Another howl, much nearer than the last one, interrupted her sob.
Kizzie dashed away the tears and pushed her sore feet into a faster pace.
Her stomach roiled from tension and hunger, any satisfaction from the beef jerky and stale biscuit of last night's supper long gone.
Up ahead, a faint light filtered into the darkening forest.
Was that a house through the trees? Her stomach tightened again, slowing her stride.
Leaves rustled in the shadows behind her, a steady rhythm drawing closer.
Something was following her. Running.
More rustled leaves.
Her face chilled.
“Help me,” she cried into the night.
The flickering light through a window blinked into view. “Please. Help.”
The yip of a coyote warned her of her assailants. Another howl erupted so close it raised the hairs on the back of her neck.
Perhaps she deserved this fate. Her choices. Her mistakes.
What sort of mother could she ever become with such a wretched beginning?
But her little baby didn't deserve it.
A growl rumbled from behind, sending chills skittering over her shoulders and forcing her into a run.
“Help!” she called again as the front porch of the house emerged through the gathering dusk. “Somebody, please. Help me.”
A boom of gunfire crippled Kizzie to her knees, and a warm rush of liquid ran down her legs.
Dear heavens. Had she been shot in the stomach? A renewed ache gripped her back.
What on earth?
Another blast thundered from ahead, followed by a yip of pain behind her. At least the gunman aimed for the coyotes, whether he was welcoming to a castaway or not. She pushed past her own hurting and rose from the ground.
Up ahead, the silhouette of a large man marched toward her, fading sunset glowing orange behind him and obscuring his face. A mountain of a man, with shoulders wider than the surrounding pines.
He raised the gun again, firing into the forest, and another coyote's cry responded.
The pain in her middle withered her to the earth, but she shuffled backward in the dry leaves as the massive man drew nearer.
“You ’bout got yourself killed, girl.” The deep rumble of his voice percolated with a strange combination of steel and tenderness. “Let's get you outta these woods.”
He tossed the rifle over his shoulder and offered a hand. Kizzie reached for it, her legs wobbly. The man caught her up before she wilted back to the ground, his face nearer, skin as brown as walnuts, eyes even darker. “Miss Kizzie?” He released a long sigh and glanced over the forest again. “What are you doing out here in the night?”
Joshua Chappell.Kizzie's bottom lip wobbled. A friend.
“Joshua.” She eked out the name on a sob. Of all the people to find her!
She started to say more, but another pain racked through her, inciting a cry.
“You're hurt, young'un.” He made a quick turn and increased his pace toward the house. “Let's get you to Nella. She'll know what do.”
