Stories of Tie Up Games

Jenny_S wrote: 1 week ago
Erica doesn’t answer right away.
Because she doesn’t know.
Because she has no plan.

But she needs one.
Fast.

And I for one am looking forward to discovering what this plan might be

Great chapter, the ending here especially, the short sentence structure. Excellent.

This has became totally absorbing. And i am totally gripped. Just how is Erica going to resolve this?

Dear @RopeBunny, dear @LunaDog, praise like this, coming from such acclaimed board members as yourselves, is more than could hope for.

We will see what kind of a plan Erica comes up with. I promise.

Erica bites her lower lip till she tastes blood on her tongue, the pain steadying her.
She wants - desperately - to promise Margaret that everything will be okay by tomorrow. That Sarah will be back home. But she can’t. She doesn’t know that.
“I’ll find a way,” she rasps, forcing conviction into her voice. “I’ll look for her. She must be here somewhere.”

Thinking on her feet has always been one of her strengths. She thrives under pressure, relishes the challenge of outmaneuvering an opponent. But now… this isn’t a courtroom, and the stakes are so much higher. Sarah Henshaw is out there, terrified, cold and alone. God only knows where they took her.

“Margaret, listen to me.” Erica sits forward, gripping the phone tighter. “Call Gibbon first thing tomorrow. Tell him you want to meet. He’s so full of himself, he’ll believe he has you cornered. Play for time.”
Silence stretches between them. When Margaret finally speaks, her breathing is hard and audible and her voice is raw. “Okay… I’ll do it.”

Erica exhales, pressing her fingers to her temple.
The older woman is holding on by a thread.
And Erica?
She’s not far behind.

“Keep me updated, okay?” she says. “While you negotiate, I’ll look for Sarah.”

After the call ends, Erica lets the phone slip from her fingers and sinks back onto the bed. Her heart pounds in her ears, matching the storm of thoughts crashing through her mind. She stares at the ceiling, jaw clenched. The suite in its opulence and silence suddenly feels suffocating.
Shouldn’t she have seen this coming? Shouldn’t she have sensed anything? Has the role she was playing clouded her judgement?

If Gibbon’s men took Sarah, where would they hide her?
Stone Ridge. It’s the obvious choice.

The property is massive - an empire of sleek arenas, pristine trails, and fine stables. But beneath all that luxury, there are shadows.
Places no guest or client ever sees.

She picks up her phone again, pulls up the Stone Ridge Equestrian app. A detailed map of the premises loads on the screen. Her eyes flick over the neatly labeled areas - Barns. Storage. Workshops. Staff Quarters.
She scans the map a second time and her stomach twists as she spots them: a handful of buildings marked: Off Limits. Staff Only. Private.

That’s where she’d hide a hostage.

Erica’s pulse quickens. She has a plan now. Tomorrow morning, she’ll go searching. And to keep things inconspicuous, she’ll do the one thing no one here would question - taking Lea for a ride.
“If she’s there, I’ll find her.” Erica says to herself. And then, with more resolution in her voice “I’m coming for you, Sarah. Just hang on, okay…”


~~~


Sleep is a fleeting, fractured thing. Erica tosses and turns restlessly in bed, her mind cycling through every possibility, every dark scenario of where Sarah might be.
When she finally dozes off, the images don’t stop - shadows moving in the dark, muffled screams, hands bound. She jolts awake, breath sharp, heart hammering.

The luminous dial of her Rolex dive watch glows in the darkness: the hour and minute markers seem frozen, refusing to move forward. 3:12 AM. She exhales slowly, pressing her fingers against her eyes. Time is dragging, stretching unbearably thin.

By the time the first hint of dawn creeps into the sky, she gives up.
She swings her legs over the edge of the bed, her bare feet meeting the polished hardwood with a soft thud.
A quick, scalding shower clears the fog in her mind.
She moves mechanically - toweling off, securing her hair into her usual sleek ponytail.
Stay sharp, she tells herself.

She dresses with purpose: fitted jodhpurs, a snug long-sleeved polo, her well-worn riding boots, and a black softshell jacket. Functional. Unremarkable. Perfect for blending in.

Skipping her usual morning run is a calculated choice. She doesn’t need to draw unnecessary attention to herself. No one would question an equestrian walking to the stables, but a runner out there on the property? Out of place. Suspicious.

The resort is still eerily quiet as she steps outside, the crisp morning air biting at her skin. The main lodge looms ahead, its massive windows still dark, save for the faintest glow from the lobby and the brightly lit restaurant.

Inside, the scent of fresh coffee wraps around her, rich and bitter. The machine growls to life, filling a white Stone Ridge Equestrian ceramic mug with steaming black liquid. She rips open two packets of Sweet’n Low, watching the white crystals dissolve before adding a splash of almond milk.
One sip. Then go.

“Good morning!”
The unexpected voice behind her sends a flicker of unease down her spine.

She turns, fingers tightening around her mug. A man stands there, his jogging suit slightly too large, giving him a casual, disheveled look.

“Morning,” she replies, stepping aside. Move on. Keep it short.

“All bright-eyed and bushy-tailed?” he asks as he reaches for a cup.

She forces a small, polite smile. Wrong day to test my patience, buddy.
“No need to burn daylight,” she says, taking a measured sip.

“Enjoy your day, then.” He stirs sugar into his espresso, seeming to recognize that she’s not one for idle chatter.

Erica drains the rest of her coffee, setting the mug down with quiet finality.
“Thank you,” she says, already turning toward the exit.
Every second wasted is another second Sarah remains missing.


