Wilderness Secrets. Sharon Dunn

as well.

      Somehow, he’d hoped she had a better plan than haphazardly running away. He spotted some brush up ahead that was tall enough to hide behind. “Keep going,” he said. “I’ll try to stop them.”

      He crouched behind the brush, peering out to see if he could spot the two other men. Pretty Boy was the first to emerge from the trees. Eddy was probably slowed down by having to carry the rifle. Pretty Boy glanced in one direction, darted a few paces in the other and then ran up the mountain. Abigail was in plain sight. But she was too far away for Pretty Boy to get a decent shot with just a handgun.

      Jesse waited with his gun drawn. Pretty Boy’s attention was on Abigail as he ran toward her. At best, Jesse would get one shot before Pretty Boy had time to react. He had to make it count. The blond man continued to fix his gaze on Abigail as she made her way up the mountain.

      Eddy emerged from the trees and took the same path as Pretty Boy, though he moved slower, bracing the rifle on his shoulder.

      Pretty Boy drew closer to the brush where Jesse was hiding. Jesse waited, gripping his gun and listening to his own heartbeat drumming in his ears. Pretty Boy’s footsteps grew louder, more intense. Jesse peered through the brush, which was just starting to leaf out.

      He jumped up, located his target and fired off a shot. Knowing that Pretty Boy could just as easily shoot him, he took off running before assessing if he’d hit his target.

      He heard a yelp behind him. Either Pretty Boy was injured or angry or both.

      Abigail had reached the top of the hill and disappeared over the other side. Jesse willed his legs to move faster. His ears detected another rifle shot just as he edged toward the top of the hill. His heart pounded from the effort of running uphill and from the threat of death that pressed ever closer.

      The other side of the hill was a boulder field that led to a river bottom, and beyond that a forest. He caught up with Abigail just as another rifle shot shattered the silence around them. The men had made it to the top of the hill. He grabbed her sleeve and pulled her toward a larger rock.

      Both of them gasped for air, taking only a moment to rest before running again. He could hear the men’s footfalls on the rocks as they closed in. Abigail headed toward the river. He couldn’t see a bridge anywhere.

      She approached the river’s edge, glanced over her shoulder as the two men gained on them, then turned back and dived into the rushing waters. He watched her as she was carried downstream. That didn’t seem like much of an escape plan.

      What choice did he have? He jumped in, as well. The freezing water shocked his system. He drifted downstream, still stunned by the cold that enveloped him. Behind him he could hear rifle shots.

      Abigail dived underwater. The tarp he was using as a rain poncho weighed him down and made it hard to maneuver against the current. He dived underwater and slipped out of it but held on to it as the river carried him farther along.

      When he resurfaced, the river had taken him around a bend. He could no longer see the pursuers. Only one of the men had been hauling a smaller backpack. Would they jump in after them or try to find another way across the river?

      He watched as Abigail swam toward the opposite shore. As the water grew shallower, she stood up and dragged herself onto the bank, flopping down in the grass on her stomach.

      The current pulled him farther downstream as he struggled to get to shore. He grabbed hold of a tree limb that hung over the water and strained to pull himself up the steep embankment. He clawed the ground and reached out to grab onto any vegetation that grew close to the shore.

      He shivered, and his body seemed to be vibrating from the exertion of the run and plunge into the cold water. He pushed himself to his feet and headed back upriver, where Abigail had come ashore.

      As he moved through the forest, the cold seemed to seep down to the marrow of his bones. It was early evening and springtime, but the water in the mountain stream had been freezing.

      Jesse heard Abigail before he saw her. It sounded like she was banging sticks together. When he found her in a clearing, she was gathering logs and twigs. Water dripped off her wet clothes. “We need to get a fire started.”

      “Was there no other option besides jumping in a freezing river?” His teeth chattered from the cold.

      “Yes, there was another option, Jesse—dying from a bullet wound.” She glared at him. “I made the best choice I could in a tough situation.”

      It was the first time she’d used his first name. All the way up the mountain before they had encountered the three men, she’d called him Mr. Santorum.

      “I would appreciate some help gathering some tinder.” She held up a trembling hand. “I’m freezing, too.”

      “They might see the smoke rising up.” He was still concerned about their safety.

      “Or they can find our frozen corpses.” Maybe it was just because she was cold and exhausted, but she didn’t seem to like being questioned about her decision. Her voice softened. “We’ll keep the fire small and build it in an area that can’t be seen from far away. A lot of this wood is wet from all the spring rain, but stuff in sheltered areas is likely to be drier.” With the handful of sticks she’d gathered, she moved deeper into the trees.

      He searched the area, finding some twigs and a couple of smaller logs that seemed pretty dry. He found her in a clearing where the trees created a sort of canopy that shielded the fire from view.

      She had gathered moss and a few twigs. She blew on the flickering flames before putting a few bigger twigs on the fire. He sat down beside her as she put some bigger logs on the fire. It smoked a bit from the dampness of the logs.

      He laid down the logs he’d found and sat beside her.

      The fire began to throw some heat. He put his palms up to it.

      She picked up the tarp from where he’d dropped it, then peeled off her coat and the vest underneath. She threw them on a nearby log, where the heat from the fire would dry them out. Then she turned toward him. “Hand me your coat. You’ll dry out faster this way.”

      He took off his coat and tossed it toward her.

      Still dripping wet, she perched close to the fire on her knees and crossed her arms over her body. “You know, I’ve been part of a team that found lost hunters in the most impossible places, and I’ve guided people to safety under extreme weather conditions. No one has ever died or been seriously injured on my watch.”

      He wasn’t sure why she was telling him this. “I can appreciate that.”

      “I have worked as a guide since I was a teenager. I come from a family of guides. Eighty percent of the people who want to come up to these remote regions are men, and every single time, I have to prove myself and be questioned in a way that I’ve never seen happen to male guides.”

      The fire crackled with a rhythm that was harmonious and comforting. As it grew, the heat surrounded him. He stared at the flames. Now he knew why she was so upset with him. “I’m sorry I questioned your choice.”

      “I don’t have a chip on my shoulder. It’s just that it gets old after a while. What I did back there probably kept us alive.”

      This wasn’t even her fight. It was his mess to untangle, and yet she felt a responsibility to get him out of the mountains at the risk of her own life. “I never should have dragged you into all this. It’s just that I couldn’t get up here on my own. I would have died.”

      In that moment, he felt how alone he was in the world. Lee had so thoroughly smeared his name that he didn’t know if anyone at the DEA would believe his innocence. He’d worked with those men and women for close to seven years, but there was no way to discern who would turn him in and who would rely on what they knew about his character.

      She stared at the fire. Her voice grew softer. “Well, whether I like it or not, we are in this together. I can’t in