Tess opened her mouth, closed it again. What point was there in speculating that Adam could have gone out before dawn, done what had been done, then led them to it, taken them to see what he’d wanted them to see?
“I don’t know, Lily. I just don’t know. But if we’re going to stay here, get through this winter, we’d better start thinking, and we’d better start watching our backs.” She pulled off her hat, her coat. “I can’t imagine Adam doing that. Or Ben, or Nate. Hell, I can’t imagine anyone doing it, and that’s the problem. We have to start imagining it.”
“We’re safe here.” Lily turned her back, carefully hung her coat. “We’re safe. I haven’t felt safe in a long time, and I’m not going to let anything spoil it.”
“Lily.” Tess laid a hand on her shoulder. “Staying safe means staying careful. And staying smart. We both want something here,” she continued as Lily turned back. “And we want it badly enough to risk being here. The way I see it, we have to look out for each other. And we have to trust each other. If I see anything odd, I’m going to tell you, and you’re going to do the same. Anything that doesn’t feel right, anyone who doesn’t act right. Agreed?”
“Yes, I’ll tell you. And Willa.” She shook her head before Tess could protest. “She deserves that, Tess. She has every bit as much at stake. She has more at stake.”
Exactly, Tess thought, then shrugged. “Okay, we’ll play it that way. For now, anyway. Now I want that coffee.”
• • •
T HEY HAD COFFEE. AND WAITED. THEY ATE STEW. AND waited.
The wind screamed at the windows, the fire snapped in the grate, and the grandfather clock in the study bonged the hours away.
It was past midnight when Willa came in, and she came in alone.
Tess stopped pacing the living room and studied her. Willa’s face was sheet-white with exhaustion, those dark, exotic eyes bruised with it. She walked directly to the fire, trailing snow and wet behind her over the exquisite rugs and gleaming floors.
“Where are the others?” Tess asked her.
“They had to get back. They’ve got their own worries.”
With a nod, Tess went to the whiskey decanter and poured a generous glass. She’d have preferred having Nate and Ben in the house, but she was learning that Montana was filled with little disappointments. She handed the glass to Willa.
“Cows all tucked in for the night?”
Without bothering to answer, Will tossed back half the whiskey, shuddered hard.
“I’ll run you a bath.”
With her mind too weary to focus, Willa blinked at Lily. “What?”
“I’m going to run you a hot bath. You’re frozen and exhausted. You must be starving. There’s stew on the stove. Tess, you fix Willa a bowl.”
Willa had just enough energy left to be amused. Her baffled smile followed Lily out of the room. “She’s going to run me a bath. Can you beat that?”
“Our resident domestic expert. Anyway, you could use one. You smell.”
Willa sniffed, winced. “Guess I do.” Because the first blast of whiskey had her head reeling, she set the glass aside. “I’m too tired to eat.”
“You need something. You can eat in the tub.”
“In the tub. Eat in the tub?”
“Why the hell not?”
Willa spared Tess one smirking glance. “Why the hell not?” she agreed, and stumbled her way upstairs to strip.
Lily had the water steaming and frothy with bubbles. Naked, Willa stared down at it for a full ten seconds. A bubble bath, she thought. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a bubble bath. The big scarlet tub had been one of her father’s indulgences, and she’d rarely used it. And then only when he’d been away.
He was away now, she reminded herself. Dead away.
She swung a leg over the side, hissed as hot water met chilled skin. Then with an enormous sigh, she lowered herself to the chin.
She emptied her mind of snow, of wind, of the raging dark, the brutal fight to round up cattle. They would have missed some, and they would lose some. That was inevitable. The blizzard had come in too fast and too mean to prevent that. But they had done their best.
Her muscles wept as she laid her head back, closed her eyes. Can’t think, she realized as her mind clicked on and off. Had to think. What to do. Every movement, every chore, every decision made come morning would be instinctive. She knew what to do there. It wasn’t her first blizzard, nor would it be her last.
But murder—murder and butchery.
What to do.
“Fall asleep in there and you’ll drown,” Tess said from the doorway.
Willa sat up, scowling. She wasn’t particularly modest. The scowl was for the intrusion, even if it did include the heavenly scent of stew. “You ever try knocking?”
“You left the door open, champ.” Rather amused at her role of server, Tess settled the tray across the tub. “I want to talk to you.”
Willa only sighed. She scooted up enough to manage the meal, dipped a spoon into the stew while bubbles melted off her breasts. “So talk.”
Tess sat on the wide ledge of the tub. Quite a bathroom, she mused. It was as plush as any movie star’s fantasy with its ruby, sapphire, and white tiles, its forest of ferns in brass and copper pots. The separate shower was walled in clear glass, boasted half a dozen showerheads at different angles and heights. And the tub where Willa was lounging was easily big enough for a small, tasteful orgy.
