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The stitch in her side throbbed.
And she needed to rest.
About a half hour later, a lot of footfalls headed toward her. People searching. Brett’s posse. Matthew used to tell her how Brett could deputize anyone to help him when he searched for criminals. Never in her wildest dreams had she ever believed that someday he and his posse would be chasing her.
They were dangerously close. She half expected Jasper to turn up again. The deputy’s Glock pressed against her side, but there was no way she was going to draw it. She held her breath as someone poked at the brush near her feet. She wanted to pull her legs up but worried that would attract attention. She said a silent prayer. A few more pokes and then the person moved on to another spot. Finally, the entire group left.
Dania’s father had taught her how to hide. He’d been tutored by his father, who had been schooled byhisfather, and so on, clear back to her great-great-grandpa Asa, who had lived most of his life in the saddle and on the range. Asa had died in the range war, and the authorities had never found his killer. Her family believed Asa had stolen the Tylers’ calves.
Before the feud between their families, Asa had fought in the Civil War. When that had ended, he’d decided to bring his family west, away from all the sorrow, and build a new life for his family. Dania had read Asa’s journal about their trek west and how he’d wanted to find rich ground to raise cattle on. And he had.
But the Tylers had owned most of the valley. So, Asa had bought as much land as he could and started his own herd. Trouble between the Blacks and the Tylers started not long after. Asa had written that if he wound up dead, a Tyler would have been behind it.
The same thing might happen to her, especially if Walter had his way. When would the hate ever stop? Matthew had hoped it would when they married. But it hadn’t. Would it ever? Again, she wondered if Matthew had been killed because of the feud. But again, she dismissed such a thought.
She heard a stirring and held still. If she were caught, they’d send her to Deer Lodge, and she didn’t know if she’d survive in that penitentiary. She didn’t want to learn the survival system between prisoners or which ones were in charge and which ones to trust. She had to stay free so she could see Jacob and hold her little boy in her arms that yearned for him. But to have that happen, she had to first find Matthew’s killer.
He’d told her Lady Justice was supposed to be blind to race, money, and power. That was what he’d been fighting for and had been one of the main reasons he’d become a lawyer. He’d wanted to help those being bullied or taken advantage of by some of the corrupt players within the system. She wondered if he’d suspected his father of being part of the system and having too much power. Maybe.
Even after everything she’d been through, she had to believe in the fairness of law and order now more than ever. She had to have faith that the truth would play out. A man had gotten away with murder, but she was bound and determined to find him.
Hours ticked by.
Her stomach growled. She’d never been so hungry in her life. Hungry and scared. Her father had been an avid outdoorsman and loved to camp and hike. He’d taught her which berries were safe to eat in the forest. He’d often said, “White and yellow kill a fellow. Purple and blue are good for you.” She didn’t dare leave her hiding place to find them.
Ignoring the gnawing in her stomach, she curled into a ball and fell asleep.
She jerked awake. It had grown dark. What had awakened her? A sound? Had Brett and his search party found her?
She waited and waited, straining her eyes to see through the darkness. How long had she been sleeping? Her stomach growled. It had turned so dark she’d never find berries to eat. Silver shadows from the full moon outlined the foliage. Nocturnal clicks, chirrs, and wing flaps filled the forest. She couldn’t believe she’d slept so long or that Brett and his search party hadn’t found her.
Something crawled onto her hand. She flipped it away and scrambled from under the tree. Standing, she brushed off her clothes and shook her hair in case a spider lurked there. She shivered, not from the cold but from twitchy nerves, though coldness soon seeped through the flannel shirt and overalls. She had to concentrate on something else.
Where exactly was she?
She’d driven by signs advertising Mosquito Springs and the campground where she’d ditched the farmer’s truck and hitched a ride. Even though warm water and getting clean appealed to her, it was too far away to backtrack. The driver of the trailer carrying the RZR had been heading farther up the mountain when they’d stopped because of the roadblock.
At the top of this mountain pass, which had to be pretty close, there was a store that sold snack foods and kitschy tourist items. Odds were high that Brett’s people had already warned the proprietor to be on the lookout for her, but she didn’t have very many options. She had to risk going there.
Gazing at the stars, she pulled on the knowledge her father had taught her and looked for the North Star. He’d told her, “If you get lost, locate the Big Dipper.”
She could almost hear his deep, fatherly voice as she now recognized the Dipper staring down on her. “Find the Pointers, the two stars at the end of the bowl farthest from the handle, and then draw an imaginary line to the brightest star. There you will see Polaris. The Polar Star.”
She followed his instructions and found it. Polaris, or the North Star, was the only one that kept its place in the sky. She faced it and knew she was going north. To her right was east, to her left west, and behind her south.
The small store stood on the mountaintop, which had to be northeast from here. Aware of every noise and grateful she had the deputy’s gun in her pocket, she headed out. Bears were often more active after dark, and she would be less likely to see them in the shadows until they attacked.
She had to stop thinking of hazards waiting to pounce. She had to move forward. Again, like last night, a full moon provided some light.
She wished she had good hiking boots, but she needed to dwell on positives.
“At night, you can enjoy the stars above, breathe fresh mountain air, and dip yourself into the peacefulness of mother earth,” her father had said.
Tonight, such peacefulness seemed lost as she continued to climb the mountain. Her dad had died shortly after she and Matthew had moved into their home. On his last visit, around Christmastime, he’d stayed a few days with them. He’d never been too religious, but he enjoyed the story of the Christ child born in a stable. One night, she’d found her father in the living room, sitting near the fireplace and watching the flickering flames. He’d turned in early, so it had surprised her to find him there.
“What is it, Dad? Do you have a headache? I have Tylenol, Ibuprofen, aspirin. Whatever you prefer.” She’d tried to keep a stockpile of over-the-counter medications in her cupboard next to the sink just in case of an emergency.
“No. I’m fine.” He’d patted the cushion beside him on the sofa.