~~~

Jenny_S wrote: 1 week ago Every second wasted is another second Sarah remains missing.

Indeed it is!

Sleep is a fleeting, fractured thing. Erica tosses and turns restlessly in bed, her mind cycling through every possibility, every dark scenario of where Sarah might be.

I do love that laconic Style of yours dear @Jenny_S , not one Word too much. Every Word perfectly in Place.

Erica has made up her mind and she will act.

Dear @LunaDogso tonight we'll see what Erica does to find Sarah.

Dear @Caesar73, I try to be cinematic in my writing to give the reader something to work with.
I'm not sure if Erica's plan is really bombproof, after all, she's surrounded by Gibbon and the people on his payroll.

Outside, the air feels sharper now, carrying the crisp scent of hay and damp earth. The world is hushed, caught in that eerie stillness before sunrise. Somewhere out there, Sarah Henshaw is waiting. Alone. Terrified.

Erica rolls her shoulders, forcing herself to look natural as she crosses the yard to the stables.
The stable building looms ahead, its silhouette dark against the pale pre-dawn sky. A single light glows in the stablemaster’s office - a weak, flickering presence. Someone is always on duty at Stone Ridge. That much is expected.

She steps into the warm, hay-scented air of the stable and moves toward Lea’s stall. The mare stirs, her dark eyes watching Erica’s approach.
“Hey, girl,” Erica whispers, running a steadying hand along Lea’s muzzle. The horse chuffs softly, a moment of warmth against the cold tension coiling in Erica’s chest. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

Just saddling Lea and riding out without checking in feels… careless and suspicious.
She heads toward the office. It’s a small courtesy - letting staff know she’s taking her horse out - but it also gives her a cover.
Except when she steps inside… no one’s there.

Her stomach tightens. The chair behind the desk is empty and no one is to be seen anywhere around.
“Anybody home?” Erica calls, voice even. No answer. Maybe the staff member went to grab a coffee.
Casting her gaze over the office again, she sees it: a purse left on the desk. And next to it, an access card on a lanyard. A closer look shows that it’s Kelly Garner’s access card.

Something shifts in Erica’s gut. A pulse of instinct, sharp and certain. That card could possibly get her into restricted areas. Areas where Sarah might be.

Her fingers twitch.

Taking it is stealing.
And theft, however small, doesn’t sit well with her.
But Sarah Henshaw is out there.
Alone.
Taken.

The choice makes itself.

A breath in.
A glance around.
No security camera.
No witnesses.

In one smooth motion, she snatches the lanyard and tucks it into the zippered pocket of her jacket.
Done.

The card is out of sight, but her pulse is hammering now, loud in her ears. A sharp pang of doubt coils in her gut - would her father approve of this? It feels like he’s watching her, but it’s too late for second thoughts now.

Erica spins on her heel, grabbing Lea’s bridle and saddle blanket as she moves. Every second she lingers, the risk grows.

She’s just about to tighten the straps on the saddle when she senses a presence behind her.
“Good morning. You’re up early.”

Erica freezes for half a heartbeat before forcing herself to turn slowly.
Kelly Garner leans against the stall door, arms folded.

Of course she had to show up…

Erica schools her features into a neutral mask, forcing an easy smile despite the thrum of adrenaline in her veins.
“Yep. I hate burning daylight,” she says, her tone light, casual. “Good morning, by the way.”

Kelly could leave now, but lingers and Erica continues to focus on the saddle straps, adjusting them like this is just another normal morning. Like her heart isn’t slamming against her ribs.

The stablemistress steps closer.
“Could I have a word with you, Mrs. Sinclair?”

