It couldn’t have been more than a couple hundred square feet with two windows on each side of a sturdy oak door. A dense canopy overhead would make it difficult to spot from the air.
In the glade next to the structure was a small fenced area with a three-sided shelter, to which both horses immediately turned their noses.
Cordelia slipped easily off her mount and led the animal inside the corral. Mackenzie dismounted, and he pridefully ignored her helping hand, which resulted in him almost collapsing to his knees in a heap.
Mackenzie reached for him, but he forced his spine straight with a grunt. “I’m good.”
With a doubtful shake of her head, she led the mare to join her companion.
Cordelia jutted her chin at Mackenzie and Gideon. “Door’s open. Go on in. I’m going to wipe the horses down and feed them. Be there in a minute.”
He and Mackenzie approached the squat structure, and he did a quick look through the windows. Nothing stirred within. No indication there was anyone inside readying a surprise attack.
Mackenzie clasped him by the arm and helped him heave himself up and over the front step. “We’ve got to check your bandage.”
When they stepped inside, the interior smelled of coffee, which made his mouth water. Nothing fancy in terms of layout, a living space with a worn burgundy-colored couch that had seen better days. The kitchen had no stove, but a small propane burner and a blue ice chest sat atop the narrow counter. He found a minuscule bathroom with a composting toilet, no shower. Behind a folding screen was a bed, neatly made, covered by a chenille spread. There was no bedside table to prowl through that might give him a clue about whether Cordelia fit into the friends or enemies camp. He hadn’t the strength to investigate further anyway.
Mackenzie forced him into a chair. In the commonspace near the lumpy sofa, he’d seen a small side table with a drawer. He intended to rest for just a moment and then, as soon he could get up, he’d rifle through it, but Cordelia entered before he made his move. She pulled off her boots and dropped them on a mat just inside the door.
Immediately she closed the curtains over the front windows and activated two small lanterns, one on the coffee table and the other in the kitchen.
“Do you have any supplies? First aid? Gideon was grazed by a bullet, and I used up most of his already,” Mackenzie said.
Cordelia’s brows arched, but she produced a small pouch from her pack. Mackenzie took it and set about rebandaging his wound. Fortunately, his pain threshold had already been breached so he hardly felt it. Now that he was off the horse, his body would rally. Hopefully.
A blue flame sprang to life as Cordelia switched on the propane burner and filled a pot with water from a bottle.
“Coffee in a minute,” she said.
The wordcoffeesparked a fierce craving. He forced himself to sit straighter. “First things first. Who are you? Really?”
“The same person you met before. Cordelia Bellamy. I own the stables, remember?”
He paused. “Let me backtrack. How did you know where to find us?”
“I have a friend at the airstrip. He gave me some intel.”
The airstrip? Why did that location factor so prominently in their lives? He exchanged a look with Mackenzie. “What friend? And how did he know where we were?”
“He’s a helicopter pilot.” She adjusted the pot on the burner.
Gideon folded his arms. “Look. If we have to do this question by question, it’s gonna take forever and I’m not in the mood. How about you cut to the chase. How’d you find us and what’s your stake in all this?”
Cordelia cocked her head and gave him full eye contact. She spoke slowly as if he were dim-witted. “Al and Jerry messaged my pilot friend about your escape from the boathouse and told him to prepare the helicopter for another search. Before he launched, he texted me and told me the area he was heading for. I took some shortcuts because I was on horseback, but even with that I barely made it.” She dumped spoonfuls of instant coffee into three porcelain mugs. “You like it strong?”
He ignored the question. “Your pilot friend who is helping the people who want to kill us?”
“Yes.”
They were back to one-word answers. Best to unload the big one. “Why, Cordelia? Why would either of you stick your neck out for us?”
Her dark hair shone in the lantern light as she regarded him. “I get an interrogation instead of a thank-you? You’re alive, right? You could try being grateful for that. I don’t have to explain right now, do I?”
“Yes, you do.”
Mackenzie nodded her agreement. “We have been hunted, Cordelia, and I’ve no doubt there’s a hefty price on our heads. Good reasons for us not to trust you.”
Cordelia’s eyes were smudged with fatigue, her ponytail messy, and her clothes disheveled, as if they’d been wornover consecutive days. Her exhaustion reminded him of his own, but he wasn’t going to budge until he understood her motives.
