GOLD RIVER (Book 1)

Chapter 2

The Chevy Silverado spun around and found the dirt road that brought Tom to the far side of his property. Dust blurred in the rearview mirror as he aimed the truck on a direct path back to the ranch house. The faster he went, rusty red particles fell on the silver hood, his left hand on the steering wheel, guiding the vehicle over bumps and washed-out crevices where heavy rainfall pounded the road and surrounding pasture in springs past. His right hand continued to swell and throbbed with each passing second, and saliva glands in his mouth worked overtime, making him swallow continually.

In the seat next to him, he reached over, palmed his cell phone with the snake bit hand and laid the thin device on his lap. His shaking forefinger hit the speed dial. He pressed the phone to his ear.

"Hel—hello? Just listen, Ava. A rattler got me."

She started to speak, but he cut her off.

"Meet me at the house."

"Your—"

"Yes, my house."

"You should've dialed 911. You need to go to the emergency room." Her voice cracked in his ear, barely audible above the thundering of the V-8 engine and the jolts of the big truck navigating the rugged terrain. "Where are you?"

"West side of the ranch, near the dried-up creek bed."

"You need to go to the hospital."

"I'm aware of that, but I need the anti-venom administered fast. I'm closer to home."

"Tom Logan, you know better than to—"

"You can beat me there. I'm ten minutes out. Just bring your bag... and the anti-venom."

"I'll be waiting... and I'll call an ambulance, too."

"You do that."

"Hurry, Tom."

Click.

"Rattlesnakes." He slung the phone in the passenger seat, gritting his teeth, biting back the pain pulsating from the two puncture holes between his thumb and forefinger.

He had to remain as calm as possible. A rapid heartbeat could pump the poison throughout his body much quicker. He knew this was an insane thought, but it was the truth.

Slow, deep breaths. Let the air out.

Not good enough. He couldn't quite satisfy his lungs.

Sweat ran down his face. Minutes that passed seemed like hours.

The bend in the road curved around a big, lonely oak... a mile from the house. He shook his head and jerked the wheel to the left, whipping around the tree. Tom's boot punched the accelerator, throwing his neck back. At the moment, he was rethinking the new metal detector idea.

Why can't a guy look for a little gold?

The truck ramped over the next rise, airborne for two seconds, and then the tire treads dug into the dirt road, skidding sideways before regaining traction.

Ahead was the house—white wood siding and a porch across the front—and Ava's maroon Honda CRV, the back hatch up, her arm reaching into the trunk area for her medical bag. Thank God.

Tom gunned the Chevy past a stretch of fence, and his horse, and braked to a dust flying halt ten feet from Ava, her hazel eyes wide open with fright, fire red hair in a braid laying over the front of her shirt. She rushed to the driver's side of the truck and caught Tom as he leaned into the door and fell out.

Sheriff, Tom's old bloodhound, let loose on a fit of hybrid barks—a series of howls mixed with whines and whimpers.

Ava led Tom to a spot near the rear wheel and lowered him to the ground, back against the tire. Immediately, she sifted through her bag and removed the vial of anti-venom, filled a syringe, thumped it, and started searching for a vein in his left arm. Finding what she was looking for, she stuck him and plunged the serum into his bloodstream.

Tom glanced at his watch. "Fourteen minutes from bite to antidote. I could've died on the way to the ER, or at least suffered a lot more damage to my nervous system."

"What were you doing out there, Tom? You're gonna get yourself killed one day."

"By a rattlesnake? Nah. I've been bit by worse."

"Like what?"

"Well, that was a lie, but... hey, my phone's ringing."

"I think you can call them back."

"No, it's in the front seat. Get it. It might be about my boat storage in the Keys."

Ava frowned.

"Just get it."

She climbed into the cab and stretched across the front seat, found the cell phone, and handed it to Tom. He didn't recognize the number but answered it anyway.

Blood flushed his cheeks and his jaw dropped when he heard the person on the other end of the line.

"Eddie?" he said, grimacing, not from the snake bite anymore, but from the sound of the man's rapid-fire voice on the phone.

"Listen Tom, I know we haven't spoken in years, but I need you to catch the next plane to Ecuador. My life depends on it."