Page 108 of Mountain Man’s Mystic Touch

He pulls me from the seat to the floor of the truck and covers me with his body.

A sharp report splits the night.

Glass shatters.

For one suspended moment, I am no longer beneath Grant inside the truck. I am inside the vision, surrounded by screaming and smoke. A flash of red fills my mind. Cinnamon burns in the back of my throat.

Then the present returns.

There is no crowd.

No child.

Only the echo of a gunshot and glass falling somewhere beyond the vehicle.

“Stay down,” Grant orders.

I hear Rocco shout, but the words are lost beneath another shot. Metal rings as the bullet strikes something near the vendor row. Deputies call commands from two directions.

Mercer runs.

I raise my head enough to see through the lower edge of the window. He crosses the path behind the cider station, no longer heading for the service gate. Rocco follows from the opposite row, using the booths for cover.

Mercer knows the property. He knows where every path leads.

But so does Rocco.

The cinnamon vendor’s canopy blocks my view. I hear another command, then the crash of a table overturning. The red banner inside the lodge swings above a broken section of glass, stirred by the cold air pouring through it.

The vision happened.

Only not the way I saw it.

The future did change.

Mercer appears again near the north path. Blood darkens one sleeve, although I don’t know whether he was shot or cut by glass. The gun remains in his hand.

Rocco steps from behind a booth several yards away.

Mercer lifts the weapon.

Fear tears through me so violently that I stop breathing.

Rocco does not reach for his own gun. Instead, he moves behind the thick wooden support at the corner of the vendor pavilion.

“Drop it,” Carver shouts.

Mercer turns toward the deputy.

That moment of divided attention is all Rocco needs.

He crosses the distance between them with terrifying speed. His shoulder drives into Mercer’s chest before the gun can swing back. Both men hit the ground hard.

The weapon skids across the path.

Morales reaches it first and kicks it away. Carver closes in as Mercer twists beneath Rocco, striking wildly with his uninjured arm. Rocco catches the wrist, forces it behind his back, and pins him facedown against the gravel.

Mercer continues fighting until the handcuff closes around one wrist.