At the Crossroads (Buckhorn, Montana #3)(30)

With a sigh, she reached behind the seat and pulled out the vest. It was too large for her, but it might help if bullets started flying. He thought about Bessie and how she hadn’t hesitated to step between the man she loved and a killer. Culhane knew in his heart that Alexis would take a bullet for him—and vice versa.

Ahead, the dust seemed to dissipate a little, and he saw the blur of brake lights. He slowed as the dust hung in the air ahead of him. The van had turned. Or stopped. The dust began to settle, and he saw the van had turned off and was now heading east on an even-narrower dirt road.

In the passenger seat, Alexis quickly looked at the map on her phone. “This road has to dead-end.” Her gaze went to Culhane. “If I’m right about where we are, the Musselshell River is to the east. I really doubt there will be a bridge over it on this road.”

“How far before the road dead-ends?” he asked as he turned onto the narrower, less used dirt road the van had taken.

“Half a mile or so... Culhane!” she screamed at the same time there was a break in the cloud of dust—just in time for him to see something lying in the road. He slammed on his brakes making a skidding stop as he realized what it was. A body. He barely got the pickup stopped before Alexis jumped out and ran to the still form.



CHAPTER TWELVE


THE VAN BOUNCED along the rutted dirt road. Gene kept looking back and yelling for him to speed up because they were right behind them.

But when Bobby looked back, all he could see was dust churning up under their tires. He couldn’t be sure that his plan had worked.

“Give it some gas!” Gene yelled, waving the gun in his direction again.

Earlier, he’d already been having trouble staying on the road at this speed. He’d had to manhandle the wheel to keep them from going into the ditch. But every time he let up on the gas, Gene threatened to shoot him.

In his rearview mirror, he’d checked behind them again. Nothing but dust. What if they weren’t even being chased? There might not be anyone behind them. He wouldn’t have been surprised to find out that Gene had imagined seeing someone behind them after they’d turned off the highway. It wasn’t like he could trust Gene’s judgment. The man was in obvious pain and drugged up to the max.

“Can you see them?” Gene had demanded, twisting in his seat to try to look back before groaning in pain. Blood had soaked through the jacket Gene had wadded up and pressed over the wound. Bobby had wondered how much longer the man could stay conscious with all the blood loss.

“If they’re behind us,” he’d said, “I can’t see them.”

“They’re there. Take another road. That one!” Gene had said, pointing to a rutted narrow road to his left.

Bobby had taken the turn, even though the road looked as if it hadn’t been used in years. Dried weeds stood several feet high in the center of the deep ruts. If they really were being followed, they had to do something besides taking roads to nowhere.

“I know a way to slow them down,” Bobby had said, adding silently if they are back there. He just hoped Gene would go along with his plan. Otherwise, the man just might shoot him. He’d thought about throwing out Gus’s body but had quickly mentally revised his plan. “Tina. Let’s dump her out on the road. They’ll stop for her and give us time to get away.” If they were really back there. Either way, they’d be rid of her. He’d thought she might even survive.

Gene had looked over at him as if he’d lost his mind before he’d let out a curse. “You’d better hope this works. If not, you’re a dead man.”

Bobby had a bad feeling he was dead either way. The road he’d turned onto was questionable at best. Maybe it didn’t matter. There was no way they were going to outrun anyone in this old van. Not that he thought they could stay on the run, anyway. Eventually someone was going to catch up to them: if not Culhane Travis, then the law. Either way, Bobby didn’t have much hope. Gene had said he’d die before he’d go back to prison. If it came to a standoff...

Bobby couldn’t shake the feeling that his time had run out. If Gene was right and it was Culhane Travis after them, then it would soon be over. Jana had told him about her husband. When he’d recognized the ex-deputy sheriff back at the café, his heart had lodged in his throat. He’d felt fear as cold and deadly as that blade the woman at the café had plunged into Gene. If Culhane was behind them, then they were as good as dead.

LARS OLSON HAD never prayed in his life. Until now. He held the sleeping baby in his arms and prayed for Tina as sirens sounded outside. He’d done her so wrong in so many ways. He looked at Chloe and felt such a well of love that he thought he might drown in it. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered to the baby. How had he thought he could walk away from this child? From Tina?

His eyes filled with tears. He’d never been a strong man. That much was clear to him now. He’d told himself that he would only stay with Tina until the baby was born. But months later, he was still there with the two of them—and at the same time still clinging to Shirley. He’d wanted both, to stay with Tina and the baby, and to leave with Shirley. He had to have known that he would have to choose. Wasn’t that why he’d insisted on Shirley going with him this morning to have breakfast at the café and force him into a decision?

Looking down at Chloe, who’d fallen into a deep sleep, he whispered, “What is wrong with me?” and he made a swipe at his tears.