'Til Death (A Rebel Ridge Novel) (27 page)

And then all of a sudden Moses veered off to the right.

Linc called out, “He’s turning east!”

“We see your light!” Quinn yelled back.

Linc was in the thick of the forest, ducking branches and
stumbling through underbrush, when all of a sudden Moses bayed. The hair stood
up on the back of his neck. Did this mean that the dog had found her?

He swung the flashlight across the ground in front of him and
caught a glimpse of the dog. Moses was sitting, looking back, as if waiting for
everyone to catch up, but Meg was nowhere in sight

Linc’s heart was hammering against his chest. He was afraid of
what lay ahead in the dark, terrified it was something that couldn’t be
fixed.

He dashed forward, only to have Moses suddenly stand up and
charge him, barking to keep him back. It didn’t make sense.

He took the light and swept the ground again, and that was when
it hit him. All he could see in front of him was dark and falling snow. No
trees. No brush.

No ground.

“No. No, no, no,” he moaned, while a pain in his chest began to
spread.

Two more steps and he was standing beside the dog. He could
hear Quinn and Mariah running up behind him, but he had to look. Even if the
flashlight didn’t shine far enough down, he had to know if he was right.

He swung the light down into the void and saw nothing but
snowflakes spiraling into darkness.

He dropped to his knees, defeated by an inevitability he
couldn’t face, and threw back his head. The roar of pain that came up his throat
echoed across the canyon.

Mariah grabbed at Quinn’s hand, but he kept running, unwilling
to accept the despair he heard in Linc’s voice.

They saw Moses first, and then Linc on his knees. Quinn took
one long step forward when Mariah suddenly grabbed him by the arm.

“Stop! Don’t go any farther!” she screamed.

Quinn spun. “Why the hell not?”

“It’s a cliff. Linc’s on the edge of a cliff.”

Quinn froze. “Meg fell off? God, no!”

Mariah was crying as she slipped off her backpack.

“Give me the big searchlight.”

He slipped off his own backpack and dug out the light.

Mariah grabbed it, crawled up behind Linc and hit the switch. A
blast of light with a million candle-watt beam cut through the dark, past the
falling snow and down to a ledge about forty feet below. She could see something
red, and then the sole of a shoe beneath the snow cover, but it was enough to
know that there was a body there.

She grabbed Linc by the shoulder and shook him. “She’s on that
ledge! She didn’t fall all the way! Look, Linc! See her foot? And her red
scarf?”

Linc grabbed the light out of her hands, then got down on his
belly and scooted forward. As he angled the light down he saw the ledge, the
boot and the flash of red. It
was
Meg. He scooted
back and then jumped up.

“Quinn! Meg’s on the ledge! How do we get her off?”

Now the ball was in Quinn’s court. He tried to make a phone
call, then pocketed the phone in frustration.

“No signal,” he said. “We’ll have to wait for the search party
to catch up.”

“No!” Linc cried. “I waited long enough for you two to catch
up. The snow is falling heavier, and the wind is rising. I’m not waiting again.
If there’s a chance in hell that she’s alive, we need to get her off this
mountain
now.
”

“But—”

Linc pointed to Quinn’s rope. “How long is that?”

“Nearly two hundred feet of heavy-duty nylon.”

Linc pointed at Quinn’s backpack. “Do you have any climbing
equipment in that thing?”

Quinn took a step back. “Oh, hell no, you’re not climbing down
the face of a cliff in a snowstorm.”

Linc grabbed Quinn’s arm. “You don’t understand. My life isn’t
worth much without her. I’d just as soon risk it doing this than stay safe and
healthy and find out she died from exposure and injuries before we pulled her
up. Look at me. I’m big, but I’m also damn strong, and I have rappelled down a
cliff face before. It’s not that far, so tie the damn rope off or whatever you
have to do, or I’ll do it myself.”

Mariah stepped between them, her hand on Quinn’s chest.

“Don’t deny him this,” she said. “Ryal said the same thing to
me when I told him I was going in after you. I couldn’t have lived with myself
without trying. It’s not your place to tell Linc he can’t try. This is his
decision.”

