Adam and I left the cattle in the pasture nearest to the house, and then we galloped the horses the rest of the way. There was no truck of the

two men parked anywhere near by, and I said as much to Adam.

"They aren't back," I said, with relief.

Adam didn't answer that, but was down and off his horse and heading to the front porch. I was on his heels and we were halfway up the

front stairs when Brian came out, pushing the screen open.

He said nothing at first, only holding the door ajar so we could come in. I saw that he had a pistol tucked into the back of his jeans.

"Have they been back?" Adam asked, immediately.

Brian shook his head. "Nope."

"What about Jill?"

"Nope," Brian repeated.

Once inside, Hannah came from the kitchen area, drying her hands on a towel.

"I thought I heard your voice," she said, and went to wrap her arms around Adam.

"I thought maybe Jill'd get a ride out from somebody in town or something," Adam said.

"I was hoping, too, but she hasn't yet," Hannah said. She looked up into Adam's face. "I don't know what else to do."

"Not much we can do," he said. "Nancy back?"

"No. Evan came and then he left again, to try and track her down. Do you want some coffee? Or iced tea?"

"I'll take some tea," Adam said, sounding as though his thoughts were somewhere else.

Hannah went off towards the kitchen again, turning back to say, "Harlie, come and get yourself some water and a snack."

I said okay, but lingered, listening to Adam and Brian talking.

They both stepped to the front door, Adam holding the screen open with his fingertips as they looked out.

"Clare okay?" Adam asked Brian.

"Yeah. She went upstairs to rest. Took Scooter with her."

"Good."

"This is a hell of a mess," Brian said.

"Yeah," Adam said, sounding grim.

Hannah was back, bringing two glasses of tea, handing them off to Adam and to Brian.

"I think we should call the sheriff," Hannah said.

"And tell him what?" Adam asked. "She wasn't kidnapped. She went with them willingly, you say. There's nothin' a deputy

could do about that."

"Well, I know," Hannah said. "But, she didn't really want to go with them, Adam. I mean, it seemed as if she thought that's all that

she could do."

"What do you think, Brian?" Adam asked.

"I think we should give her a while longer-see what Daniel thinks first. It might not hurt for you two and Nancy and Clare to

write down what you remember about them. So as to identify them, in case we do end up callin' the sheriff," Brian said.

"Alright," Hannah said. "I'll get a notepad." She went towards the desk, rifling thru the drawer, searching for paper and pen.

"They were tall, both of them," Hannah said, and began writing. "Over six foot."

"And bulky," I said. "Like professional wrestlers."

"Yes," Hannah said, in agreement.

"Beards?" Brian suggested.

We both thought for a moment, and then shook our heads.

"No," Hannah said.

"They were wearing boots," I said, and then, since everybody we know, practically, wears boots in our area, I added, "Not cowboy boots. Like

motorcycle boots, or something. Black ones."

"Good that you noticed that," Hannah said, writing it down.

After a couple moments I added, "And tattoos."

Brian nodded in approval. "Good job, peach. Where at?"

"On their fingers." I held out my own hand to show them. "Right across the knuckles. I don't know what the symbols were. It was

hard to tell."

"I didn't even notice that," Hannah said.

"You were too busy trying to get them to leave," I defended.

"Anything else?" Adam asked us.

Hannah and I exchanged a glance and then shook our heads. "Not right now," Hannah said. "We'll ask Clare and Nancy, see if they noticed anything

different."

"Write down a description of the truck, too," Brian said, and so Hannah began doing that.

After that, the four of us stood there for a few moments, in silence.

"What a mess," Hannah said.

She sighed. "I think I'll go downstairs and fold some laundry. Call down if you need something." She paused to look back at me.

"Did you get a snack yet?" she asked.

"I will in a sec," I said.

"You will, now," Adam said, giving me one of his 'dad-type' looks. "Hannah shouldn't have to tell you. You know better."

I knew he was right, and I felt a wave of guilt. I was supposed to be responsible all of the time, with my diabetes.

I headed off to the kitchen without uttering a word back to him. I was involved in fixing myself some peanut butter and crackers, when

there was scuffling at the back door, and Guthrie came in. I left my task and went to lean against the door between the kitchen and back

porch. Guthrie was muddy and began pulling off his rain slicker and boots.

"Jill back?" he asked.

"No sign of her yet. Did you see Daniel?"

"Crane was gonna find him. He told me to head back."

I said 'oh', but I was inwardly relieved that it was Crane that was going to break the news of everything to Daniel. Crane would be calm enough

that it would keep Daniel calmer, too.

"I'm gonna grab a shower," Guthrie said.

"Okay. I'll tell everybody you're back."

I was cutting up an apple when I heard the roar of a four-wheeler, and went to the back door again, to look out.

It was Evan and Nancy, both, riding double on the ATV. I wondered what Evan had done with his horse.

Time passed, and everybody was gathered in the living room, when we heard the noise of the Jeep.

