On the Run

  No, not over. Because Marvot’s deeds lived on. It was because of him that Frankie was wandering around in this sandstorm. He might still reach out from the dead to kill her. “Frankie.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Kilmer was limping back toward the SUV. “We’ll go on to the oasis and round up a search party to go after her.”

  “Wait.” She caught up with him. “Sit down and let me put a pressure bandage on your leg. Is it bleeding?”

  “Not much.” He kept on going. “No time.”

  “If it’s bleeding at all, it has to be bandaged. It will only take me a minute.”

  “I told you.” He had reached the SUV and was awkwardly trying to get into the driver’s seat. “It’s not important.”

  “It’s important.” She pushed him toward the passenger seat. “I’ll drive.” She got into the driver’s seat and grabbed the first-aid kit from the backseat. “Stop being a martyr. It doesn’t become you.” She cut his pant leg and spread it to reveal the wound. The bullet had gone through the flesh, but it was bleeding more than he’d claimed. “You’d blister any one of your team for ignoring a wound.”

  “I have to get to Frankie.” His lips twisted. “I’m surprised you want to waste even a minute on me.”

  “It’s not a waste.” She put on the pressure bandage. “You’re not a waste, Kilmer.”

  He went still. “No?”

  She finished the bandaging, turned, and started the engine. “No.”

  Donavan came out of the tent to meet them when the SUV pulled into the oasis. “No Frankie. I sent Vazquez and Blockman to look for any track. Nothing. We don’t even know what direction she took.” He looked at Grace. “Sorry. God, I’m sorry. If she’d just stayed put, we’d have scooped her up with no problem.”

  “She was scared for the colt.” She jumped out of the SUV. “We have to find her, Donavan.”

  “I’ve already organized another search party.” He looked up at the sky. “I issued Blockman one of those GPS beacons Kilmer brought, and we’ll know if he finds her. The storm’s slowing down, but we still can’t chance a helicopter. Dammit, did Adam’s weatherman tell you how long it was going to last, Kilmer?”

  “No.” Kilmer got out of the SUV. “But if I can get through, I’ve got to call Adam and get him to bring his men here to help.” He headed for the tent. “I’ll ask if Hassan’s toothache is going away.”

  “You’re limping,” Donavan said. “Did you run into trouble?”

  “Marvot,” Grace said. “And he needs that leg cleaned and rebandaged before he takes off again.”

  “Marvot,” Donavan repeated. “And may I hope that you took the bastard out?”

  “He’s dead. Grace blew him to kingdom come.” Kilmer went into the tent.

  “Excellent,” Donavan said to Grace. “At least something’s going right.”

  At the moment she couldn’t see anything right in the world. Why didn’t this storm stop? “You’re sure none of Marvot’s men saw Frankie leave?”

  “I guarantee they would have told me. If the storm lets up enough, we’ll put that helicopter in the air and we’ll be able to find her.”

  “We can’t wait.” Grace’s hands clenched into fists. “She’s just a little girl. She could die out there.”

  “I know. I know. We’re going out again in another direction as soon as the team gets back to camp.”

  And probably find nothing, she thought in agony. The desert was huge. Yet in this storm Frankie and the colt could be only a few miles away and they wouldn’t see them. Think. There had to be a way.

  She stiffened. Perhaps there was a—

  She headed for the tent into which Kilmer had disappeared. “Let me know when the search team gets back.”

  The search team arrived back at camp twenty minutes later.

  Frankie wasn’t with them.

  Grace stood watching the practically unrecognizable, bedraggled men come toward the oasis. It was what she had expected, but it still caused the panic to soar. How long could Frankie survive out there?

  “Adam’s here, Grace,” Kilmer said from behind her.

  She turned to face him. “Did he bring them?”

  “Yes.” His lips tightened. “It’s crazy. It won’t work.”

  “It could. I can’t think of anything else to do. The storm’s lessening, but it’s still stopping and starting every ten minutes or so. I don’t want to wait for that damn helicopter.” She turned and started walking toward the group of men gathered by the corral. “Which one is your sheikh?”

