My head snapped up, and I saw him running toward me in the rain with his gun raised.
“What’d you do to him?” He stopped short when he got a better look at me—the teenage girl standing over his unconscious two-hundred-pound friend. “Who are you?”
It was then that I recognized the man. Pete Bradshaw’s only uncle, Jeff Bradshaw. I’d met him once, when my family were guests at Pete’s sister’s wedding two summers ago. He looked a lot like Pete’s dad, only blond, but he was only a few years older than we were. April had practically swooned when Jeff had asked her to dance at the wedding.
What on earth was I supposed to do now? I didn’t have time to think of a proper excuse for what I had done—and he might recognize me, too, if I let him look at me any longer.…
The white wolf let out a sharp growl. Jeff started to swing his gun around, ready to shoot at the crouching animal. Before he could finish the movement, I lunged for him, grabbed the end of his rifle, yanked it from his hands, and then swung it at him like baseball bat. The butt of the gun made a cracking noise as it smacked against the side of his head—almost as if I’d hit a home run. He fell to the ground, unconscious but still breathing, next to his friend.
The rain thickened. My soaked clothes clung to my shivering body. Lightning and thunder crashed as the white wolf arched his head back in a great, earsplitting howl. The first hunter I’d knocked down let out an answering groan. He’d be conscious soon. I had to get Daniel out of here.
“Come,” I said to the white wolf, motioning to him.
He whined, and I was afraid he’d try to run away.
“Come, please.”
He stepped cautiously toward me until his snout was almost touching my chest. I threaded my fingers into the wet fur around his neck. “This isn’t over yet. Not until you’re safe.”
He let out a grunt as if he understood.
“Let’s go, then.”
Chapter Seventeen
NOT OUT OF THE WOODS YET
HEADED HOME
Rain poured down on us as we ran. Like a full-on monsoon had blown into Minnesota. I carried the two rifles I’d taken off the hunters and ran through the forest with the great white wolf at my side. Our feet sank deep into the mud with each step, but I prayed the rain would wash away our trail. What if Pete’s uncle Jeff had recognized me? Would he remember who I am? With that much money on the line—not to mention wanting to get even with someone who’d bashed you in the head with a rifle—I knew those two hunters would probably come looking for us as soon as they regained consciousness. How long that would be, I didn’t know. It’s not like I made a habit of knocking people out.
We headed in the direction of my house because I didn’t know where else to go. Where was I going to hide a giant white wolf?
Daniel’s footfalls started to falter. He slowed to a lumbering jog.
“Are you okay?”
He glanced at me with his glinting eyes. His fur was as soaked as my clothing, water dripping off his muzzle. He whined, then took another few limping steps, and then came to a halt. He whimpered as he sat, shaking his head in what seemed like frustration—or pain.
“Come on!” I whispered loudly. “We can’t stay here. It’s not safe.”
He looked back in the direction from where we’d come—back to where the hunters were—and growled. But the growl broke off into another whine. He shook one of his front legs, and I noticed a patch of blood on his shoulder.
“Did you get hit by one of those bullets?”
He whine-growled in response.
No wonder he couldn’t run anymore.
What on earth was I going to do? How could I hide a giant, injured, white wolf?
“I need you to press forward. We need to keep going.”
Did he even really understand me?