Chapter 8 - The Gorge on Blackwood River
The rain fell in blinding sheets, turning the dirt trail along the edge of the Blackwood River into a treacherous river of thick brown mud. Lightning flashed across the jagged mountain peaks, illuminating the roaring white water eighty feet below in the rocky gorge.
Leo ran until his lungs felt like they were on fire, his small boots slick with mud, his blue shirt soaked through to his skin. Behind him, the rhythmic, heavy thudding of hooves announced the arrival of his giant protector. The black bull walked alongside him, its dark hide steaming in the cold night air, acting as a massive windbreak against the howling gale.
They reached the abandoned timber mill—a rotting wooden structure hanging precariously over the edge of the roaring river gorge.
This was where his father’s truck had been found.
Suddenly, two blinding shafts of light cut through the rain from the darkness ahead. A heavy 4x4 pickup truck blocked the narrow mountain road, its high beams catching Leo and the bull in a harsh, theatrical spotlight.
The truck door swung open. Harlan Vance stepped out into the mud, holding a heavy double-barreled shotgun under his arm, shielded from the rain by a wide-brimmed oilskin hat.
"I knew you'd come here, kid," Vance yelled over the roar of the thunder and the raging river below. "A dog always returns to where its master died."
The bull lowered its head instantly, letting out a ferocious, guttural roar that vibrated through the mud beneath their feet. It stepped in front of Leo, its long horns aiming straight at the truck's radiator grille.
"Don't bother with the animal, boy!" Vance shouted, raising the shotgun and aiming it directly at the bull's head. "This gun is loaded with big-game slugs. One shot will drop him where he stands."
Leo reached up, pressing his small hand against the bull's muscular neck, feeling the violent tremors running through the animal.
"I have the card!" Leo screamed into the storm, taking the tiny micro-SD card from his pocket and holding it up against the glare of the headlights. "My dad recorded you! He recorded you talking about dumping the toxic waste into the river and faking the land deeds! It's all on here!"
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Vance froze. His finger tightened slightly on the trigger, his face twisting into a mask of pure, murderous hatred.
"Then you're coming with your dad, kid," Vance snarled, raising the barrel of the gun.