  “I’ll introduce you.” Kilmer had caught up with her. “Grace Archer, Sheikh Adam Ben Haroun.”

  The man who turned to face her was tall, dark, and somewhere in his late thirties. He had an interesting face that looked more Western than Middle Eastern. He bowed. “I’m delighted to meet you. I regret that it’s in such sad circumstances. My people will do everything possible to find your little girl.”

  “Thank you.” Her gaze went beyond him to the horse trailer. “And thank you for bringing the horses.”

  He shrugged. “My handlers were delighted to be rid of them. They were puzzled as to how to get them out of the trailer. It’s not that my men aren’t skilled, but these horses are . . . different.”

  “I’ll get them out of the trailer.”

  “And why?”

  “I’m going to let them have a try at finding Frankie.”

  “In this storm?”

  “It’s not quite as bad now. It’s stopping and starting. Did Kilmer ask you about the protective hoods?”

  The Sheikh nodded. “You were right. Since we live in the desert we’ve had to use specially constructed devices occasionally to protect the horses’ eyes and other orifices. Though we prefer not to travel at all during this kind of weather.”

  But his was a nomadic tribe, and it was natural that there’d be circumstances when it was necessary. It was the answer she had hoped for. “And you brought two of them with you?”

  “Yes, but horses don’t like the device. It causes them to sweat. They’ll probably panic and you’ll lose them too.”

  “They won’t panic. I’ll work with them. I’ll be with them.” She hoped she was telling the truth. The horses had been very close to panic before she’d gotten them into the trailer. “It’s a chance I’ve got to take. My daughter has the mare’s colt with her. I’m hoping that instinct will lead them toward her colt. I’ve heard of it happening before.”

  “Them?” Kilmer asked. “You’re taking both of them? All you need is the mare.”

  “That’s what I thought at first, but they’ve been together all their lives. They’re the Pair. The mare is nervous without him. I can’t be sure how she’d react if I turned her loose by herself.” She opened the trailer door and pulled down the ramp. “I can’t stand here and talk. I have to get them ready to go. Thank heaven, the sand’s not so stinging now.”

  “I’m going with you,” Kilmer said.

  “No, you’re not. You’re a stranger to them. I told you that the horses are going to be nervous enough. I want them to focus on Frankie and the colt. Give me a GPS beacon and you can zero in on me when I’ve found them.” She started up the ramp. “In the meantime Donavan and Robert can go out with another team and try to find her. We need to explore all the avenues we can.”

  “And I’m supposed to twiddle my thumbs? No way.”

  “Do what you like. You’re not going with me. Even if you didn’t have a bum leg, you’d be a handicap.” She went into the trailer. Jesus, how much she wanted to have him with her. She was scared and he always made her feel stronger. She was tired of being alone. She was tired of being without him.

  Well, she was alone in this. Except for Charlie, except for Hope. So get to it.

  She gently stroked the stallion’s neck.

  Hello, Charlie. I didn’t expect to see you this soon, but we have a problem. . . .

  19

  The wind was picking up again. It was hard to breathe.

/>   How long had she been out here?

  Hours?

  Probably not. They might not have been gone from the oasis for long. It was hard to tell. It seemed as if she was in a time warp.

  Charlie’s breath was laboring through the clear plastic mask over his eyes and nose. The bottom was open to allow air circulation, but the air was still thick with sand. Hope seemed to be doing a little better.

  Charlie stopped and lifted his head.

  Keep on going, Charlie. Where the hell is that wonderful instinct? We have to find them.

  Charlie suddenly started forward. Then turned in another direction and struck out at a faster clip. Hope fell in behind him.

  That’s not the way it’s supposed to go. Hope is supposed to be leading this time. She’s the mother, dammit.

  But Hope was used to following Charlie. Grace could only pray that she would assert her dominance when that maternal instinct kicked in.

  The sand was thicker on this dune ridge, but she was disoriented and couldn’t tell how close they were to the slope of the dune.

