Free Morning Light by Catherine Anderson Page B

Stiles is alive, it’s unlikely that he’ll remain that way for long.”
    Clint had heard enough and shut off the television. No longer hungry, he got up to pace. Though he refused to believe Trevor Stiles was his son, there was no denying that the boy might still be alive. And if he was, every wasted minute took him one step closer to death. Why the hell hadn’t Uncle Hugh gotten back to him yet?
    While he waited, Clint began planning. You’ll be the only person who can save him. Those had been Loni MacEwen’s exact words. At the time they’d made no sense to Clint, but now he realized he might be able to play a key role in the child’s rescue. He had a stable full of riding horses, ten of them trail ready because he and his brothers had been planning to go on a three-day ride sometime next week. Over the last few days, Clint had been slowly changing the animals over to weed-free alfalfa cubes, required by Oregon law to protect some wilderness areas from toxic weed infestation.
    Searchers on foot in a wilderness area would fan out from a base camp, going only so far before being forced to turn back. With pack animals Clint could carry camping gear and enough food to last several days, enabling him to cover more ground and press ever deeper into the wilderness at a faster clip.
    The phone rang just then. Clint grabbed the portable that he kept by the recliner. “Clint here.”
    â€œHi, son. It’s Uncle Hugh. Sorry it took me so long, but there was a traffic pileup on Highway Ninety-seven. Bess needed four hands and two sets of ears there for a bit. She just now got back to me.”
    â€œDid she get the address?”
    â€œSure did. And it’s a lucky thing, too. Loni MacEwen only recently moved to Oregon. A lot of people ignore the thirty-day law and don’t get a new driver’s license for months after moving into the state. Do you have paper and pen handy?”

    When Clint finally knocked on Loni MacEwen’s door, it was after seven, and less than two hours of daylight were left. Little Trevor Stiles was in for another long night—if he was still alive. All Clint could do was pack as quickly as possible, load up his horses, and reach the south trailhead in time to ride in at dawn.
    From inside the house, he heard a deep, rumbling growl, followed by the soft tap of footsteps. Then came the rasp of three locks being disengaged. After opening the door, Loni MacEwen just stared at him, her hand clenched over the doorknob. Clint couldn’t decide who looked less pleased to see him, the lady or her huge yellow dog. The beast was the largest canine he’d ever seen, with a massive head, droopy jowls, and folds of loose skin around its neck. If she wanted a horse, why didn’t she just buy one?
    â€œHi.” It was all Clint could think to say.
    Dark circles of exhaustion underscored her pretty blue eyes. She wasted no time on pleasantries. “How did you find me?”
    â€œLet’s just say I’m resourceful.”
    â€œWhat do you want?”
    Clint hadn’t completely worked that out for himself yet. “I saw the news story about Senator Stiles and his family drowning. Seems to me it’s a little too much to be a coincidence, so I dropped by to talk to you.”
    â€œI just took a couple of Valium, Mr. Harrigan. I’m delusional, remember?”
    This wasn’t going well. Clint cut a hard glance at the dog, which still hadn’t stopped growling. “Will he attack?”
    â€œHe is a she, and she only attacks disagreeable cowboys.”
    Clint guessed he had that coming. He studied the dog for a moment, concluded that the ungainly creature was all growl and no bite, and then returned his gaze to Loni MacEwen. “You’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?”
    â€œShould I?”
    Clint rarely apologized to anyone. The words I’m sorry always caught at the back of his throat. But when he