Chapters (110)
- Cover
- ALSO BY J. TODD SCOTT
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- PROLOGUE
- I
- II
- PART ONE
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- PART TWO
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- PART THREE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- FIFTY
- FIFTY-ONE
- FIFTY-TWO
- FIFTY-THREE
- FIFTY-FOUR
- FIFTY-FIVE
- FIFTY-SIX
- FIFTY-SEVEN
- FIFTY-EIGHT
- FIFTY-NINE
- SIXTY
- SIXTY-ONE
- PART FOUR
- SIXTY-TWO
- SIXTY-THREE
- SIXTY-FOUR
- SIXTY-FIVE
- SIXTY-SIX
- SIXTY-SEVEN
- SIXTY-EIGHT
- SIXTY-NINE
- SEVENTY
- SEVENTY-ONE
- SEVENTY-TWO
- SEVENTY-THREE
- SEVENTY-FOUR
- SEVENTY-FIVE
- SEVENTY-SIX
- SEVENTY-SEVEN
- SEVENTY-EIGHT
- SEVENTY-NINE
- EIGHTY
- EIGHTY-ONE
- EIGHTY-TWO
- EIGHTY-THREE
- EIGHTY-FOUR
- EPILOGUE
- I
- II
- III
- IV
- V
- VI
- VII
- AUTHOR’S NOTE
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- Excerpt from LOST RIVER
- LITTLE PARIS
- DILLON
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- What’s next onyour reading list?
Marco already knew he hadn’t brought enough water—his throat as thick and dusty as the tires on the old truck—and he would have gladly killed for an icy glass of lemonade or a sweet tea. He had tucked the old truck up in an arroyo, within sight of the gravel drive that led back to the Far Six, and the sheriff had told him to be on the lookout for something, anyone, approaching the ranch, possibly that stranger from Earlys—which made him want one of those Cokes that Vianey always poured for him—but with each passing minute, it was only getting harder to concentrate, to stay away awake.
He was starting to think he wasn’t cut out for this deputy business after all.
His eyes were just starting to slip . . . again . . . when a truck roared up behind him.
—
MARCO WAS RELIEVED TO FIND OUT that it was only Danny in his Bronco.
Marco had finally broken down and texted the other deputy earlier, wanting some answers, some clarity. He trusted Danny, but the truth was, no one was being clear about what was going on. He knew it somehow involved America, and the old man and girl who’d been staying with her, and Marco figured the sheriff wasn’t saying much to protect them in some way. But it sure didn’t make his role any easier or make him feel any better about it.
Neither did nodding off, when you were supposed to be the lookout.
Danny slowed way down to get a look at him, and when he rolled down his window, Marco could tell he was visibly relieved, too. Marco had assumed that if Danny showed up, it would be in his department truck. But, then again, Marco wasn’t in his duty truck, either—the sheriff had insisted he get Denbrow’s—and that had caught Danny by surprise.
He wasn’t the least bit angry that he’d almost caught Marco napping. Instead, Danny appeared glad he hadn’t needed the gun they both knew was aimed at Marco just beneath Danny’s open window.
—
“JESUS,” DANNY SAID. “You really are here.”
Marco tried to keep the shakes out of his voice. Danny hadn’t said it out loud, but he might as well have: I almost shot you.
“I texted you that I got a call from the sheriff last night, asking me to hightail it out here and set up where I could see the access road back to the Far Six.”
“Goddamn,” Danny said, shaking his head. “He shouldn’t have gotten you into this.”