Switchback by Pamela Fagan Hutchins

Author:Pamela Fagan Hutchins [Hutchins, Pamela Fagan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781950637041
Publisher: Skipjack Publishing
Published: 2019-11-14T16:00:00+00:00

Perry

Perry had never seen his dad this upset. When they’d ridden up on the camp, it was a mess. Their tent had caved in, and there were food and clothes and sleeping stuff scattered all over the place. His dad hadn’t said a word, but he got off Reno and paced around, picking things up, and putting them back down. When he found a piece of note paper, he read it, mouthed cusswords, and wadded it up. Then he changed his mind, flattening it against his pant leg and putting it in his pocket.

It all made Perry’s stomach hurt.

“Trish?” his dad shouted.

There was no answer.

He shouted again. And again and again. His voice echoed back to them, but Trish’s didn’t.

That was when Perry looked for the other horses. “Dad, Goldie and Cindy aren’t here either.”

His dad didn’t respond. He was crouched, examining the ground.

“Dad?”

Patrick glanced up. “I heard you, son. Yes, I know.”

“Do you think it was another bear?” Perry asked.

Patrick stood. He rubbed his face, and Perry was startled to see his father’s hands shaking. “No.”

“What did this, then?”

“People, I think. Hard to be sure.”

“Like, a prank?”

Patrick leaned over and started scavenging MREs. “I hope so.”

“Where’s Trish? Do you think she’s hurt?”

“I don’t know, son. Let me concentrate. I need to get us some supplies.”

Perry’s stomachache spread until it was hard to draw in a breath. “Supplies for what?”

“We have to go find her.”

“You don’t think she’ll come back?” His voice cracked and squeaked. He hated it when it squeaked. “Maybe she just got scared and ran off to hide and wait for us.”

Patrick stuffed MREs into his saddlebag. Then he pawed through the sodden mass of clothing options. He came up with a pair of Trish’s wool socks, her slicker, her winter jacket, and three extra sweaters. They dripped water in steady plop-plop-plops. “You have your gloves and wool cap? And your heavy coat?”

“In my saddlebags.” Why hadn’t his dad answered him about Trish?

Patrick added the wet clothes to Reno’s packs. He patted the bows, quiver, sheath knife, the pocketknife Wes had given him, and his holstered revolver, then rummaged in the rest of the saddlebags, mouthing out his finds. Extra canteens. A compass. The first aid kit. Ammunition. Matches. A flashlight. Rope.

Finally, he spoke to Perry, pointing at hoofprints on the tent. “Look at that.”

“Did our horses do that?”

“Can’t say for sure. I don’t think so.” He turned to face Perry, hands on his hips. “Do you need to go to the bathroom? We’re going to move out fast.”

Perry hopped off Duke. His dad stepped over and caught him before he butt-planted. Then Perry walked a few feet away. He’d just water a tree, like his dad. “Where are we going?”

“We’re going to follow any trail we can find. Footprints. Hoofprints.” He frowned. “That’s assuming the horses didn’t just spook and take off.”

Perry wanted to cry, but only babies cried. Instead, he fastened his pants and returned to his dad, his shoulders back. “I don’t think they got loose.

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