Too casual. But also… too deliberate.
Erica straightens, shoulders squared. Whatever this is, she’s ready for it.
“Sure.” She keeps her tone neutral.
Waiting.
Calculating.

For a beat, Kelly just watches her. The silence stretches - too long. Then, finally, in a low yet sincere tone “I think I might have been a little… brusque… yesterday.” A pause. “I’d like to apologize.”

Erica blinks. This is not what she was expecting.
For a brief, panicked second, she’d thought Kelly would confront her about the access card. But no. This is something else.
She reaches out, shaking Kelly’s offered hand.
“It’s alright, Mrs. Garner. No offense taken.”

But even as she says it, her pulse remains on edge.
Because she has something to lose.


~~~


Kelly steps back, hands slipping into the pockets of her jacket. "Enjoy your ride," she says, and there’s something almost relieved in her tone - like she’s glad to have smoothed things over.

Erica nods, her expression composed. "Thank you. Have a great day," she says as she swings herself into the saddle in one smooth motion, glad herself that her little fast one hadn’t been discovered.
She clicks her tongue, slackens the reins, and Lea moves forward, hooves clipping rhythmically against the aisle’s concrete floor.
As they step into the crisp morning air, Erica runs a hand through the mare’s mane, her fingers brushing the sleek, warm strands. "Good girl," she murmurs. "Saving the day already."
But her pulse hasn’t settled. Not yet.

The estate stretches before her, vast and shadowed in the pre-dawn hush. Most of the world is still asleep, the sky a deep, velvet blue that hasn't yet given way to morning. Glancing at her Rolex, Erica notes the time - just under thirty minutes until sunrise. Thirty minutes to disappear before staff and guests begin to stir.

She nudges Lea into a steady trot, taking the narrow riding trail that winds toward the farthest part of the estate. The path is lined with trees, their skeletal branches swaying slightly in the breeze, the scent of damp earth rising from the ground beneath them. Somewhere in the distance, a lone owl calls - faint, almost mournful.

Her destination lies ahead: the feed barns, maintenance sheds, and utility buildings - the places marked "Staff Only" and "Private."
No one is supposed to be here this early. That’s the hope, anyway.


~~~

So Kelly is a decent person after all, just as suspected. However Sarah is still needing help. Will Kelly, indirectly and unknowingly, help her here?

Dear @LunaDog, despite drawing her pay from Stone Ridge, Kelly is Ironwood at heart. Unknowingly, she donated her access badge to the good cause, but we'll see if she might get involved further.

She slows Lea to a walk, guiding the mare along the edge of the first shed. The structure is dark and silent, its metal siding dull in the weak light. Erica pulls the reins, bringing Lea alongside it.
For a moment, she simply listens.
The only sounds are Lea’s slow breathing and the occasional soft creak of leather as the mare shifts her weight.
No voices. No footsteps. No muffled cries.

Reaching into her jacket, Erica pulls out a pocket-sized flashlight. A small, sharp beam cuts through the dimness as she angles it toward the open doorway. Dust motes swirl in the light, revealing the interior - workbenches, small machinery, a few neatly stacked feed sacks.
No trace of Sarah.
Her jaw tightens. One building down. Too many left to go.
She exhales slowly, then nudges Lea forward again, deeper into the quiet, shadowed heart of Stone Ridge.


~~~


A short ride further, the next building emerges from the gloom - a large, solid barn with weathered wood siding and a peaked roof. In the weak pre-dawn light, Erica’s sharp eyes pick out fresh vehicle tracks in the gravel leading up to it. That makes sense. No one would haul heavy feed sacks by hand when they could use a truck.

She scans the area, turning slightly in the saddle. The road. The trees. The distant stable. At this hour, if anyone were driving around the property, their headlights would cut through the darkness. But the landscape remains still.

Quiet.
No movement.
No signs of life.

She exhales and slides out of the saddle, landing lightly on her feet. Lea shifts beside her, ears twitching as Erica steps toward the barn door.

Locked.
Of course.

Her gloved fingers move swiftly, unzipping the chest pocket of her softshell jacket. The plastic of Kelly Garner’s access card feels smooth against her palm.
She hesitates.
A final glance around - still nothing.
Then she presses the card against the electronic lock.

A soft click. The magnetic lock disengages with a quiet mechanical hum.
The door shifts an inch.
Her pulse tightens.

Slowly, carefully, Erica pries it open just enough to stick her head inside. The air is thick with the scent of mountain hay and grain, a grounding, earthy smell. She pulls out her flashlight, its narrow beam slicing through the shadows.

Stacks of hay. Rows of feed sacks, some of them collapsed.
No movement. No sound.

Still, she whispers, voice low but deliberate. “Sarah?”
Her heart beats faster as she listens. Waiting.
Nothing.

Then it dawns on her. She’s fallen victim to her own methodical – sometimes a little too conventional – thinking.
They wouldn’t keep Sarah in a place used daily.

She curses herself under her breath and quickly shuts the door, making sure the lock re-engages. The last thing she needs is someone noticing it was left ajar.

Pulling herself into the saddle, she exhales sharply. “I’m so stupid.”
Lea flicks her ears and throws up her head, chortling as if in agreement.
Erica huffs out something between a sigh and a laugh, reaching down to stroke the mare’s neck. "Alright, alright. Let’s get it right next time.”

She pulls her phone from her pocket and opens the Stone Ridge app, zooming in on the outskirts of the property. The outermost buildings marked ‘Private’ and ‘Staff Only.’
Her pulse kicks up. That’s where she needs to go.

The first rays of sunlight pierce through the horizon, streaking the sky in orange and deep blue.
East.
Erica clicks her tongue, tightening her grip on the reins. Lea responds instantly, surging forward into a canter.
They race toward the rising sun.
Toward the truth.