And just like that, the discussion was over.

Linc quickly shed his coat as Quinn dug a chest harness out of
his pack, then let it out as far as it would go. It fit Linc, but barely. After
that the prep and hookup went quickly. Linc’s eagerness to get down there was
tempered by his fear for Meg’s condition. He wouldn’t let himself believe God
would save her from falling to the bottom only to let her die when she was
within reach.

As soon as his climbing gear was in place, they helped him put
his coat back on and fasten it up. Quinn took off his sock cap and put it on
Linc’s head, then handed him a pair of leather climbing gloves, slipped a
handheld radio in one pocket and made sure he had his flashlight in the
other.

“We’ll belay you down. I’ve got another radio. We’ll be able to
communicate once you’re there. Mariah...give him that blanket in your pack.”

She ran toward her pack and dug out a blanket.

Quinn tied it to Linc’s harness and then slapped his
shoulder.

“Godspeed, brother.”

A look passed between them, and then Linc headed for the
drop-off. He stopped at the rim and pulled hard a few times to test the rope,
made sure Quinn was ready, adjusted his grip and then turned his back to the
void.

“All my contact info is at my place. Aunt Tildy will know what
to do.”

Before they could comment, he stepped off backward into
space.

“Lord have mercy,” Mariah muttered, and angled the spotlight
downward. It was her job to keep it on the ledge where Meg had fallen, and she
wasn’t going to fail in her duty. What Linc was doing was crazy, but she
understood the need. Denying Linc the same chance she’d had would have been the
height of hypocrisy.

Quinn was feeding out the rope, but the pull from Lincoln’s
weight was greater than he’d thought. When he finally heard Jake Doolen and his
boys coming up, he called out, “We’re here. Hold the dogs back.”

Moments later the others burst onto the scene. Moses was
familiar with both Jake and his dogs, and wagged his tail in welcome as they
tied their dogs off next to him.

“What’s going on? Where’s Meg? Where’s Lincoln?” Jake
asked.

“She fell off the mountain. She’s on a ledge about forty feet
below. Linc is rappelling down,” Quinn said. “Grab hold, boys. He’s damn
heavy.”

Jake was horrified. Their sweet Meg... If the law didn’t put
Prince White in prison for life, he would be waiting for that SOB when he got
out. He said a quick prayer for Linc and then headed toward Mariah, as Cyrus and
Avery fell in behind Quinn to help belay the line.

* * *

The farther down Linc went, the stronger the wind
became. There was a whirlpool effect going on in the space between where he was
and the surrounding mountains, turning the falling snow into icy shards coming
at him from every direction.

He wasn’t thinking beyond his next step and the rope in his
hands. It was the umbilical cord keeping him in this life and bringing him
closer to Meg. His shoes were not meant for climbing, but they were holding up
to the task. Only once did he slip and go crashing into the cliff.

Up above, Mariah gasped.

“What happened?” Quinn shouted.

“He slipped, but he’s okay. He’s got it. He’s back on track!”
she yelled.

“You okay?” Jake asked. “If you need me to spell you, I
can.”

“I’m good,” she said.

She wasn’t moving. Being able to see what was happening was the
only way to keep from freaking out. The tension alone made the hair crawl on the
back of her neck like it had when she was still on active duty and could almost
feel the insurgents somewhere nearby.

She and Jake watched the snowfall swirling below them like a
white tornado, with updrafts and downdrafts continuing to buffet Lincoln’s
body.

“Good thing he’s got body mass on his side. He’s holding his
own in that wind,” Jake said. “Have you seen Meg move?”

“No.”

Jake turned sideways to keep his face from taking the brunt of
the icy snow. “We got any medical help on the way up?”

“Marlow has a team on the way,” Mariah said.

He nodded, his gaze fixed on the man at the other end of the
rope.

“God help them,” he said.

Lincoln continued moving down. He checked his progress only
when he needed to judge the distance left to go, and he wouldn’t look at Meg,
too afraid of what he might see. When his foot finally touched firm foundation,
his heart skipped a beat.

