Brody and Mason both agreed. “I’ll send Cook with you,” Brody offered.
“No, have him help you and the sheriff round up all the other kids and workers and corral them into the dining hall. We can protect them better if they’re contained.”
Brody adjusted his hat. “Good idea.” He stepped onto the porch to phone Cook and wait for the sheriff, and Mason and Miles headed toward the stable.
They saddled horses in record time, then both mounted their rides, their weapons by their sides. Miles knew the ranch layout better and led the way, keeping his eyes peeled for trouble.
Every night sound, crack of a tree limb, coyote’s cry made his heart pound harder. It was less than a mile to the west side of the creek, where he brought his horse to a stop and climbed off. Mason followed, the two of them tying their mounts to a nearby post and crossing through the woods, then along the bank until they reached the most shallow part of the creek.
Miles pushed aside a patch of weeds and studied the area, listening for sounds of the kids, for Jordan, anything to verify they were still there and alive.
But it was so dark he could only make out the lingering smoke curling toward the sky from the earlier campfire. He motioned Mason to follow and stay alert, then crept through the woods and started across the creek.
The woods seemed unusually quiet for the danger that he knew waited, alarming him more. And as he pushed through the shallow water and eased onto the embankment, he scanned the area around the fire.
Mason searched the edge of the woods. “I found Haddock. He didn’t make it.”
Dammit. Miles spotted Wes Lee and hurried over to where he lay in the dirt. He knelt and checked his pulse. “He’s still breathing.”
Then he searched the campsite. The sleeping bags, the kids...Jordan...they were all gone.
His chest clenched. What in the hell had Dugan done to the boys?
He turned and scanned the thicket of trees. Could he already have killed Jordan and Timmy and left them somewhere out in the woods to die alone?
Chapter Twelve
Miles’s head spun. He needed help for Lee, but he also had to find Jordan and Timmy and the other kids.
Mason walked up behind him. “I’ll call for an ambulance.”
Miles shook his head. “No, let me call Dr. Richmond. He’ll get here faster than transporting Lee to the E.R.” He called the doc and quickly explained the circumstances.
Mason grabbed a blanket one of the kids left behind, tore it in half, then wadded it up and pressed it against Lee’s wound to stem the blood flow.
“I’ll be right there,” Dr. Richmond said.
“Bring help to move him to the hospital,” Miles said. “And do it quietly. The man who shot him is armed and dangerous. He’s taken hostages on the ranch. We don’t want to send him into a shooting rampage with sirens.”
“I understand.”
Miles gave him directions to the camp, then turned to Mason. “I’m going to track down the others. Wait here for the doctor.”
Mason nodded, then shined a flashlight along the ground and gestured toward the footprints in the dirt. “There’s a start.”
Miles took the flashlight. “Thanks.”
Mason caught his arm before he walked away. “Be careful, McGregor. We want Dugan alive, not to turn this into some vigilante killing.”
Miles cursed through his teeth. “He has my little boy.”
“I know,” Mason said in a low voice. “And when you save Timmy, you don’t want to go to prison and leave him on his own. He’s lost his mother. He needs his father to raise him.”
Emotions flooded Miles. On a rational level, he knew Mason was right. But his rage at the injustice of Dugan’s crimes, at the fact he’d gone free, killed Marie and was terrorizing Timmy and Jordan and the other kids with them, heated his blood.
Dammit. He wanted to destroy Dugan.
To see him dead.
Lee groaned and Mason knelt beside him and patted his shoulder. “Help is on the way.”
His gaze met Miles’s, his earlier warning lingering in the air between them. But Miles didn’t have time to debate what he would do if he confronted Dugan.
He couldn’t make promises he might not be able to keep.
“They can’t have gone far if they’re on foot,” Miles said.
“True. And I didn’t see signs of tire tracks. Although Dugan could have parked somewhere nearby and walked into the camp.”
Miles’s pulse jumped. If he had a car, he could be off the ranch by now with Timmy and Jordan.
“I need to go,” he told Mason. “Once Lee is with the doc, track down Ables.”
Miles didn’t wait for a response. He turned and waved his flashlight across the ground. Like Mason, he didn’t spot tire tracks, only blurred footprints. Several smaller ones, mixed and overlying as if the boys had dragged their feet and walked in a single-file line.