~~~


Erica urges Lea eastward, the mare’s hooves drumming a steady rhythm against the packed dirt trail.
The estate is beginning to wake up. A distant engine hums, the occasional clang of metal on metal - signs of movement creeping into the morning stillness.
She casts a glance over her shoulder.
No one in sight yet.
But that won’t last.
Every minute brings more people onto the grounds, more eyes, more risk.

The outermost buildings come into view - utility sheds, barns, their hulking shapes still cloaked in pre-dawn shadow.
But Erica doesn’t slow. Her focus is locked on a single destination.
A cabin marked as “Private”.

It looms ahead, nestled among a thick copse of trees.
Secluded.
Isolated.
Romantic even.
A gravel-strewn trail leads up to it, tire tracks etched fresh in the dirt.
Someone’s been here recently.

Her pulse kicks up as she swings out of the saddle, boots crunching softly against gravel. The reins fall loose, but Lea stays put, ears flicking as if sensing her rider’s urgency. The mare knows better than to bolt unless truly spooked.

Erica’s eyes focus onto the electronic lock beside the door. She unzips her jacket pocket, fingers tightening around Kelly Garner’s access card.

Please work. If this fails, she’s running out of time – and out of options.
She presses the card to the reader.

Nothing.
No beep. No soft click of the magnetic lock releasing.

She tries again.

Silence.

“Dammit,” she hisses, frustration flaring hot and fast.

She yanks at the door handle, testing its resistance.
Locked.
Solid.
The magic card won’t help her this time.
The door looks indestructible - wood reinforced with steel.
She’d break her shoulder trying to force it open.

Her heart hammers as she stalks around the side of the cabin, scanning for another way in. A window, maybe, or a cellar door?

Her breath catches.
The windows are covered. Cardboard or thick crafting paper blocks the glass, sealing off any view inside.
They don’t want anyone looking in.

She presses a palm flat against one pane, testing it for movement, then raps her knuckles sharply against the glass.

Thump. Thump.

Nothing.

She tries again, harder this time.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Still nothing…

Then she hears it.
A sound so faint she almost thinks she imagined it.
A muffled sob.

The blood drains from her face.
Erica flattens her ear against the window, straining to catch it again.
There.
Soft.
Broken.
A stifled, gasping breath.

Sarah.
It must be her!


~~~

Let's hope it is. But what then?

Dear @LunaDog, if it is Sarah, Erica needs to get to her and then - she needs a plan, I guess. At this moment, it seems she's flying this by the seat of her pants. Or maybe not?

Erica freezes for a brief moment. The images of her friend Andrea Santos held captive by Tony Maze flash through her mind.
The gangster shot her in the back in her effort of rescuing Andrea…

She whirls around, frantically scanning the area, mind racing.
There has to be another way inside.

She steps back, eyes sweeping over the cabin. The door is locked. The windows are blocked. But… what about the back? The roof? A weak spot?
Her fists clench.

She didn’t come this far to stop now.

As if through a thick mist, she believes that she might hear voices in the distance. Or a vehicle coming up the trail. But maybe it is just her mind playing tricks on her.


~~~


Erica’s gaze locks onto a makeshift bench near the trees - a crude thing possibly made ages ago, half a log with scrap wood nailed to it.
It’ll do.
It has to do.

She grabs Lea’s reins, looping them securely around the cabin’s sturdy door handle. The mare shifts her weight but stays obedient, ears flicking forward as if sensing the tension rolling off Erica in waves.
“You stay here, girl, okay?” Erica murmurs, smoothing a reassuring hand down Lea’s sleek neck. “Things might get a little rough now.”

