Alaskan Mountain Pursuit by Elizabeth Goddard (good e books to read .txt) 📗

“I’m just not that woman, Clay. I don’t know if I can be.”

Her words fell in the quiet like weights. He could almost feel the pull of them inside his own chest, sinking any kind of hope of convincing her otherwise.

And he had to sit there, not do anything physical to convince her that she was wrong. His arms felt empty with how much he wanted to pull her close, just hold her. Tight. Maybe forever.

A gunshot broke through the air.

Clay was instantly on alert but couldn’t place where it came from—except that it was close.

He finally located the spot where dirt had flown up. Just behind and to the left of Summer.

She looked up at him, eyes wide. Glanced at her leg.

And the red soaking her khaki hiking pants just below her knee.

Summer’s breath came faster as she tried to process what had happened. Shot. She’d been shot.

“We have to run. Go as fast as you can. I’ll find you but I need you safe.” Clay’s voice, so soft only moments before, supportive, understanding, was firm. He left no room for argument even though she knew he’d seen the blood spreading on her leg.

It didn’t burn much, not the way she’d always heard about gunshots hurting. She didn’t know if real life was that different from fiction or if she’d only been grazed.

Summer stood, hoping the second was true. She had to hold on to hope, it was all she had.

Hope. How long had it been since she’d used that word, really held on to it and believed it did any good at all?

She pushed her past out of her mind, something she was well practiced in, and did what she always did, but this time with the urgency that her life depended on it. Summer ran.

She heard footsteps behind her, hoped they were Clay’s and assumed since she hadn’t been shot yet that they were.

More gunshots. The big, louder kind. The man after them was still using a rifle, her experiences hunting caribou had taught her the distinct difference in the sound.

Then small caliber shots from right behind her. She glanced back. It was Clay, shooting at a dark shadow of a person maybe thirty yards away—pretty good range for a handgun.

His second shot connected with something. She heard a voice cry out.

“Go!” Clay yelled at her. “He’s down, at least for now.”

He was right behind her, and Summer somehow ran faster than she ever had, down the edges of the creek, toward the Hope Cutoff, careful not to slip on the rocks near the creek. Please don’t let there be bears out tonight, God.

The second prayer that had slipped out since this ordeal had begun just three days ago.

She kept running, the dim twilight of the middle of the Alaskan night giving her just enough light to see by.

“Where do you want to cross?” They’d have to cross in order to reach the road, and at this point there was no more stopping. They’d have to find someone, someplace to make a call and have backup sent. It was all-or-nothing time.

Her heart pounded as she waited for Clay’s answer, and Summer kept running.

“Whenever you think it’s best.”

There wasn’t anywhere that was a great option. Alaska rivers and creeks ran cold and fast, and a misstep could cost a healthy adult his or her life. It had happened before, people slipping on the round, smooth rocks, then falling into the cold water and being swept away.

Even if they ever found their way out, hypothermia was quick to set in and was unforgiving.

Still, she and Clay didn’t have a choice. Every chance of help they had was on the other side of Six Mile Creek.

Summer kept running until the topography changed and the solid rock cliffs gradually diminished in size and then faded entirely, giving way to land that was almost flat, leading straight down to the water.

Now or never.

Taking a deep breath and steeling herself against the cold, Summer stepped into the water. It was colder than earlier. Of course, they’d crossed at such a narrow spot earlier that they hadn’t had to stay in the water too long, and the fact that the sun had been fully up in the sky had given them enough warmth to make up for the cold on their feet.

Dry, clean socks. If they made it out of this, that was what Summer wanted, even more than she wanted someone to check on her leg. That was the one advantage to the cold water. It reached high enough to numb the wound.

The water was calmer there than it had been upstream in the rapids, much calmer. Summer was pleasantly surprised at how little they had to fight with the water to hurry across it. Still, she didn’t dare risk slipping by running across, but instead chose her steps carefully.

Two more and she’d be out. She glanced back to make sure Clay was making it. Her eyes widened and she realized her mistake as her foot slipped under her.

Clay caught her by the elbow and held his footing firm as Summer’s stabilized. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, a reminder of how close she’d come to falling, an accident that could have cost her everything.

“Thank you.”

“Of course.”

Summer took one more step in the water, then stepped out onto the shore, feeling somehow like that last brief “thank you” had been about more than just rescuing her from her fall. She was thankful to him for everything. For listening. For his protection.

For seeing her. And still...not leaving.

“Run to the highway.”

Summer had been planning on it but was glad they were both on the same page. “Got it.” She took a deep breath, fatigue starting to creep up on the edges of the rush of adrenaline that had overtaken her when the shot had rung out.

Running through the grass should have been easier than running down the mountain, but it wasn’t what she trained for, so without the