Deliverance at Cardwell Ranch. B.J. Daniels
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been back to Montana since his parents divorced and his mother took him and his brothers to Texas to live. He’d been too young to remember much. But he’d found he couldn’t say no to Dana. He’d heard too many good things about her from his brothers.
Also, what choice did he have after missing his brother Tag’s wedding last July?
As he slowed for another tight curve, a gust of wind shook the rented SUV. Snow whirled past his windshield. For an instant, he couldn’t see anything. Worse, he felt as if he was going too fast for the curve. But he was afraid to touch his brakes—the one thing his brother Tag had warned him not to do.
Don’t do anything quickly, Tag had told him. And whatever you do, don’t hit your brakes. You’ll end up in the ditch.
He caught something in his headlights. It took him a moment to realize what he was seeing before his heart took off at a gallop.
A car was upside down in the middle of the highway, its headlights shooting out through the falling snow toward the river, the taillights a dim red against the steep canyon wall. The overturned car had the highway completely blocked.
Austin hit his brakes even though he doubted he stood a chance in hell of stopping. The SUV began to slide sideways toward the overturned car. He spun the wheel, realizing he’d done it too wildly when he began to slide toward the river. As he turned the wheel yet again, the SUV slid toward the canyon wall—and the overturned car.
He was within only a few feet of the car on the road, when his front tires went off the road into the narrow snow-filled ditch between him and the granite canyon wall. The deep snow seemed to grab the SUV and pull it in deeper.
Austin braced himself as snow rushed up over the hood, burying the windshield as the front of the SUV sunk. The ditch and the snow in it were much deeper than he’d thought. He closed his eyes and braced himself for when the SUV hit the steep rock canyon wall.
To his surprise, the SUV came to a sudden stop before it hit the sheer rock face.
He sat for a moment, too shaken to move. Then he remembered the car he’d seen upside down in the middle of the road. What if someone was hurt? He tried his door, but the snow was packed around it. Reaching across the seat, he tried the passenger side. Same problem.
As he sat back, he glanced in the rearview mirror. The rear of the SUV sat higher, the back wheels still partially up on the edge of the highway. He could see out a little of the back window where the snow hadn’t blown up on it and realized his only exit would be the hatchback.
He hit the hatchback release then climbed over the seat. In the back, he dug through the clothing he’d brought on the advice of his now “Montana” brother and pulled out the flashlight, along with the winter coat and boots he’d brought. Hurrying, he pulled them on and climbed out through the back into the blinding snowstorm, anxious to see if he could be of any help to the passengers in the wrecked vehicle.
He’d waded through deep snow for a few steps before his feet almost slipped out from under him on the icy highway. No wonder there had been accidents and the highway had closed to all but emergency traffic. The pavement under the falling snow was covered with glare ice. He was amazed he hadn’t gone off the road sooner.
Moving cautiously toward the overturned car, he snapped on his flashlight and shone it inside the vehicle, afraid of what he would find.
The driver’s seat was empty. So was the passenger seat. The driver’s air bag had activated then deflated. In the backseat, though, he saw something that made his pulse jump. A car seat was still strapped in. No baby, though.
He shined the light on the headliner, stopping when he spotted what looked like a woman’s purse. Next to it was an empty baby bottle and a smear of blood.
“Hello?” he called out, terrified for the occupants of the car. The night, blanketed by the falling snow, felt too quiet. He was used to Texas traffic and the noise of big-city Houston.
No answer. He had no idea how long ago the accident had happened. Wouldn’t the driver have had the good sense to stay nearby? Then again, maybe another vehicle had come from the other side of the highway and rescued the driver and baby. Strange, though, to just leave the car like this without trying to flag the accident.
“Hello?” He listened. He’d never heard such cold silence. It had a spooky quality that made him jumpy. Add to that this car being upside down in the middle of the highway. What if another vehicle came along right now going too fast to stop?
Walking around the car, he found the driver’s side door hanging open and bent down to look inside. More blood on the headliner. His heart began to pound even as he told himself someone must have rescued the driver and baby. At least he hoped that was what had happened. But his instincts told him different. While in the barbecue business with his brothers, he worked as a deputy sheriff in a small town outside Houston.
He reached for his cell phone. No service. As he started to straighten, a hard, cold object struck him in the back of the head. Austin Cardwell staggered from the blow and grabbed the car frame to keep from going down. The second blow caught him in the back.
He swung around to ward off another blow.
To his shock, he came face-to-face with a woman wielding a tire iron. But it was the crazed expression on her bloody face that turned his own blood to ice.
Austin’s head swam for a moment as he watched the woman raise the tire iron again. He’d disarmed his fair share of drunks and drugged-up attackers. Now he only took special jobs on a part-time basis, usually the investigative jobs no one else wanted.
Even with his head and back aching from the earlier blows, he reacted instinctively from years of dealing with criminals. He stepped to the side as the woman brought the tire iron down a third time. It connected with the car frame, the sound ringing out an instant before he locked an arm around her neck. With his other hand, he broke her grip on the weapon. It dropped to the ground, disappearing in the falling snow as he dragged her back against him, lifting her off her feet.
Though she was small framed, she proved to be much stronger than he’d expected. She fought as if her life depended on it.
“Settle down,” he ordered, his breath coming out as fog in the cold mountain air. “I’m trying to help you.”
His words had little effect. He was forced to capture both her wrists in his hands to keep her from striking him as he brought her around to face him.
“Listen to me,” he said, putting his face close to hers. “I’m a deputy sheriff from Texas. I’m trying to help you.”
She stared at him through the falling snow as if uncomprehending, and he wondered if the injury on her forehead, along with the trauma of the car accident, could be the problem.
“You hit your head when you wrecked your car—”
“It’s not my car.” She said the words through chattering teeth and he realized that she appeared to be on the verge of hypothermia—something else that could explain her strange behavior.
“Okay, it’s not your car. Where is the owner?”
She glanced past him, a terrified expression coming over her face.
“Did you have your baby with you?” he asked.
“I don’t have a baby.”
The car seat in the back of the vehicle and the baby bottle lying on the headliner next to her purse would indicate otherwise. He hoped, though, that she was telling the truth. He couldn’t bear the thought that the baby had come out of the car seat and was somewhere out in the snow.
He listened for a moment. He hadn’t heard a baby crying when he’d