Page 122 of Set It Right
“Right.” I nodded, tamping down the edge of panic slicing into my gut. It’d do me no good to let my imagination run away from me. “I’m going to do just that. Thanks, Melanie.”
She gave me a tight smile. “Of course.”
She looked like she had something else to say, but when she didn’t come right out with it, I spun on my heel, done with waiting around. I booked it down the hall, through the lobby and out of the resort.
Outside, the air had cooled. The sun hovered low, stretching long shadows across the grounds, but there was still a good deal of light. I wasn’t worried.
Well…not really.
When I reached the barn, a couple hands were watering the horses. They noticed me, giving me waves as they went about doing their jobs. I moved straight for Dusty’s stall. She lifted her head the moment she saw me, soft-brown eyes alert, ready for anything.
“Hey, girl.” I reached for her halter. “We’re taking a quick ride.”
I worked as fast as I could at securing her saddle without getting sloppy. I checked everything twice out of habit then grabbed a flashlight and clipped my radio to my belt.
Still nothing from Zara on the walkie.
Tom, Caleb’s right-hand man, was heading into the barn as I exited. He flicked the bill of his hat. “You headed out on a ride?”
“Meeting up with Zara,” I explained. “They should have been back over an hour ago. I thought I’d head out on the trail to make sure they’re doing okay.”
“You never know what could keep ‘em. No doubt they’re on their way.”
“No doubt,” I agreed without feeling it. “We’ll probably all be back soon.”
“I’ll keep a lookout,” he said, sending me on my way.
A few minutes later, Dusty and I were moving at a steady lope toward the north trailhead.
A ways out on the trail, I spotted a plume of smoke rising in the distance, though, as far off as it was, it wasn’t too concerning. A few years back, a wildfire had burned about four-hundred acres on the ranch, but it hadn’t come anywhere near any of our structures or animals.
Fires happened. The land out here was so dry in the summer it became a tinderbox. A bolt of lightning or the smallest spark could burst the tumbleweeds into flames.
Worry niggled at me anyway. Seemed like a bad omen to see that smoke when Zara was out here, running late, not answering on her walkie.
I pushed Dusty a little faster.
If they’d taken the overlook route, I should’ve seen them by now. Out here, there weren’t a lot of places to hide.
I saw nothing. No riders. No glint of tack. Just empty land as far as the eye could see.
“Zara,” I muttered, scanning the horizon again.
Maybe they’d slowed down. Maybe Zane had complained his way into a break. Maybe—well, there were a lot of possibilities. More than I could think of.
I rose slightly in the saddle as we crested a small hill.
Still nothing.
I was losing light fast. Dusk always came quickly out here. One minute, it seemed like you had time, and the next, it’d all run out.
I reached for my radio. “Zara, you copy?” All I got was static.
Clipping the walkie to a strap on the saddle, I swallowed the surge of frustration.
Zara was responsible. Smarter and more capable than anyone I knew. If something was wrong, she would’ve called it in.
Unless she couldn’t.
