A Trace Of Memory. Valerie Hansen

as if they were keyed up and frustrated.

      By leaning slightly to the side, Emma was able to view the source of the noise. All three of the dogs Travis had taken with him were confined in a pen next to the barn and jumping at the wire gate, acting frantic to escape.

      Her throat tightened. Her pulse sped. If the dogs were there, where was Travis? Did he pen them up every night or was this evening different? There was only one way to find out.

      Donning her tennis shoes, Emma hurried down the stairs in search of Cleo. They met in the kitchen where the older woman had hold of the old dog’s collar while it whined and scratched at the back door.

      “What’s going on?”

      Cleo was clearly worried. “Don’t know. Bo all of a sudden wants out.”

      “Why not let him go?”

      “Because I don’t know what became of Travis. I heard him come back with the other dogs while you were taking your shower but then he hopped on the ATV and left again.” She kept trying to calm the antsy hound.

      “I could see from upstairs that he’d put the others in a pen. Is that normal?”

      “No. We let the young ones patrol at night to keep the wild critters away from the chickens and such.”

      “Then call the police,” Emma said, trying to mute her burgeoning fear.

      “But you said...”

      “I know what I said,” Emma replied. “But that was when I thought I’d gotten away clean. If you think Travis is in trouble you need to call the authorities.”

      “What kind of trouble?” Cleo demanded. “Who’s chasing you, girl?”

      “I don’t know. Honest, I don’t. But I sense enough to be afraid. Do you have another gun?”

      “Lots of ’em. This is hunting country. Why?”

      “Because you should go arm yourself. Now.” She reached for the collar. “I’ll hold on to Bo for you.”

      She was glad to see Cleo was taking her seriously. The sense of foreboding she’d had all along was building so rapidly it was making her light-headed.

      Alone in the kitchen, she closed her eyes for a momentary prayer, quickly coming to the conclusion she must act. But how? What could she do that would be sensible as well as useful? In the movies, a heroine always plunged into danger without a thought, often ending up in a worse fix. She wasn’t that foolish. Still, if Travis was in trouble, she also knew she couldn’t just stand there like a deer frozen in the headlights of an oncoming car and wait for the worst.

      Cleo returned with a shotgun and a box of shells. As her gaze met Emma’s she hesitated. “You used to be a good shot. Is that part of your memory gone, too, or do you still know how to handle one of these if you have to?”

      “It’s mostly the last few months and years that are missing.” She held out her hand. “Give me the gun. I know what to do.”

      “Not sure that’s a good idea,” Cleo said with a cautious shake of her head. “Not till we know what’s wrong with you. No offense, but you might not be the most levelheaded person to carry this, even if it is kinda heavy for me.”

      “You’re right. And it has been a long time since I was on the high-school skeet-shooting team.”

      “Bo’s leash is hanging over there by the door. You can handle him,” Cleo said, filling her pockets with loose shotgun shells. “I’ll tote this double-barrel, at least for a ways.”

      “Shouldn’t we wait for the sheriff?”

      “No way. They said it’d be about twenty minutes when I called.”

      “Which leaves another fifteen. You’re right. That’s too long,” Emma agreed. She reached for the leash and snapped it on the dog’s collar before picking up a heavy-duty spotlight.

      “Take it slow when you open the door and let me go out with the dog, first,” Emma warned. “Just in case.”

      What remained unsaid was the ominous thought that the first person to step through that door might be in terrible jeopardy.

      Nevertheless, Emma gathered her courage and led the way. To her surprise and relief, they made it off the porch and through the yard unscathed.

      Beyond lay a deeper darkness, the kind that could hide more than a mere threat. It could mask death. And they’d never see it coming.

      * * *

      Travis kept to the trees as much as possible even though that wasn’t the fastest way back to the ranch house. Until the last lingering rays of the sun vanished behind the hills he didn’t want to try cutting across pastures and make himself an easier target.

      After the first two shots into the ATV, he hadn’t heard any more firing. That might mean his enemies had given up, or it might mean they were hot on his trail and could draw another bead at any moment.

      Noises carried well on the still, late-evening air and were composed mostly of night birds and distant barking. “Sounds like my dogs have riled up every other canine for miles around, not to mention a few coyotes,” he murmured, pausing to rest and recheck his surroundings from the edge of the forest.

      Every window of his house glowed, making him wish he’d cautioned the women to pull the curtains and stay where they couldn’t be seen. Surely, Cleo would think of that. She was a savvy old gal who was used to using her head for something besides a place to put a hat.

      As Travis moved from tree to tree at the fringes of the rolling pasture he saw more lights come on at his place. The entire yard was now illuminated. The only advantage to that was being able to see if any strangers approached.

      He suddenly saw movement at the rear of the house and heard Bo’s distinctive baying. The old dog had struck a trail. Which meant somebody had let him out. That was not a good sign.

      Travis peered around the trunk of a massive oak and scanned the area by the barn. He could see plenty from there and none of it was to his liking.

      Two slightly built shadows had opened a pasture gate and were passing through with Bo in the lead. If he had to guess, he’d say Emma and Cleo were using the dog to track someone, probably him. Of all the lamebrained...

      He watched the figures reach the periphery of the better-lit grounds and pause. One of them flicked on a strong beam of light and directed it at the straining, baying hound.

      Travis was beside himself. Not only were the women out of the house, where they had no protection, they were lit up like a beacon, a perfect target for whoever had shot at him before.

      Waving his arms and shouting, he did the only thing he could. He broke cover and ran headlong across the pasture toward the two most important people in his life.

      A rifle cracked.

      Travis dived for cover.

      The spotlight went out.

      A woman screamed.

      * * *

      “Stay down!” Emma shouted, tugging on Cleo’s arm to bring her closer to the ground.

      “Did you see where that shot came from?”

      “No. But I think I did see somebody fall. All I got was a glimpse. Did you see it, too?”

      “Yes. Let the dog loose so we can tell which direction he goes without sticking our heads up.”

      “I think I hear sirens,” Emma said. “Must be the sheriff. Finally.”

      “Who is sure gonna wonder what became of me after I called,” Cleo added, sounding disgusted. “Think we can crawl all the way back?”

      “I doubt we’ll have to. I imagine the lights and sirens will scare off whoever’s out there.” She raised up slightly,