Echoes by Erin Quinn Page A

thought of the man last night—the cowboy with the piercing stare. Quickly she moved away and made a wide arch around the window to the other side, where she could see without being seen. She looked again in time to see his horse disappear into the woods across the road.
    She grabbed the bat and raced down the stairs, pausing only long enough to say to Caitlin, "I'm going outside for a minute. Will you be okay?"
    "Uh-huh. I wanna watch TV."
    She glanced at the bat in Tess's hand and away without comment. Maybe it was commonplace for the bat to accompany her mother on brief excursions to the front yard. Maybe she was too tired to wonder why her Aunt Tess had it in her hands. She looked as if she might nod off at any moment.
    Closing the front door behind her, Tess stepped off the porch and rounded the corner. The pine towered up to the shock of cobalt sky and brushed the wispy clouds with its blue-tinged crown. Warm sunshine beat down on the thick blanket of dried needles surrounding its base and danced across the riot of flowers and long, waving grass that stretched out to the road and the fields behind. The air smelled of thick woods, fallen leaves and rich, sun-baked earth.
    Her grip tightened on the bat and her muscles tensed in anticipation as she moved to the spot where she'd seen the horse and rider. Overhead, an enormous black bird soared with a harsh caw that jarred the uncanny silence.
    Shielding her eyes, she tilted her head back and looked at the window. The sun glared against the glass, turning it into a mirror filled with bright light. She moved a couple of steps forward, back, to the sides with the same result. Even if the man had been looking at the window, he wouldn't have been able to see in. At least partially reassured by that, she turned away and stared in the direction he'd ridden off.
    Who was he? The father of Tori's baby maybe?
    Traces of an ancient trodden trail weaved between the clumps of wild grass. The dirt was soft beneath, yet there were no hoof prints. Where she had walked, the tread of her shoes was clearly embedded in the dirt but a horse and rider had passed over the same terrain without a trace. Frowning, she widened her search, moving out on either side of the trail, but still, not a single print.
    What the hell?
    As she turned, an icy wind blustered against her back, spinning her around again. An eerie silence leeched all other movement from the air. The branches on the pine were suddenly still, the long grass and tall flowers, frozen.
    Everything unnaturally static.
    Above her, the sun flickered then dimmed, as if by a switch. Frowning, she stared up at a festering gray sky that only moments ago had been a perfect blue. Shivering in the sudden cold, she looked over her shoulder at the trail without tracks that seemed to lead to nowhere.
    Then imperceptibly, something else in the air changed. Something visceral but invisible raised all the hairs on her body and triggered the ancient fight or flight instinct within. She took a step backward while the feeling grew, amplified like an echo by the granite mountainsides surrounding her. Apprehension pulled at the pit of her stomach and she fought the urge to bolt for the house.
    In an instant the thick and unyielding clouds obliterated the blue sky. Her breath plumed in the suddenly frosty air. Goosebumps shivered beneath her light shirt and her teeth began to chatter.
    No storm could move this fast. It wasn't possible.
    "Mooollllly?"
    The echoing name pierced her like the cold, turning her in place as she grappled with her fear. Through the trees across the road, the man on horseback came into view. He wore his hat pulled low on his head and the collar of his long black wool coat turned against the vicious cold. A rifle jutted from the saddle holster.
    A shaky, unstable sound parted her lips as he moved out of the woods with a faint jingle of harnesses. Familiar, like the cowboy last night, yet not the same man.
    " Molly ?" The rider looked