this bumpy, narrow slot of hay.
“Do it now,” Deanna instructed. “Open your door.”
Fighting every instinct, Sean pressed open the passenger door, revealing the speeding ground below, and flung the jacket over the door latch.
“Watch out for the irrigation circles,” he hollered.
“I see them,” Deanna said between clenched teeth.
Sean wanted to yell “Pause” or “Wait” or “I’m not ready.” All would be useless. The ground kept coming closer and closer, and then impact. Hitting hard, the plane bounced across the rutted ground, flattening surrounding plants. The plane’s wing clipped the closest irrigation line, sending the aluminum structure flying. The complaining sound of breaking metal hit Sean’s ears. Was that the sprinkler line or pieces of the plane busting up? His body rocked and rolled with the bucking airplane. It was like riding a bull. Hold on for the eight seconds and then he’d be able to get out and kiss the ground.
The field wasn’t an airport and no one could have ever imagined that it would be used as one, but at least the space ahead was all clear. Deanna had touched down on the open strip and now nothing hindered their progress—no trees, no houses closer than Uncle Paul’s in the distance, not even a tractor got in their way.
They would survive.
As the plane decelerated, then slowed and then stopped, they sat still, gulping deep breaths.
“You alive?” Deanna asked, her eyes closed.
Sean patted down his arms and legs, opened and closed his hands. Did everything still work?
“Yeah. Are you?”
“Well, I’m talking, so I must be.” Deanna leaned her forehead against the instrument panel, continuing to suck in ragged inhales. Her hands were shaking.
Sean put one of her shaking hands between his larger ones. “You did it again, Deanna.” He squeezed, trying to express his gratitude and his admiration of her. “It’s going to be a long time before I fly in anything smaller than a 747. But if I do, I want you to be my pilot.”
She lifted her head and offered him a wavering smile. “This baby won’t be going anywhere anytime soon.” Then she moaned. “I don’t want to go out there and see the damage to my plane.”
“Well, I don’t want to see the damage you did to my hay crop, either,” Sean said, fake-punching her on the arm. “I’ll send you the bill.”
The joke fell flat. “Hey.” He stretched his arm around her for a quick side hug. “It’s going to be okay.”
“I know that. Just give me a minute to believe it.”
“I wish I had a minute to give you, but we’ve got to get moving. We were recognized back there and with that many men, they’ve spread out. They might’ve even seen us land here.”
“Well, we can’t fly away. We have no fuel, and I’m sure the plane is too beat up.”
Sean doubted she could get him back in the air anyway, but he didn’t admit it aloud.
Deanna added, “She’ll have to sit in your field awhile until I can come back for her. I’m sorry.”
He pointed toward the distant farmhouse. “That’s my uncle’s place. He’s probably not home, but we can borrow a vehicle and try his landline.”
* * *
The door to the farmhouse wasn’t locked. It never was. As they entered the kitchen, Sean grimaced at the mess but his stomach growled. He had missed breakfast with Uncle Paul and the crew this morning, and it looked like he’d missed a feast.
Remains of the hearty morning meal were scattered everywhere. Pans, now white from the cooled grease of goose sausage and fried eggs, sat unmoved on the stove. Heavy-duty paper plates—Uncle Paul’s idea of fine china—littered the rickety oak table, while crumbs and buttered knives from hastily made toast decorated the countertop. The crew had eaten well this morning.
“Uncle Paul, you here?” Sean called, but he knew his uncle was out working. Hopefully, getting the last of the cattle rounded up. Something Sean should be helping them with.
Despite how desperate he was to get Deanna back to town in one piece, there was something about this place that made him smile. He spent more time in this kitchen than in the one in his own house because Uncle Paul was a better cook.
After his father disappeared and then Uncle Paul’s marriage failed shortly after, Paul had thrown himself all the more into being there for Sean. Uncle Paul, Sean and Sean’s mother had leaned on each other hard during those early years, supporting each other through their grief. Uncle Paul had become the mentor and father figure Sean had needed. They’d had plenty of heart-to-hearts sitting at that oak table drinking coffee.
Deanna stood by the kitchen door waiting, reminding Sean there wasn’t time for reminiscing like this.
“Sorry about the mess,” Sean apologized. “Uncle Paul can cook like no one you’ve ever known, but he’s allergic to cleaning.”
Sean lifted the ancient wall-mounted phone—probably the last left in the county—and listened for a dial tone. Nothing.
“Wish my cell worked,” he said, placing the heavy receiver back into its cradle. “We’ve never had dependable service up here as it is, but now cell, internet, landlines, they’re all gone. We’ve been cut off for two days.”
“Service has been patchy in town, too,” Deanna said. “Depending on where you’re at. Some parts of town have the newer phone lines buried underground. We should be able to find a phone to use once we get back to town.”
Pawing through the junk drawer under the phone, Sean found the key ring he was looking for. “Follow me.”
He led Deanna to the detached building at the end of the short breezeway outside the kitchen and shouldered open the old door, releasing the garage’s signature scent of diesel fuel and WD-40 spray. He reached inside and slapped around for the light switch on the interior wall.
Light flooded the small space. He kicked an empty coffee can out of his way and ushered Deanna inside, waving his hand at the rusted Ford pickup parked in front of them.
“It ain’t pretty, but it should get us back to town,” he said.
“I’m not picky,” Deanna said.
The truck was ancient. It had been old in 1970. They only used it for work around the ranch, but it was transportation, and they had to get back to town somehow. Hopefully, it wouldn’t die on them before they got there. Sean wrenched open the whining metal passenger door.
“Your chariot awaits,” he said to Deanna with a slight bow.
She rolled her eyes. “You mean the Beast awaits.”
“I thought you said you weren’t picky.”
He walked around to his own side and was about to slide into the driver’s seat when a familiar noise stopped him. Diesel engines, slamming doors, angry voices. His stomach sank to the floor.
Sean ran to the filmy window and peered out.
Deanna opened her door. “What’s going...”
“Shh, they found us,” he whispered.
Out the window, he watched the first truck pull up into the driveway. Rex Turner, along with the pilot and one other guy Sean didn’t recognize, exited the truck, their weapons raised. Sean wondered how long they’d left Nathan Reid in that duct tape before they freed him. Or had he figured out how to get out of it himself?
The men in the meadow must have split up into search groups, and this group had been assigned his uncle’s place. Sean was glad he wasn’t facing all those men at once, but fighting Nathan Reid the first time around had been hard enough. Now Reid had two other