Snaggle Tooth: A Patrick Flint Novel

When a plane crashes at the base of Black Tooth Mountain during a wicked summer storm, Patrick Flint’s moral compass leads him away from a trail ride with his family and to the wreckage in a search for survivors. But what he finds may teach him that not everything is what it seems, and not every life is worth saving.

“Best book I’ve read in a long time!”

"A few hundred feet ahead, he saw a dark splotch on the asphalt. At first, he thought it was a shadow, but as he drew closer, he could tell it was three dimensional. An animal? He couldn’t choose a course around it until he knew whether it would move, and in what direction. The propeller on the Tri-Pacer’s nose was lethal, of course, but impact with a critter could result in a dangerous broken windshield, or, worse, flip the small aircraft. He stepped on the brakes as hard as he dared, not wanting to send the plane cartwheeling from its own momentum. The Tri-Pacer shuddered and shimmied, and he fought to maintain control. Dear God, don’t let me wreck this thing. It’s not even paid for yet, and I’ve got precious cargo.

Trish had been sleeping, thankfully, but she woke up with a start, her voice panicked. “What’s going on?”

“Hold on,” Patrick said through gritted teeth.

Ahead, the figure loomed closer. It was low to the ground and completely stationary. Had another plane already hit it? A dead bison? Or moose? A small bear, perhaps? What had seemed dark from hundreds of feet away now revealed itself as blue, red, and black. The blue perplexed him. It wasn’t the color of an animal, except for maybe a blue roan horse. Maybe the blue was a tarp or bag? He gauged the distance on either side. There was no room to pass without veering one wheel off the pavement. Too dangerous at this speed. He considered opening the throttle, pulling back on the stick, and hopping over it, but decided not to risk it. He was out of room. There was no longer any reason to focus on whether it was moving. He had to double down on stopping.

Thank God he was piloting a Tri-Pacer. The little plane was the next best thing to a helicopter when it came to short strips. And this strip had suddenly become very, very short. With only feet to spare, the Tri-Pacer jerked to a standstill, nose tilted down. Patrick wiped sweat from his brow and exhaled. He had been so focused on stopping that he had almost forgotten about the figure that had made it necessary. Now he couldn’t see it.

“Dad . . .” Trish’s voice was taut.

Patrick glanced over at her. Her eyes were huge. “What is it? Are you okay?”

“You saw that, right? You saw the man in the runway?”

“The man?”

She nodded. “He looked . . . dead.”

A dead man—on a runway? It was hard to believe. Maybe she thought she saw a man, but it was probably a deer. But he had to check it out. “Stay in the plane.”

Patrick turned off the switch, advanced the throttle to full forward, then closed it. He opened the lightweight door, not waiting for the propeller to stop spinning, something he would not normally ever have done. He climbed out and jumped to the ground, peering through the distortion caused by the blades. He still couldn’t identify the figure. Giving the propeller a wide berth, he ran around his aircraft until he could see the figure in front of it.

And, to his surprise, he saw that Trish was right. It was a man, with an emphasis on “was.” An American Indian. And what was left of him wasn’t a pretty sight."

If you like C.J. Box or Craig Johnson, you will love USA Today Best Seller Pamela Fagan Hutchins' Patrick Flint series. A former attorney, Pamela runs an off-the-grid lodge on the face of Wyoming's Bighorn Mountains, living out the adventures in her books with her husband, rescue dogs and cats, and enormous horses.