Rocky Mountain Fugitive by Ann Voss Peterson

Author:Ann Voss Peterson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Suspense
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2010-04-05T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

Eric grabbed Sarah’s arm, but he didn’t need to. She was already moving, throwing open the door, racing down the steel steps. They reached the main walkway and dashed past a concession stand. Their feet thundered on the steel grating.

Two men in Stetsons rounded the corner. Shoulder to shoulder, they nearly blocked the stairs.

Sarah slammed to a stop, Eric almost running in to her from behind. She whirled around, looked up at him, the whites of her eyes bright in the arena lights.

He had to get her out of here. He had to think.

The men started up the steps in unison, a wall of cowboy they couldn’t get around. Eric spun in the other direction. A man came at them from that direction, too. Striding out from the seats of The Buzzard’s Roost. Another entered the walkway behind him.

Eric had to do something now.

He grabbed the rail and looked over the edge. A maze of steel fence shown in the dimness, ten or fifteen feet below, chutes that returned bucking horses and bulls to the holding pens. He grabbed Sarah’s arm. “Over the edge.”

She nodded, no hesitation. Grabbing the rail, she swung a leg over the edge and jumped.

Eric followed. He hit the ground behind her. The impact sent a stab of pain through his foot and a shudder through his body. But the ground was soft, stirred up by hooves and padded with manure.

“Eric!” On her feet already, Sarah was moving for the gate. He struggled to his feet and followed.

Voices clamored behind them. The tramping of feet rumbled down the stairs.

Sarah half climbed, half vaulted one pipe gate, then another. She slipped over the last of the gates designed to funnel the bucking stock and disappeared into a holding pen.

Eric followed her path. Each time he jumped a gate and landed, his foot screamed. By the third one, his foot was numb.

Fine by him.

He raced across the churned-up ground of the pen. A loud snort sounded to his right. He glanced in the direction of the sound. A huge gray bull stared back.

Damn.

“Over here. Just run for it.”

He made for the sound of Sarah’s voice. Behind him, he could hear the animal. The beat of his hooves. The snort of his breath. He braced himself for goring horns.

Sarah stood near the fence. She flapped something in her hands, something…

The bull raced straight for her.

“No.” Eric veered to the side.

“Keep running! Jump the fence!” she yelled.

Her coat. That’s what she held. She waved it like she thought she was some damn Spanish bullfighter. As the bull drew close, she tossed it. It fluttered in the air. He stabbed into it with his horns and dashed it to the ground.

Sarah jumped for the fence. Ten feet down, Eric did, too. They clambered over. When their feet hit the ground on the other side, they raced for the back gate.

Men’s voices jangled behind them. Asking questions. Yelling directions. Someone shouted he’d called police.

Eric pushed his legs to move faster. When they’d arrived, a man in a cowboy hat had been watching the gate.

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