He’d done it! He was down!

He gave the rope two quick shakes to let them know he was there
and then dropped to his knees. Still holding on to the rope, he was able to see
the extent of the ledge they were on. It was bigger than it had looked from
above—maybe twelve feet deep at its widest point.

He crawled to where Meg was lying and brushed the snow from her
face. His heart sank. It was like looking at a mannequin. She was pale and
still, and the blood that had been running down from her hairline had frozen to
her forehead.

He yanked off a glove and pressed his hand to the side of her
neck. Her skin was chilled, but the flesh was still supple, and he could feel
the pulse in her throat. He looked up—straight into the spotlight Mariah was
holding—and gave her a thumbs-up.

Mariah screamed. “She’s alive! Linc said she’s alive!’

Quinn tied off the rope, and then he and Jake’s sons rushed to
the rim.

Down on the ledge, Linc was praying to see even one small sign
of consciousness from Meg. He had his flashlight trained on her, trying to check
her condition through the spiraling snow. His size was something of a windbreak,
but as fast as he pushed the snow off, it came back in a swirl of ice and wind.
He was scared to move her for fear of causing permanent injury, and though he
talked to her, he knew that it was nearly impossible for her to hear him in the
maelstrom. He bent over, his mouth against her ear, hoping she could hear him
above the wind’s mighty shriek.

“Meg...Meggie, sweetheart, it’s me, Lincoln. Can you hear me?
You had a fall. Can you tell me where you hurt?”

She didn’t answer.

He angled his flashlight toward her face, then tried to part
her hair to see how deep the wound was, but her hair was so frozen it felt
brittle. He began digging through her pockets, found a sock cap and carefully
eased it on her head. A person lost a lot of body heat through the top of the
head, and he needed to keep her as warm as possible until the rescuers
arrived.

He ran his hands along her body, feeling her arms and legs for
signs of broken bones, then slid a hand beneath her coat to check for injuries.
Feeling her smooth midriff and flat belly was a blessing in itself, although he
had no way to tell if she was bleeding from within. After checking her as
thoroughly as he dared, he pulled out the radio and keyed it on, yelling to be
heard over the wind.

“This is Lincoln. Over.”

Quinn fired back. “Quinn here. What’s her status?”

“Obvious head injury. Bleeding has stopped, probably because of
the cold. No open fractures. Can’t tell about internal injuries, but I’d bet on
cracked ribs from the way she hit. I can feel her breath. She’s not in distress,
like she would be if a lung was punctured, but it’s too damn slow. She’s still
unconscious. Have no way to tell where she hurts. I’m going to cover us up with
the blanket and hope that warms her up. If I get her to wake up I’ll let you
know. Over.”

“Roger that,” Quinn said. “We’ll let you know when the search
team arrives. And, Linc...thank you. Over.”

“No thanks needed. It’s what you do for people you love. Over
and out.”

Linc put the radio down in front of him, then untied the
blanket and began trying to unfold it. One side of the blanket was made of
Mylar, which he knew would hold in body heat. The wind was battering them,
trying to yank the fabric out of Linc’s grasp, but he held fast as he scooted
right up to Meg, then flattened the blanket over her as best he could and rolled
under it, tucking it in lengthwise beneath him, then pulled the excess over
their heads, anchoring the other side by tucking it beneath her back. He held on
to the top with his right hand and the bottom with his feet, cocooning them
inside the makeshift shelter and still leaving one hand free to keep tabs on her
pulse.

Even though he could still hear and feel the wind, the blanket
made a decent tent, and he was hoping the Mylar would capture enough of their
combined body heat to warm her up. Now that they were secure, he switched on the
flashlight, angling it so that if she came to, the first thing she would see was
his face.