The horse exhales in response, a warm gust of breath against the morning chill.

With urgency pounding in her chest, Erica rushes toward the bench, planting her boots firmly in the dirt as she yanks it loose. It resists at first, tangled in the underbrush, but she forces it free with a hard pull.
Being athletic has its advantages.

Lifting the heavy bench, she strides back to the cabin, muscles straining, heart hammering. She inhales deeply, bracing herself, then on the count of three, swings the bench up onto her shoulder and - eyes closed and face turned away- uses it as a battering ram against the window.

The sound seems deafening in the hush of the early morning, the impact rattles through her arms, jolting up to her shoulders.
Again. She grits her teeth, slamming it harder.
The third blow does it.
Shards fly past her face.
She stumbles back, heart pounding, muscles screaming.

Erica drops the bench, her breath heaving. No alarms. No shouting voices. Just the faint rustling of the trees and Lea’s steady, unbothered breaths.

She doesn’t hesitate.
Using the bench as a step, she clears the remaining jagged edges with a swipe of her gloved hand and hauls herself through the opening.

She lands in a low crouch, poised, ready. The scent of stale sweat, wood, and dust clings to the air.
Then she hears it.
The muffled sobs.

Erica whirls, flashlight in hand, sweeping the beam across the cabin’s cramped interior. The narrow space feels oppressive, the glow of her light barely reaching the corners.

And then…
Her stomach lurches.

Sarah.

She’s bound, arms stretched above her head, wrists lashed together with zipties, a length of plastic rope suspending her from a ceiling beam. Her ankles are tied too, keeping her immobile, vulnerable.
A black cloth bag is pulled over her head, obscuring her face.

The small, choked sounds coming from underneath it are ragged, broken.

Erica’s throat tightens.
"They left her like this all night." The thought burns through Erica’s mind, white-hot and sickening.

“Sarah!” Erica hurries forward, voice low but firm. “I’ll get you out of here.”

Sarah flinches, her body trembling violently.

Erica’s flashlight beam dances across the room, searching. There - a small workbench. A row of gardening tools. A pair of wire cutters.

“Hold on,” Erica says, trying to keep her voice steady. “I’m here.”

She snatches the wire cutters off the tool hanger, rushing back. Sarah’s shoulders hurt, her body is swaying from the strain of being suspended for so long.

“I’ll cut you free, okay,” Erica murmurs. “No fear.”

A tiny, hesitant nod beneath the bag, a muffled groan from her gagged mouth.

The sharp snap of the wire cutters slicing through the first ziptie makes Erica’s hands tremble.
Snap. Snap.
The rest break apart easily.

When Erica slices through the last restraint, Sarah’s arms drop like dead weight. A hoarse whimper escapes her lips.
Too long. Too tight. The circulation hasn’t returned yet.
Sarah sways dangerously.
Her wrists are raw and bleed from the zipties cutting into her flesh, her hands are swollen.
Erica barely catches her in time.

She yanks the hood off, and her heart clenches at what she sees.
Sarah’s face is puffy, tear-streaked, her eyes red and dazed. Layers of silver duct tape stretch over her mouth.

Erica holds her steady before the woman’s legs buckle and she collapses.
“It’s alright, Sarah,” she murmurs, wrapping an arm around her. “I’ve got you.”

She eases Sarah down onto the floor, peeling the tape gently off her cracked lips. Sarah gasps, taking in shaky, gulping breaths, her fingers clutching weakly at Erica’s jacket.
The woman stares at her, wild-eyed.
Frightened. Disoriented.

Erica crouches beside her, voice urgent.
“Listen - we need to go. Now.”

She glances toward the window, ears straining for any sound outside. Still quiet. But for how much longer?

“I have my horse outside,” she says. “We have to ride.”