  Charlie slipped, skidded, and caught himself. Grace barely managed to keep from falling off him.

  Hope neighed uneasily.

  I’m scared too. It’s like being lost in hell. But if I’m this scared, what must Frankie be feeling?

  Charlie was going down, straight down the dune, slipping, skidding, jolting.

  On the third jolt she catapulted over his head.

  Darkness.

  She shook her head to clear it and nearly threw up.

  “Charlie?” She couldn’t see him. She couldn’t see anything but sand and darkness that came and went. Get to the signal beacon in her pocket. Press the button. Tell Kilmer where she was.

  She nearly screamed when she tried to move her right arm. Something was wrong with her shoulder. . . .

  She fumbled with her left hand until she found the beacon and pressed it. Come and get me, Kilmer. I fouled up. It’s over to you. You have to find Frankie.

  “Charlie!”

  There he was, only a few feet away, with Hope a few feet behind him.

  She tried to sit up and then fell back down as pain surged through her. She drew a deep breath and waited for the pain to subside. She couldn’t leave the horses alone and helpless when she was helpless herself. They might panic and hurt themselves. The storm had subsided enough again so that the sand was a stinging annoyance but not a blinding threat. She crawled over to Charlie and slowly got to her knees. In another minute she managed to get to her feet. She checked the security of the plastic mask over his head and then did the same for Hope.

  You’re on your own. Go back to the corral, Charlie. Take Hope home.

  He didn’t move.

  Go back to the corral. What are you waiting for?

  He neighed and didn’t move.

  Go on!

  He turned and in another moment he and Hope had vanished behind the veil of sand.

  She sank back down in the sand and buried her head in her left arm.

  “Okay, Kilmer, where are you?”

  And, Frankie, baby, where are you?

  Grace!”

  “Here.” She struggled up on one elbow. “Here, Kilmer.”

  He was suddenly there, kneeling beside her. “What happened?”

  “I screwed up. I was stupid. I fell. . . . You’ll have to find Frankie. Search this area. Charlie acted as if he’d zeroed in on a direction right before I fell. Hurry.”

  “Donavan and Blockman and the team are right behind me. Where are you hurt?”

  “My shoulder, I think. Did you see Charlie and Hope? I sent them back to the oasis. Charlie’s smart, and I hoped that he’d understand and—”

  “I didn’t see them. Which shoulder?”

  “Right.”

  He was feeling her arm and then her shoulder. “I don’t think there’s a break. I’d bet it’s out of the socket.”

  “Then put it back in the socket and let me go find Frankie.”

  He shook his head and got to his feet. “I think I’ll leave that up to Donavan.”

  She stared at him in disbelief. “What?”

  “You left me at that camp and went off on your own. I let you do it because your argument made sense. But that argument’s gone down the tube. I’m not letting you hobble around the desert in pain when I can search as well as you can.” He started up the dune. “I’ll tell Donavan I found you and I’ll let you know when I find my daughter.” He glanced over his shoulder. “My daughter, Grace. I’m not being cheated of my chance to save her. She belongs to me.”

  “Damn you, Kilmer. Fix my shoulder.”

  He didn’t answer. He was already halfway up the dune.

  “Damn. Damn. Damn.” She could feel the tears sting her eyes. She was going to murder him.

  “Donavan!” she shouted. “Donavan!”

  Kilmer ran into Donavan at the top of the dune. “Grace has a dislocated shoulder. Put it back into the socket, but take your time about it. She’s going to be in pretty bad pain, and I want to find Frankie before she goes through that hell.” He turned to Blockman. “Grace thought there might be a chance Frankie was in this area. You go east with Vazquez and I’ll go west.”

  “I’m the one who’s going to go through hell,” Donavan called after him. “She’ll know that I’m stalling.”

  “Probably. Deal with it.”

  “Bastard.” Donavan paused. “Good luck, Kilmer.”

  “Thanks.”

