Using his tongue, he tried to push the gag out so he could yell. It held tight.

He tried to loosen the binding on his hands, but that brought blinding pain to his shoulder.

Maybe he could stand, hop if need be, to find help.

Trying to find help had gotten him into this mess. At least whoever had knocked him out had placed him on this bed and tucked a pillow under his head. He could have been left outside, tied to a tree, or left on the floor. This didn’t make sense.

Why here? Why the bunkhouse? It was out of sight from most of the resort. It would, however, eventually be searched when Wyatt brought help.

Unless Wyatt’s group ran into problems as well. Liam could also be bringing help. He hadn’t bothered to stop when Bram was thrown.

A thought stopped him cold. Had Liam been given a GPS? Or just the three main riders? He couldn’t remember. Liam could even be one of the suspects.

The stench grew.

The back of his throat burned. Sucking in air through his nose, then holding his breath, he swung his legs over the side of the bed, then let the momentum swing him to a seated position.

The room twirled around him. Sweat broke out on his forehead. He waited until the world stopped spinning.

Now he could see there were people in the other beds. Motionless people.

The odors sorted themselves out. The reek of dead bodies. And the pungent smell of gasoline.

*  *  *

I landed, rolled, and kept rolling. A hoof clipped my hip. Another set of hooves thundered past my head. I stayed in a fetal position, arms over my head. The ground rumbled under me. Oh, please . . .

The drumming moved away. I remained curled up just in case a straggler came along. When it seemed the herd had passed, I uncoiled and checked for injuries. I’d have some doozie bruises, and I didn’t even want to look at my hip, but otherwise I was in one piece.

I’d landed between my cabin and the next one. I could clearly see the window where the killer had stood. I couldn’t see anyone standing behind the curtain. I’d bet he was still watching the horses. That wouldn’t hold his interest for long. The dust was just settling from the stampede and I needed to put a tree or two between the killer and me.

My canine crutch, Maverick, was nowhere in sight. Crawling would be faster than hopping. I wasn’t even sure my good leg would hold me up. Rolling to my hands and knees, I crawled as fast as I could to the nearest ponderosa.