Sarah nods weakly, but her body sags against Erica. She’s in no condition to run.
Erica’s jaw tightens.
She’ll carry her if she has to.
No way in hell is she leaving her here.


~~~

There's still work to be done, but the fightback has started!

Dear @LunaDog, absolutely right. Finding Sarah was one thing, getting her out - another.

A sharp chortle from Lea snaps Erica’s attention to the outside. The mare shifts her weight, hooves grinding into the gravel. Her ears flick sharply, nostrils flaring as she lets out a sharp, anxious snort.

Something’s coming.

Then – in the distance the low, unmistakable rumble of an approaching vehicle, headlights piercing dawn.

Erica’s pulse spikes.
Whether it’s a random worker, security, or Sarah’s captors returning to check on her doesn’t matter now. She’s running out of time.

Erica grips Sarah’s frail shoulders, shaking her hard.
“Sarah, we need to go. Now.” Her voice is urgent, steady - like she can force her will into Sarah’s limp body.

But Sarah doesn’t respond. Her lips part, but all that escapes is a broken, breathless, “…can’t…”
“Damn it!” Erica’s gut twists. She’s barely hanging on.
Then - her father’s voice in her head, sharp and fierce. “Never give up.”
Erica’s jaw locks. “Can’t is not an option.”

Sarah’s head lolls forward, her body slumping.
“Not now. Not when they’re this close.”

Gritting her teeth, Erica moves behind her, hooking her arms beneath Sarah’s, gripping her right forearm in a solid hold.
With a grunt, she heaves her up.

Sarah barely moves.

Erica shifts her stance, planting her feet. Her muscles burn as she yanks again, harder this time.
It’s like trying to lift a dead weight, except this isn’t a barbell in a gym. This is a human being, limp, drained, barely holding on and almost slipping through her grip.
Sweat beads at Erica’s forehead as she staggers toward the open window, dragging Sarah step by step.

“I’ll haul you out if I have to, you hear me?” she growls. “I promised Margaret, I’d get you home, and by God, I will get you home.”

She feels Sarah’s ragged breath against her arm, but there’s no answer.
With a surge of effort, Erica props her up against the wall, bracing her against the jagged frame of the shattered window.

The vehicle’s engine noise grows louder. Tires crunch over gravel.
They’re almost here.

She hooks Sarah’s limp arms over the splintered edge and heaves.
One push.
Two.
For a terrifying second, Sarah sags, and Erica’s heart lurches - but then, something changes.

A gasp.
A jolt of movement.
Sarah’s body stiffens.

Maybe it’s the shock of the cold morning air slamming into her lungs, or the distant sound of the approaching vehicle, but suddenly, her legs kick out, her arms flail, her survival instinct taking over.
She’s fighting to get through.

“Yes! That’s it!” Erica grits out.
“One – two - three!”

With a final, desperate heave, she shoves Sarah through the window.
Sarah tumbles down onto the other side, landing with a thud and a choked-out groan.

Erica doesn’t wait.
She swings herself over the frame, glass crunching beneath her boots.
She’s halfway through when the headlights cut through the twilight like knives.
The vehicle is close.
Too close.

No time.
No time...


~~~


On the other side of the cabin, Lea snorts, hooves stomping, muscles twitching beneath her sleek coat. She knows something is wrong. The sharp scent of fear, the tension in the air - she feels it all.

Erica’s mind flashes back to her father’s voice, a memory as vivid as the rising sun.
“Never, never, never give up, Erica! Fight like the third lioness on Noah’s Ark as it’s starting to rain.”
Her jaw sets. “Damn right, Dad.”

She yanks Sarah to her feet.
“Let’s ride, pilgrim,” she rasps, pushing the young woman forward.

Sarah stumbles, nearly crumpling onto the dirt, but somehow, she fights to stay upright.
Sheer desperation fueling her legs.

A low growl of an engine sends a shiver up Erica’s spine.

Tires spit gravel.
Then - headlights cut through the trees.

A black pickup truck - Stone Ridge logo gleaming like a brand of ownership - screeches to a halt.
Doors slam open.

Voices: male, urgent, angry.
“Stop!”

Erica’s heartbeat hammers in her ears.
She grabs Lea’s reins and throws herself into the saddle in one practiced motion. The mare shuffles uneasily, picking up on the tension, ears flicking back.
“Come on! One foot in the stirrup!” Erica barks at Sarah, holding out her hand.

Sarah’s red, swollen face twists in fear, but Erica sees something else in her eyes too - a flicker of determination, the last ember of a fire refusing to go out.

“Do it!” Erica shouts.

Sarah lunges, groans, grasps for Erica’s arm.

Erica pulls her up, fast and hard - too hard.
Sarah slams against her back, nearly overbalancing them both.
Lea throws her head, nostrils flaring, sensing the urgency.

Those voices… heavy boots on gravel.
“Grab her!”

Erica doesn’t hesitate. She yanks Lea’s head around, digs her heels in, and whispers “Run, girl.”

Lea explodes forward.

A man - a familiar one, one of the hands who helped transport Lea from Ironwood Pastures - reaches for the reins.

Too late.
Lea’s massive shoulder slams into him, sending him sprawling into the dirt.

Another man jumps forward, but he’s a step too slow.
He barely has time to curse before Lea’s powerful stride carries them past and Sarah’s flailing foot pushes him back.

