Not This Late (A Rachel Blackwood Suspense Thriller—Book Five) by Blake Pierce

Author:Blake Pierce [Pierce, Blake]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: UNKNOWN
Published: 2024-04-05T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The dust of the rodeo settled into a quiet murmur as Rachel Blackwood left the cheers and the lights far behind her. The night had draped itself over Texas, a shroud speckled with distant stars, indifferent to the drama below. Her horse's hooves crunched on the gravel near the abandoned mineshaft, her breath a ghost in the cold air.

"Dammit," she muttered under her breath, eyes scanning the darkness. The silhouette of the person she was hunting was etched against the moonlit sky for a fleeting second before it vanished into the trees.

The terrain here was harsher now. Silas didn't slow, but moved over the rough, rocky ground, through the trees. She hadn't even realized that the horse only had its bridle and a single leather strap. No real saddle to speak of.

Bareback. Just like Aunt Sarah taught her — feel the horse, be one with it.

She kicked into the creature’s flanks, whispering urgently, "C'mon girl, you've got this."

She knew it was more dangerous now, cutting through the woods into the dark. She knew that a broken ankle would be catastrophic for the animal. She couldn't allow it. But she also couldn't allow Silas to escape, and so she navigated the terrain with every expertise she had, keeping an eye on the ground, careful--in the steeper portions-to slow the gait of the trusty steed.

The chase cut through the dense forest; branches snapped beneath them, an erratic symphony to their pursuit. The palomino's hooves were thunder, her breath clouds of fury.

"Can't lose him," Rachel thought, her jaw clenched, eyes fixed on the fleeting figure ahead. Every muscle in her body tensed with the rhythm of the chase.

"Stop! Texas Ranger!" It was more than a command; it was a promise of the inevitable.

The night swallowed sound, save for the pounding hooves and Rachel's ragged breath. Moonlight played tricks on the landscape, casting long shadows that turned innocuous shrubs into lurking threats. The earth here was treacherous, a graveyard of ambition where old mineshafts gaped like open wounds. Each hoofbeat could be the horse’s last if they misjudged the terrain.

"Steady," she whispered, her voice taut as a bowstring. The palomino snorted, a plume of steam in the chill air, her ears swiveling back to catch Rachel's command. They weaved through the labyrinth of dangers with an uncanny grace, the horse's instincts melding with Rachel's guidance.

A sudden clatter ahead—Silas's horse stumbled, a foreleg caught in the dark maw of a shaft. For a heartbeat, Rachel's pulse echoed the creature's panic before it regained footing and surged on, its rider cursing the brush.

"Careful, devil's got a playground here," Rachel muttered to herself, senses sharpened to the metallic scent of fear and the bitter tang of damp earth. Every second counted, but haste could mean a bone-breaking plunge into darkness.

A sudden clearing unfolded before them, the river's presence announced by a rush of sound that surged like a pulse beneath the stillness. Silas veered sharply, hooves drumming a wild rhythm against the ground before launching over the water.

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