Nineteen

P
recious minutes passed as Linc waited for
a positive sign. When he realized the bruise on Meg’s cheekbone was the same
shape as the butt of the gun they’d taken off Prince White, he was heartsick at
what she’d suffered. Her mouth had obviously been bleeding even before she fell,
and it was swollen to the point that he wasn’t sure she could talk if she tried.
That injury was most likely the source of the blood they’d found in the barn. He
couldn’t quit thinking about how scared she must have been.

He kept rubbing her hands, trying to get the circulation
flowing while waiting for Quinn to key up the radio and let him know help had
arrived.

But the airwaves stayed silent, exacerbating his fear.

In the back of his mind he knew the rescue team should have
been there by now. What if they’d gotten lost? He needed to do something
positive, if for no other reason than to take his mind off how this might end,
so he started talking to her as if she could hear and understand.

“Hey, baby...guess what? Honey caught Prince White and took him
down all by herself. She chewed him up good before I got there and pulled her
off. She was absolutely amazing. When I let her out of that granary, she took
off running and didn’t stop until she caught him on the trails. All we could do
was follow. You would have been so proud of her. She’s waiting for you to come
get her. We need you, Meggie...please, sweetheart...please wake up. There are so
many things I want to tell you.” His voice broke, but he kept talking. “Fagan
White confessed to everything. Wendell and Prince killed my dad on Lucy’s
orders. The sheriff and his deputy heard the confession. They have Fagan and
Prince in jail. My name will be cleared and they’ll go to prison for Dad’s
murder.”

A sudden blast of wind hit his back, popping the ends of the
blanket so fiercely he had to take a tighter grip to keep it from flying away,
and yet in the midst of the madness, Meg lay as if dead. Tears began to run down
his cheeks as he touched the side of her face. It felt warmer than it had when
he’d first found her.

“Come back to me, baby. I don’t want to be in this world
without you.”

Like the answer to his prayer, Meg’s eyelids began to flutter,
and then she moaned.

Elated by the first positive sign he’d seen, he clutched her
hand.

“Meg. Open your eyes, sweetheart. Open your eyes!”

* * *

Meg was waking up in increments. She was cold—so
cold—and kept thinking she needed to put another quilt on her bed or turn up the
heat. There was a loud roaring in her ears, which confused her even more, and
she kept hearing a voice but couldn’t make out the words.

The more cognizant she became, the greater the pain, until it
ultimately engulfed her. She thought she was screaming, but all she heard was a
moan. Something brushed across her face, and she could hear someone crying.

It made her sad, but the roar in her head was so distracting
she couldn’t think. It kept getting louder and louder. She needed to get up.
Something was happening—something bad.

* * *

Linc was holding her hand and wasn’t letting go,
convinced it would be the anchor she needed to find her way back. She was
showing signs of regaining consciousness. All she needed was to focus on his
voice.

“Wake up now, Meggie. It’s time to wake up. I need you to tell
me where you hurt. You fell. You need to wake up now.” Then his voice broke.
“Please, God, please, give her back,” he said, then laid his cheek against her
hand. From that angle he was looking straight into her face. All she had to do
was open her eyes.

Meg’s eyelids fluttered again, and this time he saw her try to
take a deep breath. As she did, she moaned again.

He frowned. Broken ribs? Internal bleeding? God in heaven.

The wind was whipping the blanket so hard he could barely hear
himself think. What if she couldn’t even hear his voice?

In desperation, he yelled, “Open your eyes!”

And she did.

Linc swallowed a sob. “Hi, baby...hi, Meggie. It’s me,
Lincoln.”

She blinked in slow motion.

“Can you hear me?” he asked.

She blinked again. “Cold.”

“Yes, baby, it’s cold. You fell off the mountain. It’s snowing,
and we’re on a ledge waiting for the rescuers to get here. Do you remember what
happened?”

Her lids went shut, but there was a frown between her brows.
“Running,” she finally said.

“Yes, from Prince White. We caught him. He’ll never hurt you
again.”

A tear rolled out from beneath her eyelid and down the side of
her nose.

“Hurt.”

His stomach was in knots. This was what he’d been waiting for,
and now he was scared of what she would say.

“He hurt you, didn’t he? But he can’t hurt you again.”

