Breaking Free: A Colorado High Country Crossover Novel, Pamela Clare [i can read book club .TXT] 📗

It was delicious, especially the pancakes. “If I stay here much longer, I’ll have to buy new jeans.”

Jack chuckled. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

After breakfast, Winona followed Jack out to the barns, Emily skipping along beside her. “Have you heard anything from Nate?”

Jack nodded. “They picked up the trail and followed it onto Forest Service land. That was about an hour ago.”

An hour ago.

They’ll be fine. They know what they’re doing.

Jack opened the barn door. “Emily, why don’t you give Winona the grand tour?”

Emily led Winona inside, the mingled scents of fresh hay, leather, and horse manure in the air.

“Buckwheat is my horsy. Grandpa Jack and Daddy gave him to me, but you can ride him if you like.”

“That’s very kind of you, Emily. Thank you.”

Then Winona saw them—twelve beautiful palomino mares, their coats ranging from darker chocolate tones to golden to misty silver. “Oh, Jack, they’re beautiful.”

She had always loved horses.

Emily led Winona to the first stall. “These are our mares. Most of them are in foal. This is Baby Doe.”

“Hello, Baby Doe.” She petted the horse’s muzzle. “Aren’t you sweet?”

The mare whickered, nudged at Winona’s hand.

“Sorry, I don’t have any—”

Jack handed her a carrot.

“Thanks.” Winona held out her hand with the carrot resting on her palm.

Baby Doe picked it up with her lips and crunched contentedly, Winona’s gaze moving over her with a professional eye.

“She’s healthy. Nice straight legs. She’s got flawless conformation and balance.”

“You know horses.”

Winona patted Baby Doe’s neck. “I know a little. I considered specializing in equine medicine but decided to focus on wildlife instead. What got you into breeding quarter horses?”

“That was my father’s decision. My grandfather had put real effort into breeding his mares. They’re important to cattle ranchers. He sold some of the foals and made a name for himself. My father just took that a step further and invested in a few prize colts. I learned what I know from him.”

Emily tugged on Winona’s coat sleeve. “Come meet Clara Brown.”

Winona recognized some of the names as honoring important women in Colorado history. In addition to Baby Doe and Clara Brown, there were, among others, Molly Brown, Chipeta, and Isabella Bird. Winona gave each of them a carrot and then followed Emily to another part of the barn to meet Buckwheat and a few other geldings.

Buckwheat was big for a quarter horse and very calm and gentle.

Jack lifted the saddle onto Buckwheat’s back. “We use him for equine therapy. He’s a big, old softie, aren’t you, boy?”

Winona walked with Emily as she led Buckwheat into an enormous riding barn and over to a mounting block. “He trusts you. I can see that.”

“I love Buckwheat.”

“I can see that, too.” Winona was eager to ride, but she could see how much Emily wanted to be in that saddle. “Can you show me how to ride?”

“Sure!” Emily climbed into the saddle.

Winona couldn’t help but smile at the child’s joy as she rode around the riding barn, the horse’s hooves churning up sand. “She rides well.”

“Of course, she does.” Jack chuckled.

A buzzing sound.

He drew his smartphone out of his pocket, scrolled through a message. “It looks like Deputy Marcs, Nate, and Jason are closing in.”

Jason stopped at Deputy Marcs’ signal, weapon in hand. The ground had leveled out, and there were clear signs that their poacher was living nearby—multiple four-wheeler tracks crisscrossing, trees marked with yellow tape, boot tracks with telltale circles in the center of the heel, trash, stumps of trees that had been cut down.

Marcs spoke quietly. “I can see a large tent up ahead, and there’s the four-wheeler. We’ll hold here for now. I’m requesting backup.”

She made the call, then turned to Jason and Nate. “Remember that the two of you are here in an advisory capacity. This is public land. Those firearms you’re carrying are for personal protection, not to go vigilante.”

“Copy that.” The last thing Jason needed before his disciplinary hearing was some kind of firearms charge in Colorado.

Nate nodded. “I hear you Lima Charlie.”

BAM!

Bark sprayed like shrapnel from the pine next to Jason’s head, hitting his face.

Shit.

He dropped to the ground, crawled backward, taking shelter behind a boulder, Nate and Deputy Marcs doing the same.

BAM!

Deputy Marcs grabbed her handset, called it in. “Eight sixty-five, shots fired. I say again, shots fired.”

She quickly gave dispatch the details.

Jason was used to having a radio, so it was strange to be privy to only one side of the conversation.

“They’re sending in everyone they’ve got, locking down all roads in this area, and updating the Forest Service guys, but it will take them at least an hour to reach us. We’ve been ordered to back off.”

“Fuck.” Nate wasn’t happy. “We could fall back to the creek, take up defensive positions, and wait there.”

That made sense to Jason. “If that’s how he’s getting in and out of his little camp, that might hold him in until backup arrives.”

The decision ultimately rested with Deputy Marcs. “Let’s do it. Stay low.”

An engine revved to life.

“Shit.” Deputy Marcs looked carefully around the boulder. “He’s rabbiting, heading north on the four-wheeler. There’s a freaking wolf with him.”

She called that in as well.

Jason took the chance, broke cover, saw just the back of the four-wheeler and the wolf as the vehicle disappeared into the forest. “He’s going to be easy to track.”

“Where does he think he’s going?” Nate looked perplexed. “There are only crags and cliffs in that direction.”

Jason tried to put himself in the poacher’s shoes. “Maybe he’s hoping to outflank us or come up on us from behind. Or maybe he thinks he can find a way out.”

“I’ve been ordered not to pursue, but no one said we couldn’t move into his camp.” Rifle raised, Deputy Marcs slowly got to her feet. “Chiago, have you seen any evidence that there’s more than this one bastard?”

“No. Nothing.” He stood.

Deputy Marcs looked at his face. “You’re bleeding.”

Jason held a hand to his cheek, found deep scratches on his cheek and forehead. “It’s nothing—just some flying