"Thank goodness," Hannah said, when Guthrie looked out, and announced that Crane and Daniel were back.

Guthrie held the door open, and we could hear Daniel's footsteps, and he came in with a burst.

"Jill here?" he demanded, immediately.

"No," Hannah said, coming near and rubbing his shoulder.

"How long has she been gone?" he asked.

Hannah looked at the three of us girls. "I think-about two and a half hours by now, right?"

"Yes, about that," Clare said, in agreement. "It was a little after two, and its almost five now."

Daniel asked all sort of questions. What did the men look like, what did they say to Jill, all of that.

There were a couple of times when his face got tighter, like when Hannah said that Jill knew them from Georgia, and

how Jill had said they likely wouldn't leave on their own.

Daniel paced for a few moments, and went to the door to look out, as if in deep thought. He was agitated, though. I could tell that he

was.

"We waited to call the sheriff, to see if you knew these guys, maybe, and see what you thought," Adam said, quietly.

"I don't know them," Daniel said. He looked outside again, and said, "I knew of them, yeah, but-" He stopped talking, and

Adam and Brian exchanged looks with each other, and then with Crane, and Hannah. I could tell that none of them knew just quite

Daniel meant. Well, except maybe for Crane. I figured that Daniel might have confided in Crane, if he did know anything about these

mysterious guys.

"What do ya think, Dan'l?" Brian asked.

Daniel turned to face the room full of all of us, his hands in his pockets. "I'm gonna go to town, drive around, see if I can find her."

"Why would she, though?" Evan pointed out. "Just go to Murphys? Where are they gonna sit at? It's not like there's a lot of options."

"I know, but I still think I should look around," Daniel said.

"I've got an idea," Crane suggested. "I'll go into town, see if I see the truck, or any sign of Jill. You can stay here and

talk to the sheriff. There's gonna be things that you need to answer that none of us are able to."

"Yeah," Daniel said, looking so bereft that it pinched at my heart. "I guess we'd better call the sheriff." He sounded as though he

didn't want to.

"I'll do it," Adam said, heading towards the telephone.

"I'll ride with you, Crane," Brian said. He gave Clare a hug, and I went to the door just as they were both heading outside.

"Can I come with you?" I asked, looking at the both of them.

"Oh, Harlie," Hannah began. "Why don't you stay here?"

I caught the eye of both Brian and Crane. "Please?" I asked, quietly.

"Alright by me," Brian said, and Crane nodded. I looked to Hannah, and she sighed.

"Alright," she said.

I grabbed a jacket and went to pull on my shoes hurriedly, and ran to catch up with Brian and Crane, when they were already by the

truck. Crane got behind the steering wheel, and Brian waited, waving me into the truck cab, and then climbing in after I was settled.

We drove the regular route to town, slowly, taking a second look at the side roads. Once in Murphys, it didn't take long to drive the

streets, looking for the men's pickup. We went past the bar, and the vacant parking lots, and all the other out of the way places

that people sometime parked. No sign anywhere. Brian suggested we drive on to Angels Camp.

"Doubt there's much use," he said. "But we ought to try."

Crane nodded, agreeing, and we drove on. We looked all over Angels Camp, too. It was while we were leaving, heading back to Murphys again,

that Brian said, "Hold it," and twisted to look back.

"See something?" Crane asked.

"I think, maybe so," Brian said. "Do a u-turn."

Crane did that, and Brian pointed down one of the side streets on the edge of town. "Past the Diggers," Brian said, naming a local bar.

We pulled up, and Brian pointed around to the side. "Thought I caught sight of a white truck," he said.

We drove closer and saw that there was, indeed a white truck parked.

There was no one in the truck cab, or standing nearby. Crane slowed nearly to a stop, just creeping along.

"That the truck, peach?" Brian asked me.

"I'm pretty sure, yeah," I said.

"Let's get a look at the license plate," Crane said, edging up a bit more, behind the truck.

The truck had a Tennessee license tag, and Brian said, "That's it."

"They're from Georgia, though," I said.

"How do you know that?" Brian demanded.

"Jill said they were," I offered, and then I shrugged.

Brian turned his attention back to the truck again. "That doesn't mean anything," he said. "How sure are you that that's the truck, peach?"

"I'm sure," I said.

The windows to the truck were down, and Brian got out, going over to it, to look inside briefly, thru the open window. He pulled down

the visor, disturbing some papers that fluttered down. He picked up a couple of them, skimming over them.

"Truck registration," he said, and then, a moment later, he stepped back over to our truck, a slip of paper in his hand.

"Take a look at that," Brian said, holding it out to Crane.

Crane reached out thru his own open window and took the paper from Brian.

They exchanged a look, then, and Brian shook his head. "That beats it all, don't it?" he said.

"What?" I asked, my curiosity brimming over.

Crane in turn handed the paper to me, and I read over it swiftly. Where it listed the registered owner it had

the name, "Jill Fleming."

Seven