“Yeah, and you should talk,” she heard Grant mutter.

For a man of few words, as Grant had described Lacey’s father, he’d given quite a speech, Kate thought. She leaned on her elbows and sat up. A wave of dizziness hit her as the cabin seemed to tilt, then righted itself.

This small living room had no ceiling; she could see clear to the rafters. There appeared to be a sleeping area partitioned off as well as a small bathroom and, across the way, a small galley kitchen by the back door. It was bright—lots of windows to take advantage of the view.

Grant came over and leaned down close to her. Lacey almost jumped off the edge of the couch and moved over by Brad at the small table where her parents now sat. Kate saw Grant’s clothes were dirty and torn; hers must be, too. No wonder Lacey was washing her face. She was probably a mess.

“Like they said, someone cut their phone line here, so we can’t call Jace yet,” Grant told her. “I’ll drive you to the doctor’s in Cold Creek for a checkup. I don’t like it that it’s the second time you’ve hit your head. I’ll have to call the doc to come into his office since it’s late.”

“I’m all right,” she insisted. “But is your truck okay?”

“Except for a shot-out tire, a blasted window and a scraped, dented driver’s side. We’ll call Jace when we get down the mountain. Brad’s going to help me change the flat tire so I can drive. You just rest here, and I’ll be back soon.”

“I told you Lacey and I can drive you down, Grant,” Brad said.

Grant ignored that. He squeezed her shoulder and stroked the backs of his fingers gently against her cheek before standing. She felt he was leaving her in the lion’s den. She’d rather help change the tire, but maybe she could get something out of the Fencers about who might have shot at them—and taken Grant’s tree.

*

“Just sit down and rest if you’re woozy,” Brad told Grant as he dug the jack and other tools out of the box from the bed of Grant’s truck. “I can handle this.”

“I’m just shook up. I’ll help.”

“My sentiments exactly—I’ll help. Here and at the mill. Look, Grant, I swear I’ll just try to support you and hold Todd’s position for him until—if—he gets better.”

They squatted by the back driver’s-side tire, jacked up the truck, and then Brad pried the dented hubcap off. “Don’t talk about if,” Grant insisted. “Can you imagine Todd in a wheelchair or partially paralyzed? Operations and rehab have to bring him back, even if he never climbs again. But yeah, I can use your help at the mill. Here, I’ll help you unscrew the lug nuts. And Keith can help you oversee the mill floor when I’m not available.”