Another tear rolled.

“Meg...you need to help me now. Can you tell me where you hurt?
Does your head hurt?”

“Hurt.”

“What about your back? Can you move your legs?”

“Hip.”

“Okay...your hip hurts?”

“Hurts.”

Little by little he questioned her, until he was fairly certain
that he had a grasp of where the worst of her injuries were. He grabbed the
radio and keyed it up as she drifted back out of consciousness.

“This is Lincoln. Over.”

“Quinn here. Over.”

“She came to. Her head and hip hurt. She can feel her legs, but
she won’t move because of pain, and I’m thinking her hip might be broken. She
has feeling everywhere, and she flinched when I pinched her leg. She could move
her fingers, but she didn’t try to lift her arms, and I don’t want her to move
for fear she’s got a back or shoulder injury. Where the hell is the rescue team?
Over.”

“They just got here. We’re rigging up a line to drop the basket
for Meg. Over.”

“A basket? Hell, no! The wind is too strong now. No matter how
tight I strap her in, her weight will roll her out when it tilts. Over.”

Quinn was shielding his radio with his body and still had to
shout to be heard.

“No. It has a top and a bottom. Locks together like a wire
casket. Sending a backboard and a neck brace with it. Attach neck brace first.
Then put the backboard against her spine and roll her faceup. The board will
stabilize her body. Strap her to it, then lift her into the basket. There are
extra blankets. Cover her head to toe. Lock down the top. We’ll haul her up on
your cue. Over.”

Linc was so cold he could feel himself growing lethargic. It
would have been easy to just lie down beside her and quit. He had to get her out
of there before hypothermia set in.

“Let’s get this done. Over.”

He put the radio back in his pocket and then patted Meg’s hand.
Her eyelids fluttered.

“Meg, honey...help is here. We’re going to take you off the
mountain and get you to a hospital. Do you trust me?”

He watched her nostrils flare slightly, and then she opened her
eyes. For a heartbeat she saw him.

“Love,” she whispered, and then closed her eyes.

There was a knot in his throat. “Oh Lord, Meggie...I love you,
too,” he muttered, and brushed a kiss across her forehead.

He was scared out of his mind that moving her would make things
worse and then was reminded that, short of death, things were never as bad as
they could be.

His radio squawked, then he heard Quinn’s voice.

“Lowering the basket. Over.”

Linc answered immediately. “We’re ready. Let’s do this.
Over.”

He lowered the blanket and looked up. The wind was an instant
blast against his face, but the snow was waning. Thank God for small favors. He
kept looking up until he could see the basket descending. Watching the wind
swinging it from side to side was a preview of how Meg would go up. He would
rather have moved the mountain they were on than take this chance, but the
decision was out of his hands.

“I love you, Meg. God help us,” he added, and he pushed the
blanket aside and then tucked it under his knee to keep it from blowing
away.

The wind was so strong and so cold it took his breath. He could
only imagine what it was doing to her, and once again he used his size as a
bulwark to shield her against the blast.

When the basket finally reached them he let his mind go blank
and began doing what Quinn had instructed him to do one step at a time—like
following a blueprint on a jobsite.

First the neck brace, then the backboard.

She moaned when he began to turn her.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” he muttered, and kept the motion slow
and smooth as he rolled her over, then fastened the straps across her body,
battling time and the elements. She was crying, but he didn’t think she was
fully conscious. Before, he’d wanted her to wake up, and now he wished to God
she would pass out.

“Here we go, honey. Up and over,” he said, and lifted her into
the bottom half of the basket. The shriek that came up her throat was loud
enough to be heard over the wind’s wicked whine. He wouldn’t let himself go
there and kept working. The faster he moved, the sooner she would be on her way
to safety.

He began tucking blankets in around her. The Mylar blanket was
the last he put over her, and when it was secure, he pulled it over her face.
There was nothing left to do but fasten her in. He pulled the top down and
flipped the locks, then tested it several times to see if he could pull it open.
It held tight. He grabbed his radio.

“Lincoln here. Pull her up. Over.”