Behind them, a truck door slams. An engine roars.
They’re not safe yet.
Erica leans low, feeling Sarah’s shaking arms tighten around her waist.
“Hold on!” she growls, pressing Lea forward.

Faster.
Harder.
Away.

“My God…” Sarah cries, but she’s been around and on horses most of her life.
She knows how to hang on.

The road is narrow, the trees thick.
The truck has power, but Lea has speed, agility - and the will to escape.
But how long before they run out of trail?


~~~

How long indeed? Utterly superbly told, no surprise there.

Dear @LunaDog, I promise we will see.
Thank you for the kind compliment.

Lea lunges forward, her powerful strides tearing into the earth as she bolts toward the tree line. Erica leans low over the mare’s neck, her fingers tangled in the reins, her breath ragged. Behind her, she feels Sarah’s desperate grip tighten around her waist, knuckles digging into her ribs.
The truck’s engine roars to life.

Gravel spits from its tires as it swings around, skidding in a wide arc. The driver doesn’t waste time - he knows they can’t match Lea’s speed cross-country, but the trails wind through the estate like veins. If they move fast, they could cut her off before she reaches open land.

The headlights slash through the trees, bouncing wildly over the rough terrain.

Erica grits her teeth.
“Hold on, Sarah,” she cries, shifting her weight forward and pressing her heels into Lea’s flanks.

The mare stretches out, her muscles rippling beneath Erica as she veers into the woods, dodging low-hanging branches with sharp, instinctive movements.

Behind them, the truck’s tires screech on the dirt.

The driver isn’t giving up. Instead of following directly, the vehicle turns off to the left, keeping to the wider trail, hoping to intercept them further ahead.

Erica’s pulse hammers.
They’re being hunted.

She risks a glance back - two men in the cab, another in the truck bed gripping the roll bar, his face twisted in anger.
One of them points toward the bend ahead. They know this land much better than she does.

Think, Erica. Think!
The main trails are too exposed.
If she keeps on them, they’ll be waiting at every turn.

Then…to the right…a narrow deer path snakes through the brush, barely visible in the dawn light.
It’s dangerous.
Uneven.
Thick with roots and brambles.

Perfect.

She yanks the reins, guiding Lea sharply off the main track.
The mare responds instantly, hooves crunching into fallen leaves as they dive into the underbrush, snorting as if she enjoys the ride.

Branches whip past Erica’s face, snapping against her jacket.
Behind her, Sarah lets out a strangled yelp, her grip tightening.

The truck barrels forward on the main trail, the driver catching their movement in his periphery.

“Damn,” Erica hisses.
They saw her.

The truck speeds up, racing ahead to the next opening, trying to beat her there.

Lea charges ahead, her hooves pounding over exposed roots, her breath hot and fast.

The terrain is brutal.
The ground dips without warning, and for a heart-stopping moment, Erica feels Lea stumble.
But the mare recovers, surging forward, her body coiled with adrenaline.

Up ahead - a fallen tree.
No time to stop.


~~~


Erica’s instincts take over.
Leaning forward, gripping the saddle horn tight, she whispers, “Come on, girl. You can do this.”
She knows what Lea can do and she trusts the mare’s instincts.

Lea gathers herself - muscles coiling - then leaps.

For a second, they’re flying.

Sarah screams, her arms nearly crushing Erica’s ribs.

Then - impact. Hooves slam down, the mare stumbling for a second before catching her stride again.

Behind them the engine roars.
The truck emerges from the trees just in time to see them vanish down the slope.
The men shout. The driver yanks the wheel, slamming on the brakes, the tires kicking up dirt.
They can’t follow.
Not here.

Erica exhales, feeling the burn in her lungs, the sweat slick on her brow.
But they’re not safe yet.

The estate boundary is still ahead, and there’s no way they’re giving up that easily.
She doesn’t slow.
Doesn’t look back.

