BooksBarbecue
Back The Runaway
Chapters (80)
  1. Cover
  2. TITLES BY NICK PETRIE
  3. Dedication
  4. Epigraph
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. 24
  29. 25
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. 33
  38. 34
  39. 35
  40. 36
  41. 37
  42. 38
  43. 39
  44. 40
  45. 41
  46. 42
  47. 43
  48. 44
  49. 45
  50. 46
  51. 47
  52. 48
  53. 49
  54. 50
  55. 51
  56. 52
  57. 53
  58. 54
  59. 55
  60. 56
  61. 57
  62. 58
  63. 59
  64. 60
  65. 61
  66. 62
  67. 63
  68. 64
  69. 65
  70. 66
  71. 67
  72. 68
  73. 69
  74. 70
  75. 71
  76. 72
  77. 73
  78. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  79. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  80. What’s next onyour reading list?

And Peter had stepped right into the middle of it.

June was going to murder him.

Just a nice, slow cross-country drive, he’d told her. Do a little hiking, sleep under the stars. Stay out of trouble, I promise.

He hoped June would understand.

What was he supposed to do, ignore a pregnant girl stuck in the middle of nowhere?

8

The road came to a row of low, grass-covered hills and angled north to run around them. Ahead Peter could see the abrupt horizon of the bluff above the river, where the road turned west into a long narrow cut skirting the edge of the headland.

He remembered this place from earlier in the day. At the end of the cut, the land opened up and the gravel track crossed a two-lane paved county highway. The gravel kept going though hayfields and pastures, but he knew the blacktop would be a straight shot to Lynch, the next big town, where the presence of others might provide some protection. The asphalt would nullify some of the big black truck’s off-road advantage, too, and provide no dust trail to follow, either.

He checked his mirror again but couldn’t see the other truck. Peter had gained more ground but he didn’t doubt their pursuer was still behind him. Even if Peter managed to stay ahead, he couldn’t just leave her in town. It was the first place her husband would look.

No, Peter would stay on the highway and keep going. Valentine was only two hours. Or even all the way to Rapid City, someplace distant enough to dilute the search and big enough for a serious hospital. If she didn’t go into labor in the next five minutes. If the black truck didn’t close the gap.

The road veered around the turn and into the long, narrow passage, curved to follow the arc of the river below. On the left lay a long limestone outcrop like a buttress holding back the hillside. On the right was the eroded bluff edge, thin sandy soil over the same weathered rock, the only reason this skinny strip of land hadn’t already fallen into the water a hundred feet down.

The gravel flew beneath their wheels. A half mile, then a mile. The curve made it impossible to see too far forward. Still nothing in the rearview. Maybe another mile to the blacktop.

“Dammit,” she said.

Something blocked the road ahead. A big pickup, this one gray with a high cap on the back, parked sideways across the gravel between the wall of stone and the edge of the headland. Two figures stood in the grass. Long guns hung down from their hands.