Betrayed by Wodke Hawkinson Page A

nonchalant toss, and stood still while he harnessed her to the loaded travois. He covered Old Reliable with the netting once again. It wasn’t a perfect camouflage, but she would be difficult to spot if a person wasn’t specifically looking for her. A light mist fell as Lance finished tying his purchases down; the pressure in the air swelled uneasily. He took a deep satisfied breath, drawing the tangy ozone smell into his lungs. Mountain thunderstorms always rocked his senses with their deep rolling booms, like massive explosions, so close it felt like he was standing in the heavens between warring clouds. The sense of anticipation worked on him like a drug as the earth prepared to be pounded, waiting impatiently for its thirst to be quenched. The scent of the trees and plants reached toward the coming rain as pheromones to a lover. For Lance, it was a full-body sensation when Mother Nature yanked up her stormy skirts and danced her brazen jig across the land. He could never get enough.
    With a sound like a thousand wild horses thundering through a high pass, the storm arrived. Lance delighted in the rumbles, felt them reverberate in his bones, and thought of God. Gilbert seemed unimpressed with nature’s outburst, but she picked up her pace and they almost made it back to the cabin before the rain fell in sweeping sheets.
    Lance unhitched Gilbert at the door of the shed. Pulling the candy bar from his pocket, he quickly peeled away the wrapper, and gave her the sweet treat. He could swear she smiled as she took it from his hand. Chewing, she ambled into the shed. Belinda was already inside and gave him a baleful glare as if to admonish him for being silly enough to stand out in the rain. Her bossy attitude made him grin, even as the icy water ran down his face and inside his jacket. He tugged the bales and feed into the other side of the shed and filled the goats’ trough through the slot he had built into the structure for just that purpose. Before heading to his cabin, he tucked the travois inside the shed and shut the doors, protecting the feed on one side, and safely enclosing the goats on the other side. They could wander tomorrow, but tonight they would be sheltered and cozy.
    On his way back to the cabin, he closed the door on the small poultry shed and secured it against predators. He heard the soft rustling of wings, and a hen scolded him for the disturbance with a few quiet clucks. The ducks were hopefully ensconced with the chickens, but it was too dark to tell.
    His muscles ached pleasantly, the result of honest hard work. He was tired, and that’s the way he liked to end his days. Tired, too tired to think. Too tired to remember. Tomorrow he would take Old Reliable into town and retrieve his bike. For tonight, he wanted only dry clothes, a hot meal, a book to make him drowsy, and his soft warm bed.
     

 
    Chapter 9
    Morning arrived. Its weak light barely penetrated the grimy window glass, leaving the room dim and cold. Brook slowly became aware of the sounds of a waking household. Someone said they needed coffee. Someone else swore, telling them to make it themselves. Brook remembered where she was and cowered deeper under the mattress. A sour smell filled her nostrils, and with a shock of embarrassment, she realized it was coming from her own body.
    She could hear kitchen noises; pots and pans were banging against each other and cabinet doors opened and shut. Obviously, breakfast was being taken. Brook's stomach growled its willingness to eat, but she suppressed the need. Food wasn’t what she needed right now. What she needed was to escape from this hell.
    The door to the room crashed open and heavy footfalls crossed the threshold. "What the fuck!” Jase’s voice blared. “Where the hell did the bitch go?”
    “What?” Benny asked, drawing nearer. "Hey, where did she go?”
    “That’s what I asked you, dumbfuck!” Jase retorted.
    Brook held her breath; maybe they wouldn’t find her. Maybe they