Free Hunted by William W. Johnstone Page B

and alert for trouble constantly.
    Upon returning to the cabin, Darry had done several hours work around the place, then bathed and shaved and silently spoke to his hybrids. It was now approaching twilight. Darry had a stew simmering on the outside stove, under the dog walk, and had just fixed a whiskey and water and sat down on the porch, waiting for the person or persons who had been stomping around in the brush and timber for several minutes to announce their presence.
    â€œHello, the cabin! Anybody home?”
    â€œThe last time I checked, I was,” Darry called. “What’s the matter, are you lost?”
    â€œFrankly, yes,” the voice admitted.
    â€œWell, come on in and rest.”
    A young man and young woman stepped out of the timber. They looked to be in their mid-twenties. Both of them dressed in the height of outdoor fashion. They both carried side arms on their belts. 9mm or the new .40 caliber; Darry wasn’t sure. He waved to chairs on the porch.
    â€œGet out of those packs and have a seat. You both look beat.”
    â€œWe are,” the woman said. “I’m agent Kathy Owens; this is agent Jack Speed. We’re FBI.” They both showed him their credentials.
    â€œVery impressive. I’m Darry Ransom. You’re only about a thousand yards from the river trail. That way.” He pointed. “If you listen, you can hear it. The ranger station is about six and a half miles away—in that direction.” He pointed. “But it’s easy to get off the trail.”
    The young man sat down wearily. “Our horses ran off—saddle horses and packhorse. Luckily we had made up these backpacks before that happened.”
    â€œDid you rent them from Chuck?”
    â€œAh . . . yes. That was his name,” Kathy said.
    â€œThey’ll go back home. You two can bunk here tonight, and tomorrow I’ll take you back to the ranger station.”
    â€œThat’s very kind of you, Mr. Ransom,” Jack said.
    â€œDarry. Call me Darry.”
    It was then the two huge hybrids chose to stand up and approach the FBI agents, almost scaring the crap out of both of them.
    â€œGood God!” Jack said, his hand dropping to the butt of his pistol.
    Darry moved; moved so fast he was a blur to Kathy. Darry’s hand closed around Jack’s arm and paralyzed the move to draw his gun. There was no pain associated with the grip; Jack just could not move his arm
    â€œDon’t even think about hurting my dogs,” Darry said softly. “Miss Owens, if you make a move toward your side arm, one of those hybrids will have your throat torn out before you can draw. Now just settle down. If you don’t make hostile moves toward them, they won’t hurt you.” He released his grip on the agent’s arm. “Let them smell you and they’ll go on back and lie down.”
    Pete and Repeat smelled the agents, then looked up at Darry. “It’s all right,” Darry assured them.
    The hybrids backed up and lay down on the porch.
    â€œThey’re wolves!” Kathy said.
    â€œThey’re half wolf, half husky, miss.”
    Jack looked down at his arm. He could now flex his fingers and move the arm. “How did you do that?” he asked, no hostility in his voice.
    â€œPressure points,” Darry told him. “It’s a painless, harmless, and very effective way to disarm an opponent.”
    â€œMy whole arm went numb,” Jack said. “No pain, just no feeling.”
    â€œLet me give you both a bit of advice. You probably won’t take it, but it’s free, so what the hell? There are men, and women, living back here in the wilderness, who would have shot you stone dead if they’d been in my boots a moment ago. So go easy on grabbing for guns.”
    â€œThose wolves startled me,” Jack said, a bit defensively.
    â€œThey’re hybrids. And they won’t hurt you unless you make some sort of