Page 25 of Under an Oklahoma Sky

“Hold, please.”

Pulling the phone from his ear, he stared at it incredulously.

She put me on hold? Seriously?

He dropped to his knees, leaned down, and peeked under the truck to see if anyone had emerged from the tree line.

So far, so good.

Fat raindrops began pelting his back, but his attention remained split between watching for the shooter and waiting for the damn operator to get back on the line. No more gunfire sounded, but the thunder and lightning were getting closer.

When the phone line clicked, it wasn’t the female dispatcher again. “This is Sheriff Cosgrove. Who’s this?”

Adam was pretty sure the man knew exactly who was on the line before he picked up, because his animosity was glaringly clear.

“Adam Westfield. I’m at Sage’s ranch, and there’s a sniper up in the north woods shooting at me.”

“Probably a hunter. I doubt it’s anything to worry about unless it’s one of your old prison buddies paying you a visit.”

Anger coursed through him as his voice grew louder and harsher. “Are you freaking kidding me? Listen, Cosgrove…” He intentionally left off the man’s title. “…it’s not a damn hunter. Get your men out here now! Sage and her kids are on the property, and if something happens to one of them, there’ll be hell to pay. Understood?”

A harrumph came over the line, but thankfully, the man no longer argued. “I’ll send someone over.”

The call disconnected, and he fought the urge to throw the phone. By the time the sheriff got around to sending someone to investigate, he could be dead.

Dropping low in the mud that had quickly formed beneath him, he scanned the expanse between the truck and the bottom of the hill leading into the woods. Another bolt of lightning streaked across the sky, with the crack of thunder a split second behind it. He couldn’t wait anymore. He had to risk making a run for it.

Opening the door again, he kept as low as possible and crawled into the truck. He held onto the rifle and slid across the bench seat, ignoring the thousands of tiny pieces of glass. Calling for Benji to jump in after him, he cranked the key while ducking away from the open space where the driver’s window used to be. The engine roared to life as the now soaking-wet dog huddled in the passenger footwell.

Without bothering to close the door—the truck’s momentum would take care of that—he threw the vehicle into gear and gunned the accelerator. The tires spun momentarily before finding traction and sending the truck hurtling across the pasture. The tailgate was still down, and some posts and tools flew out of the bed, but that was the least of his worries.

Between the deluge pounding on the truck’s roof, the rain blowing through the broken window, and the thunder roaring overhead, he couldn’t be certain, but it appeared the shooter had ceased his ambush. Adam wasn’t taking any chances, though. The speeding truck bounced hard as it ate up the distance between the northwest pasture and Sage’s house, and he prayed he didn’t bust an axle or anything else underneath.

Moments later, he skidded to a stop beside the main barn beneath a metal overhang, hoping to keep the truck’s interior from getting completely flooded. Grabbing the rifle, he threw open the door.

“C’mon, boy!”

The two made a mad dash to the back porch of the house, which didn’t stop them from getting soaked. Adam yanked open the screen door just as Sage opened the interior one. Her eyes widened as he bolted into the kitchen, rifle in hand and Benji on his heels. Man and dog ignored the puddles they left in their wake.

Sage shut the door. “Wh-what’s wrong? Are you okay? I saw you racing in.”

“Where are the kids?” he barked, more concerned about their safety than how harsh he sounded.

“In their rooms. Adam, what’s wrong?”

Reaching around her, he locked the back door before striding through the house and setting the deadbolt on the front. Lowering his voice so the children wouldn’t hear, he said, “Someone was shooting at me from the trees above the northwest pasture.”

“What? Oh, my God! Are you sure? Were you hit?” Her gaze swept over him as her hands frantically searched for signs of blood.

He placed a shaking hand on her shoulder and tried to slow his adrenaline-fueled pulse. “Shh, Sage. I’m fine, and so is Benji. Just soaking wet, that’s all. And yes, I’m positive I was the target.”

The dog chose that moment to shake the rain from his body, sending water flying in every direction, and Adam wished he could do the same. He was soaked to the skin.

“I called 9-1-1, and the sheriff is sending some deputies over, although I’m sure the guy is long gone. The driver’s window of Evan’s truck is gone too.”

“You could’ve been killed.” She was still in shock and continued checking him for injuries, but at least she was now talking in a hushed tone. “Oh, my God! Why was someone shooting at you?”

“I have no idea, but you better believe I’m going to find out. Go check on the kids and get your pistol until the cavalry shows up.”