Idly she dipped a finger into the bubbles, sniffed at them. “Violets,” she commented. “Must be Lily’s.”
“You want to talk about bubble baths?” Willa scooted up higher as she gained more enthusiasm for the meal. She could have eaten a truckload of stew.
“We’ll leave the girl stuff for later.” She glanced over as Lily came to the doorway, her gaze politely fixed inches above Willa’s head. “I’ve got your robe, for when you’re finished. I’ll just hang it on the back of the door.”
“Come on in, have a seat,” Willa invited with a wave of her hand. “Tess wants to talk.” When Lily hesitated, Willa rolled her eyes. “We’ve all got tits here, Lily.”
“And hers are barely noticeable, anyway,” Tess added with a smug smile. “Have a seat,” she ordered. “You’re the one who wanted to bring her in on all of this.”
“All of what?” Willa demanded with her mouth full.
“Let’s just say Lily and I are a little nervous. Wouldn’t you agree with that, Lily?”
Flushing, Lily lowered the lid on the toilet and sat. “Yes.”
Despite the heat of the water, Willa’s skin chilled. “You two planning to bolt?”
“We’re not cowards.” Tess inclined her head. “Or fools. The three of us have equal interest in getting through this year. I assume we all have equal interest in getting through it in one piece. Somebody, very possibly somebody on this ranch, is—let’s say knife happy. How do we deal with it?”
Willa’s mouth went stubborn. “I know my men.”
“We don’t,” Tess pointed out. “Maybe we should start by you filling us in. Telling us what you know about each one of them. As appealing as it sounds, the three of us can’t travel in a pack twenty-four hours a day for the next nine or ten months.”
“You’re right.”
The careless agreement caused Tess’s mouth to drop open. “Well, well, I must mark this day on my calendar. Willa Mercy agrees with me.”
“I still can’t stand you.” Scraping her bowl, Willa continued. “But I do agree. The three of us need to cooperate if we’re going to get through this. Until the police, or we, find out who killed Pickles, I don’t think either of you should wander around alone.”
“I can defend myself. I’ve taken classes.”
Tess’s announcement made Willa snort.
“I could take you down,” Tess tossed out. “In ten seconds I’d have you on your back seeing stars. But that’s beside the point.” She had a low-grade urge for a cigarette, and promised h
erself she’d indulge it soon. “Lily and I can’t very well attach ourselves to each other at the hip.”
“I’m with Adam most of the day. With the horses.”
Willa nodded at Lily and slid back into the water. “You can depend on Adam. And Bess. And Ham.”
“Why Ham?” Tess wanted to know.
“He raised me,” Willa said shortly. “The weather’s going to keep the two of you close to the house for the next little while anyway.”
“What about you?” Lily asked.
“I’ll worry about me.” Willa submerged, holding her breath under the water, then came up feeling nearly human again. “I haven’t had the benefit of Hollywood’s self-defense courses, but I know the men, I know the land. If either one of you is nervous, you can saddle up and go to work with me. Now, unless one of you wants to scrub my back, I’d like some privacy.”
Tess rose, and as an afterthought reached down for the tray. “Being cocky isn’t much protection against a knife.”
“A Winchester is.” And satisfied with that, Willa reached for the soap.
S HE SLEPT POORLY. EXHAUSTION. AS POWERFUL AS IT WAS. couldn’t beat back the nightmares. Willa tossed and turned, fighting for sleep as images of blood and gore raced through her head.
When that thin winter light crept through the wall of steadily falling snow, she shivered and wished there was something, someone, to hold on to. For just a little while.
S OMEONE ELSE WOKE IN THAT SAME STINGY LIGHT WITH those same images running like a river through his head.
But they made him smile.
TWELVE
F ROM TESS’S JOURNAL:
I’m beginning to like snow. Or I’m going slowly insane. Each morning when I look out my bedroom window, there it is, white and shiny. Miles of it. I can’t say I care for the cold. Or the fucking wind. But the snow, particularly when I’m inside looking out, has a certain appeal. Or maybe I’m beginning to feel safe again.
It’s a week before Christmas, and nothing has happened to interrupt the routine. No murdered men, no slaughtered wildlife. Just the eerie quiet of snow-smothered days. Maybe the cops were right after all, and whoever killed that poor bald guy was a psychotic hiker. We can only hope.
Lily is big into the holiday spirit. Funny, sweet woman. She’s like a child about it, hustling bags into her bedroom, wrapping presents, baking cookies with Bess. Great cookies, which means I’ve been adding an extra fifteen minutes to my morning workouts.
We took a trip into Billings, for what it’s worth, to do some Christmas shopping. Lily was easy enough. I found a pretty brooch of a rearing horse, very delicate and feminine. Figured I had to come up with something for sour-face Bess, and settled on a cookbook. Lily approved it, so I suppose I’m safe. The cowgirl’s another matter. I still haven’t pinned her down.
