Free Showdown With Fear by Stephen Wade Page A

alarm.
    ‘Hey... wake up... McVie... there’s a sort of bright light up on the cliffs.. come and see.’ Stobart and Barero were deep in sleep, but the McVie brothers rushed out to the valley bottom and looked up the slope. It was a flare, sizzling yellow and red, from the Nest. They knew something was badly wrong.
    Men were rushing about, trying to steady the horses, who were unsettled by the noise and the flashes of light. Some thought it was an attack and snatched their carbines from their saddles. The drunks were roused from sleep. Even Stobart and Barero eventually made their way outside.
    ‘What is it, McVie?’ Stobart called out.
    ‘Must be Mullen,’ McVie lied.
    ‘He got many with him? I thought my boys got rid of the damned posse.’
    ‘You did... but this Dan Mullen... well, never underestimate him.’
    McVie knew it had to be Grip up there. Something was wrong. Surely, he thought, two kids couldn’t cause any trouble for Grip, a giant of a man. Or could they? Pete was a Mullen after all.

 
     
    Chapter 6
     
    Pete and Sara were almost done in. He had forced her to walk for two hours, in the night, before they stopped for rest. Pete had taken some food and a canteen of water, but Sara was in a desperate state. She hadn’t eaten properly for days and she looked worn and wasted. He sat her down by some cactus and rocks, and fed her some bread and water. It was like feeding a baby.
    In the night, with the moonlight throwing down a pale cast of light on her lovely face, Pete was reminded just why he had wanted her. They had known each other for only a few months, but there was something special between them. They had got on like brother and sister at first, sharing a sense of humour and liking the same food, the same books, the same songs. But then he kissed her, out on the porch after supper, when her parents had been alive, two ordinary, affectionate people trying to keep a foothold in a wilderness.
    ‘You rest a while now, see, we got a good start, but we’re on foot. We’ve covered a good way, love. Drink this.’
    ‘How far to the river?’
    ‘Maybe three miles.’
    Pete was no fool. He knew that their only chance was for the posse to see them. There was no way they could survive trying to walk across this desert scrub. If they didn’t reach proper cover by sun-up, they would be shrivelled up anyway and the heat would finish them before McVie’s lot caught up with them.
    ‘Pete, we’re not going to make it, are we?’
    ‘Sara, do you think I’d let you down... pa would skelp me raw if I let a lady down.’
    They tried to smile. Inside, though, Pete knew that it was just a matter of time before they were either caught or burned up.
    ‘Pete... you’ve been great. I’ll try... I really will.’
    He had a good look at her feet. Her shoes had been half-ruined even before they were abducted. Now they were sore, cutting her swollen feet. But the worst thing was that she was hot, feverish. He did his best with his bandanna soaked in cold water, padding the moisture on her forehead. At least she had kept the food down.
    ‘Darlin’ we have to try, however slow, to move on.’ He looked behind and caught a glimpse of the flare. He tried to work out what it might be, but whatever it was, it meant trouble. He said nothing to Sara, but gently lifted her to her feet and urged her to walk on.
    ‘Nice and steady. One step at a time. That’s my Sara.’ Most of her weight was on his arm, and he half-dragged her along. There was still silence behind them. The only sounds were of coyotes and birds. It was still as a graveyard around them; the scatterings of lizards sometimes broke the silence, their footsteps scraping against the wall of dark and deadness.
    The blessing was that the wind had died down, Pete thought. If she could just stay awake. He looked down at her rich, matted black hair. Gone was the lovely shine and all her womanly scents. They were both like prairie-dogs, he thought, animals of the