“Roger that. As soon as she’s up, we’ll pull you up. Over.”

“Understood. Over and out.”

He kept his hand on the basket until they pulled her out of
reach, and even then he never took his eyes off the cage until it disappeared
into the spotlight. It gave him a chill, watching her ascend like a spirit going
into the light, and he had a sudden sense of panic that he’d just given her up
to God.

In the midst of his horror, calm suddenly washed over him. What
was he thinking? He’d already given her up to God. It was up to God to give her
back. It seemed like an eternity, but in reality it was only a few minutes
before his radio squawked again.

“Quinn here. We’ve got her. Over.”

The relief that went through Linc was brief. He still had to
get off this damn ledge, and they had to get
her
off
the mountain before an evaluation of her injuries was even possible.

His radio squawked again.

“On your feet, Linc. We’ve got your line. Over.”

“On my way. Over and out.”

Linc was on his feet and braced, waiting for the rope fastened
to his body harness to go taut. The second it lost slack he leaned back,
tightened his grip and started the brutal climb, fighting the buffeting winds
and icy shards.

About halfway up a gust of wind blew him sideways, slamming him
into the face of the mountain with such force that he hit his head, cut his
cheek and bit his lip. The salty taste of his own blood was in his mouth as he
swung back into position and resumed the climb one miserable step at a time.

By the time they pulled him over the rim onto solid ground his
legs were trembling. He dropped to his hands and knees, and when he finally
looked up the headlights of two ATVs were illuminating the clearing and heading
down the mountain.

Quinn came out of the darkness, dragged him to his feet and
then threw his arms around him and began pounding his back.

“You did it! You by God did it, Lincoln Fox! Our family owes
you forever! All you have to do is name it, and it’s yours.”

“All I want is Meg,” Linc said, handing Quinn the radio. Then,
despite the cold and the wind, he dropped his coat and shrugged out of the
harness.

Quinn began packing it up into his backpack as Mariah quickly
helped Linc back into his coat.

Linc’s vision was blurry from the battering cold, but it was
obvious the searchers up top hadn’t had it much easier than he and Meg had down
below. Even though Mariah’s snow gear had a hood, and she’d wrapped a thick
scarf around the lower half of her face, what he could see of her dark hair and
eyelashes was almost white with ice.

“You’re bleeding,” she shouted as she snapped him back into his
coat.

He felt the blood on his head and cheek and promptly ignored
it. “Where is she? Where’s Meg?”

“They’re already on the way down with her. That ride is yours,”
Mariah said, pointing to a four-wheeled ATV with a passenger seat on the
back.

He nodded. His legs felt like rubber, but he wasn’t going to
admit it. “Where’s Jake?”

“He left with Meg. Once the search party got here and realized
you’d found her, he sent Cyrus and Avery back with all the dogs. He said to tell
you they’re taking Honey to the vet tonight, even if they have to drag him out
of bed. There’s one more ATV for Quinn and me. We’ll meet you at the
hospital.”

Linc’s legs felt wooden as he headed for his ride.

Linc’s driver was in the seat, the engine idling. As soon as
Linc’s butt hit the seat, the driver put the ATV into gear. He pulled the sock
cap tight over his ears and grabbed hold. The ride was rough, the trail bumpy,
but knowing he didn’t have to take another step was nothing short of a blessing.
There wasn’t an ounce of strength left in his body.

* * *

Deputy Eddy was waiting at Meg’s house when Marlow came
down off the mountain with his prisoner. Prince was so battered he was barely
able to move, and when they put him into the backseat of the warm police
cruiser, out of the wind and cold, he passed out.

As they started back to town, Eddy began filling him in on the
latest.

“A Detective Kennedy from Mount Sterling P.D. called to inform
you that Lucy Duggan just admitted her brother wasn’t dead, and that he was the
one who assaulted her and tried to kill her husband. According to the story Lucy
told, Prince came back for money to get out of the country and found out Duggan
had cut her off. She said he flipped out, beat her up, stole her gun and tried
to kill Wesley.”