  Luck. He’d need all the good fortune he could beg, borrow, or steal. Such a little girl to have such a powerful hold on all of them. Anything could have happened to her in this storm, and he’d never been more frightened in his life.

  No, that wasn’t true. When he’d seen Grace lying hurt in the sand, it had scared the living hell out of him.

  Forget Grace. She was safe.

  Think of Frankie. Find Frankie.

  Grace had said she might be near. He hoped to God she was right. The storm was now a thin veil of grit and sand, but he could still miss her.

  Call her. Keep on calling her.

  He took off his face mask. “Frankie! Frankie, answer me!”

  No answer.

  “Frankie!”

  Frankie!”

  God, his voice was cracked and hoarse. How long had he been shouting her name? Fifteen minutes? Thirty minutes? His throat was dry and sore from inhaling sand.

  “Frankie!”

  Maybe she couldn’t answer. Maybe she was hurt or—

  “Frankie!” he shouted desperately. “It’s Jake. Answer me.”

  No answer.

  “Frankie!”

  A faint sound came through the whistling wind.

  He stopped still. A cry?

  “Frankie?”

  The sound came again, to the left, down the dune.

  And it wasn’t a human cry.

  It was a neigh, a horse’s cry.

  And Frankie had taken the colt.

  He stumbled down the dune, slipping and sliding.

  Why hadn’t Frankie answered? If she was conscious, she must have heard him. He’d been right on top of her. Maybe it wasn’t Frankie. Maybe the colt had wandered away from her. Christ, he didn’t want to think about that.

  “Frankie!”

  Then he saw the blanket-covered heap in the sand at the bottom of the dune.

  “Shit!” He was down there in seconds. He tore off the blanket.

  Frankie was curled up next to the colt, her arms around him. Her face was pale and crusted with sand, her eyes tight shut.

  Alive?

  Her eyes slowly opened. “Jake?”

  God. His throat was so tight with emotion that he couldn’t talk. He nodded jerkily.

  She hurled herself up into his arms. “I thought it might be Marvot. He wants to hurt the colt.”

  “I know.”

  She wriggled. “You’re holding me too tight. I can’t breathe.”

  “Sorry,” he said unevenly. “I??
?m new at this. And I’ve been a little worried about you. So has your mother. We’ll have to get you back to her right away.”

  “She’s okay? I was scared that Marvot would—”

  “Marvot won’t bother us any longer. And your mother is fine. She hurt her shoulder a little searching for you, but nothing serious. Now let’s get you out of here.” He pressed his beacon. “Is the colt okay?”

  “Fine.” She made a face. “But Maestro’s not too bright yet. He wouldn’t stay under the blanket. I kept telling him that we had to hide, but I guess he didn’t understand. I was wishing that Mom was here.”

  The colt was trying to get to his feet.

  “See?” Frankie said in disgust.

  “At least he was bright enough to let me know you were down here.”

  “Oh, that wasn’t the colt. That was Charlie.”

  “Charlie?”

  “Charlie and Hope. They’re over there.” She nodded to the left. “They came over an hour ago. Did they run away?”

  “No, they didn’t run away.” Now he could make out the Pair through the haze of sand. The driving wind had practically disappeared, thank God. “They were looking for you.”

  “You know, I thought maybe they might be. Charlie kind of stood there in front of us like he was standing guard. And he doesn’t really like me. But maybe he was taking care of the colt. He’s his sire, you know. I guess it makes a difference.”

  He stood her up and began to dust the crusted sand off her. Not that it was going to do much good. “You can bet on it.”

  Donavan’s beacon went off while he was finishing up Grace’s sling. He stiffened and looked down at it. “That’s Kilmer. He must have found Frankie.”

  Grace threw his hand aside and struggled to her feet. “Let’s go.”

  He nodded. “But he’s going to have all kinds of help. Every man in the team and a good many of Adam’s men will be pouring across these dunes when they see the beacon.”

  “Let’s go.”

  “Just thought I’d tell you.” He tried to help her up the dune, but she shook him off. “Even though you’re in no mood to listen to me.”