Only one thought pulses in her mind, in rhythm with Lea’s pounding hooves.
Get out.
Get Sarah home.


~~~


The fence looms ahead, the whitened wooden posts stretching toward the horizon like a final barrier between Sarah and safety.
Ironwood Pastures are on the other side of the fence.

Erica pulls Lea to a skidding halt, the mare’s flanks heaving, nostrils flared. Sarah barely clings to her, weak from her ordeal, but Erica reaches back, steadying her as she slides off.

Sarah stumbles as her feet hit the ground, her breath ragged. Erica leans low in the saddle, gripping her shoulder tight.
“Run home,” she orders, her voice edged with urgency, as she hands over her phone. “Get to your mom. Call the State Police. Tell them everything - tell them to send people to Stone Ridge. You’ve got to save my skin now!”

Sarah’s wide, terrified eyes lock onto Erica’s, her body frozen for a fraction of a second, but then she reaches for the phone, clinging to it like a lifeline.

“I’ll keep Gibbons’ goons occupied until the police gets here,” Erica adds, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Sarah nods, shivering despite the growing morning warmth.
Then, gathering the last reserves of her strength, she scrambles over the fence, lands hard on the other side, and limps off, her feet kicking up dust as she heads toward freedom.

Erica watches just long enough to see her disappear over a small rise.

Good. One life saved. Hopefully.

Now, it’s just her and Lea.

Wow! Can Sarah summon the police in time? What happens to Erica IF she fails?

Dear @LunaDog, stay tuned, we will see tonight how Erica's ride continues. As per now she's fenced in at Stone Ridge and there's only one way for her to go.

She rubs the mare’s strong, sweat-dampened neck. Lea’s ears twitch back, sensing her rider’s determination.
“Now you need to save me, girl,” Erica murmurs, feeling the powerful muscles beneath her shift as Lea paws the ground. “I know you can.”

Then she wheels the mare around - and her stomach drops.
Two more trucks have joined the hunt.

Their dark shapes tear across the trails, dust plumes rising behind them. The lead truck swings wide, angling to cut her off, while the second barrels straight toward her like a charging bull. The third lingers behind, blocking the way back to the estate.

She’s surrounded.
Erica grits her teeth.
No way in hell.

They’re closing in.

Erica grips the reins, her breath coming sharp and fast.
Fear coils in her gut - but beneath it, there’s something hotter. Defiance.

She presses her heels into Lea’s flanks.
“Let’s go,” she yells, her throat dry.

The mare explodes forward, hooves tearing into the dry earth as they launch into the open pasture. Wind whips past Erica’s face, her pulse hammering in sync with the thunder of hooves. She tucks low, her hands firm on the reins, urging Lea faster, faster…

A gunshot cracks through the morning air.
Erica doesn’t flinch, but Lea snorts in alarm, her stride faltering for half a second before recovering.

“Easy, girl,” Erica soothes, keeping her balanced, but inside, rage flares.
Really?
They’re shooting at us now?

The trucks are gaining. The one on her left is bouncing violently over the uneven terrain, its tires spitting dirt. It’s not built for this kind of chase, and Erica knows it.

Lea is.

She steers the mare toward a slope where the ground turns rough - pocked with rocks, divots, and patches of thick brush. The trucks will struggle there, forced to slow or risk flipping.

But Lea?
She is in her element.


~~~


Erica glances over her shoulder. The first truck fishtails, struggling for traction. The second tries to keep up but jostles hard over a hidden rut, bouncing so violently that the driver nearly loses control.

Good. That should buy them a few seconds.

Another gunshot. This time, a bullet kicks up dirt barely a yard away.

Erica ducks lower, swearing under her breath. If they get a clear shot…
She needs an idea. Now.

Ahead, the land flattens again. A narrow creek cuts through the pasture, its shallow water reflecting the early morning light. On the other side, there’s a dense tree line - the kind of cover she desperately needs.

It’s a gamble. If Lea stumbles, if the trucks manage to cross fast enough…

No time to second-guess.

“Come on, girl,” Erica breathes. “One more push.”

She shifts her weight forward, urging Lea toward the creek. The trucks roar behind them, one finally breaking free from the rough patch and closing in.

Twenty yards to the water.

Ten.

The truck surges forward, nearly parallel now. A window rolls down. A man leans out, arm extended, as if the goon is trying to get a hold of Erica.

Too late.

Lea coils her muscles and launches into the air. For a heart-stopping second, they are weightless, breathless.
Then impact.
Hooves slam into the earth, dirt explodes around them, but Lea doesn’t falter. She surges forward, unshaken, throwing her head up in triumph.

The truck slams to a stop. No way to cross the creek at break-neck speed.

Erica doesn’t slow. She drives Lea toward the trees, the cool shade swallowing them whole as the chase behind them screeches to a frustrated halt.

She doesn’t stop until the trucks’ engines fade into silence.
Only then does she let out a long, shaking breath.

They made it.

For now.

She rubs her hand over Lea’s muscular neck, feels the heat from her body and the sting of the morning breeze in her eyes.

The trees give them cover, but not for long.

Erica urges Lea forward, weaving through the undergrowth, heart pounding in her chest.

The trucks might be out of sight now, but she knows they will not be giving up.
They’ll be circling, searching for another way to cut her off.

She can’t keep running blind.

She needs a plan.


~~~

And soon?