Trail Of The Vanished by Lane R Warenski

Author:Lane R Warenski
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9781641191746
Publisher: Wolfpack Publishing
Published: 2018-04-02T23:00:00+00:00

13 TO THE SAN RAFAEL

IT WAS ONLY another mile when Matt came to the Price River and stopped just long enough to let the horses drink and for him to fill his water bottles. The river was muddy here and he would have to let the water settle before he wanted to drink it. The horses all struggled in deep mud crossing the muddy river and although he knew the horses behind him were still over an hour away he kept looking back that direction until he got the last horse out of the mud and was headed south once again at a fast gallop.

He had been through this country before but only on the highways and he was aware the San Rafael swell contained slot canyons and what was called the little Grand Canyon. He didn’t want to get trapped on a ledge where he couldn’t move forward and couldn’t remember water until he got to Green River heading southeast. He then headed southwest hoping he could roughly follow the route of the highway 10 between Price and Interstate 70.

He had always considered this land barren and flat, but it soon became evident it was anything but flat. There were long fairly steep rolling hills that he could feel Sami laboring on as they rode up them and then the horses worked even harder as they had to come down the other side. He knew he couldn’t keep up this pace all afternoon, after only an hour and a half the horses were lathered up and he started looking for a place to rest, at least for a little while.

He thought about those that were following him as he had slowed to a walk and was now just leading Sami and the others. In fact, he didn’t know for sure anyone was following him, he had only assumed they were. He couldn’t think of any other reason he kept seeing people behind him then started questioning what he had seen. It was only a trail of dust that could have been made by any number of things, animals or even a whirl wind there in the mouth of the canyon.

After a half hour of leading the horses at a walk he mounted up again. This time he did not push nearly as hard as he continued until he reached the top of the next hill. There he stopped and with his binoculars he studied his back trail with all the skill a tour in Afghanistan had taught him. He wished right now he had the support of his army squad or for that matter just his M-16 and a couple of hundred rounds for it. If he did he could quit running and just make a stand. He had about given up seeing anything when a tiny line of movement came over a hill he figured was between five and ten miles behind him.

As the warriors rode down the side of that hill they looked like tiny ants even

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