“He bolted out of bed. “What’s wrong?” Sara asked, half asleep. “Incoming chopper.” Not bothering with underwear, he jerked his jeans on. Automatically he clipped the Glock into the belt harness at the small of his back. Boots came next, then he yanked on a dark T-shirt from a dresser drawer. “What about the cows?” she asked, frantically untangling the T-shirt and flannel shirt she had thrown aside last night. “I’ll send Lightfoot to help Skunk. The dogs will crowd the cattle into a corner of th...e pasture away from the helo. It’s not the first time the cows have seen a metal bird. The dogs know what to do.” Jay was out the door before Sara even had her T-shirt on. “Where are you going?” she called out. “To get the rifle. If it’s some sightseeing yahoos, I’ll give them something to talk about back home.” “What if . . . ?” Her voice died. The thought of the murderers returning was terrifying. His words came clearly from down the hallway. “I should be so lucky as to see those assholes over my rifle barrel.”MoreLessRead More Read Less
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