Is this woman fearless or stupid?
She goes out every day, more often than not alone. She works her ass off, swaggers down to the old bunkhouse every evening to talk to her men. When she’s in the house, she’s often buried up to her eyeballs with ledgers and cow reports.
I’m afraid I’m starting to admire her, and I’m not sure I like it. I got her a cashmere sweater, I don’t know why. She never wears anything but flannel. But it’s screaming siren red, very soft and female. She’ll probably end up tossing it on over her long underwear and castrating cows in it. Hell with it.
For Adam, because he appeals to me on a surprisingly fraternal level, I found a lovely little watercolor of the mountains. It reminded me of him.
After much debate with myself, I decided to spring for a token gift for both Ben and Nate, since they spend so much time around here. I picked up a video of Red River for Ben, kind of a gag that I hope will be taken in the proper spirit.
And after some subtle probing, I learned that Nate has a weakness for poetry. He’s getting a volume of Keats. We’ll see.
Between the shopping, the smells from the kitchen, and the decorating, I’m getting in the holiday mood myself. Just shipped off a ton of presents for Mom. With her, it’s not the quality but the quantity, and I know she’ll be happily ripping off shiny paper for hours.
The damnedest thing, I miss her.
Despite all the Santa Clausing, I’m antsy. Too many hours indoors, I think. I’m using this extra time—winter is chock-full of time around here since it’s dark before five in the evening—to play with an idea for a book. Just for fun, just to pass the time during these incredibly long nights.
And speaking of long nights . . . Since all seems quiet again, I’m taking one of the jeeps—I mean rigs—and driving over to Nate’s to deliver my gift. Ham gave me directions to Nate’s—what would I call it—spread, I suppose. I’ve been waiting weeks for an invitation to his house, and for him to make a move. I guess it’s up to me to start the ball rolling.
I can’t decide how subtle I should be about getting him into bed, and so will play it by ear. At the rate he’s going, it could be spring before I get laid.
The hell with that, too.
“G OING SOMEWHERE?” WILLA DEMANDED AS TESS GLIDED downstairs.
“As a matter of fact.” She tilted her head, took in Willa’s usual uniform of flannel and denim. “You?”
“I just got in. Some of us don’t have time to primp in front of a mirror for an hour.” Willa’s brow furrowed. “You’re wearing a dress.”
“Am I?” Feigning surprise, Tess looked down at the simple, form-fitting blue wool that skimmed above her knees. “Well, how did that happen?” With a snicker, she came down the rest of the way and walked to the closet for her coat. “I have a Christmas present to deliver. You remember Christmas, don’t you? Even with your busy schedule you must have heard of it.”
“There was a rumor.” Sexy dress, heels, fuck-me perfume, Willa mused, and narrowed her eyes. “Who’s the present for?”
“I’m dropping in on Nate.” Tess swirled on her coat. “I hope he has some wassail handy.”
“Should have figured it,” Willa muttered. “You’re going to break your neck getting to the rig in those ice picks.”
“I’ve got excellent balance.” With a careless wave, Tess glided out. “Don’t wait up. Sis.”
“Yeah. Good balance,” Willa repeated, watching as Tess made her way gracefully to the rig. “I hope Nate’s got good balance.”
She turned away, walked into the living room, and stretched out on the sofa. After one long look at the tall, elaborately decorated tree framed in the front window, she buried her face in the leather.
Christmas had always been a miserable time of year for her. Her mother had died in December. Not that she remembered, but she knew it, and it had always put a cloud over the holidays. Bess had tried, God knew, to make up for it with decorations and cookies, with silly presents and carols. But there had never been family gathered around the piano, or family huddled under the tree opening gifts on Christmas morning.
She and Adam had exchanged theirs on Christmas Eve, always. After her father was rip-roaring drunk and snoring in his bed.
There had been presents under the tree with her name on them. Bess had seen to that, and for years had put Jack’s name on them. But when Willa had turned sixteen, she’d stopped opening those. They were a lie after all, and after a couple of further attempts, Bess had given up the pretense.
Christmas morning had meant hangovers and bad temper, and on the one occasion she’d been brave enough to complain, a stinging backhand.
She’d stopped looking forward to the holidays a long time ago.
And now she was tired, so damn tired. The winter had come so soon, and so brutally. They’d lost more cows than she’d expected, and Wood was worried they hadn’t gotten the winter wheat in soon enough. The market price per head had dipped—not enough for panic, but enough for worry.
And she found herself waiting, every day waiting, to find something, or someone, slaughtered on her doorstep again.
No one to talk to, she thought. So she kept her
worries to herself. She didn’t want Lily and Tess terrified every minute of the day, but neither could she relax and ignore it. She made certain that either she or Adam or Ham kept an eye on both of them