Montana Sky

  to sunny Mexico.” In celebration, he blew smoke rings. “Can’t be soon enough for me.” He bit off a piece of jerky, chewed thoughtfully. “Montana sucks.”

  He stretched out his legs, rested his back on the wall of the cave while she let herself drowse in the stingy warmth of the blanket. “I’m going to make me a pile of money down there. I wouldn’t have had to worry about that if you’d behaved yourself. Your share of Mercy, that was big bucks for me, Lily, and you had to fuck it up by thinking you could go off and get married. We’re going to talk about that later. A lot.”

  He took the bottle back and drank deeply again. “But a smart man like me, one who’s got luck at cards, he can do just fine down there with those greasers.”

  She needed to sleep, had to sleep to pull her strength back until Adam found her. Until she could get away. She curled against the side wall, as far away as the tether would allow, and wrapped the blanket tight around her.

  He would drink now. She knew the pattern. He would drink until he was drunk, and then she’d have a better chance of getting away from him.

  But she had to sleep. It was closing in on her like a fog and the chills were racking her so hard she thought her bones would crack. She listened to the whiskey slosh in the bottle as he lifted it, felt herself drift.

  “Why did you kill those people, Jesse? Why did you do all those things?”

  The bottle clinked, sloshed. He chuckled a little, as if at a small private joke. “A man does what he’s got to.”

  It was the last thing she heard him say.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  O N A COLD, WINDY RIDGE, ADAM STOOD, STARING INTO the dark, trying to see into it as he might a mirror. The only relief from that dark was the strong beam of the flashlight in his hand and the beams behind him.

  “He’s veered off from the cabin.” Ben studied the sky, measured the hours until dawn. He wanted the sun, damn it. The morning might bring signs other than the scent the dogs were pursuing. Morning would bring the planes, and his own brother would be up, scanning every tree and rock.

  “He’s got someplace else he’s taking her.” Adam kept his face to the wind, as if it might tell him something. Anything. “He knows someplace else. He’d have to be past crazy to take the mountain on foot at night without a shelter.”

  The man who had ripped two people to pieces was past crazy, Ben thought grimly. But it wasn’t what Adam needed to hear. “He’s gone to ground somewhere. We’ll find him.”

  “Snow’s let up some. Storm’s moved east. She wasn’t dressed for a night in the cold.” Adam stared straight ahead, had to stare into the dark and make himself breathe no matter how his insides shook. “She gets cold at night. Bird bones. Lily’s got little bird bones.”

  “He can’t be that far ahead of us.” Because it was all he could do, Ben laid a hand on Adam’s shoulder, left it there. “They’re on foot. They’ll have to stop and rest.”

  “I want you to leave me alone with him. When we find them, I want you to take Lily and Will, and leave him to me.” Adam turned now, and the eyes that were always so gentle, so quiet, were hard and cold as the rock on which he stood. “You leave him to me.”

  There was civilized, Ben thought, and there was justice. “I’ll leave him to you.”

  From her post by the horses, Willa watched them. She had lived and worked and survived in a man’s world her entire life. Perhaps she understood better than most that there were times a woman couldn’t cross the line. Whatever they spoke of wasn’t for her, and she accepted that. What was between them on that ridge wasn’t just between men, but between brothers.

  Her sister’s fate was in their hands. And hers.

  When they started back toward her, she took Lily’s blouse and gave both dogs the scent fresh. Shuddering with excitement, they whined and headed due south.

  “Sky’s clearing,” she said, as they mounted and Adam rode ahead. She could see stars, just a sprinkle of them glinting through. “If the clouds move off we’ll have a half-moon and some light.”

  “It’ll help.” Ben gave her a quick study. She rode straight as an arrow with no sign of flagging. But he couldn’t see her eyes, not clearly enough. “You holding up?”

  “Sure. Ben . . .”

  He slowed a bit, thinking she might be close to breaking, need him to comfort. “You need a minute, we can hang back.”

  “No, no. Damn it, it’s been working at my mind for hours. There was something familiar about the bastard. Something . . . like I’d seen him somewhere before. But it was dark, and there was blood all over his face where Lily must have scratched him.” She pushed her hat back, suddenly irritated by the weight of it. “I dumped Billy on Bess so fast. I didn’t take time to ask him any questions. I should have. Maybe we’d have a better idea of his moves.”

  “You had other things on your mind.”

  “Yeah.” But it nagged at her, that memory that circled, then dipped just out of reach. “Doesn’t matter now.” She settled her hat back on her head, nudged Moon into a quick-trot. “Finding Lily’s what matters.” Finding her alive, she thought, but couldn’t say it.

  T HE CAVE WAS DARK. SHE WAS BURNING UP. THEN freezing, then burning again, tossed in fever and dreams and terrors. Her hands were cold, sore to numbness at the wrists where the rope abraded her skin. She curled tight into herself, dreamed of curling tight into Adam, having his arm drape over her as it did during the night to pull her close. And warm. And safe.

  She whimpered a little as the rocks scattered across the floor of the cave bit into her shoulder, her back, her hip. Every time she shifted, she hurt, but it was a distant pain, a dream pain. No matter how she struggled she couldn’t quite bring herself to the surface of it.

  When the light burned over the back of her eyelids, she turned away from it. She so wanted to sleep, to drop away from everything. She murmured a little, as the fever began to brew inside her.

  Footsteps, she thought dimly. Adam’s home. He’d crawl into bed beside her now. His body would be a bit chilled but would warm quickly. If she could just turn, just wake enough to turn to him, his mouth would be soft on hers, and he would make love to her, slow and sweet, as he often did when he came in late from his shift.

  They wouldn’t even have to speak, just sigh perhaps. They wouldn’t need words, just touch and taste and that steady rhythm of bodies finding each other. Then sleep again . . .

  As she started to drift again, she thought she heard a scream, cut quickly off. Like a mouse caught in a trap. Adam would take it away before she saw it. He understood things like that.

  Sinking into unconsciousness, she never felt the knife slip between her wrists to cut the rope, or the heavy warmth of Jesse’s coat spread over her. But she said Adam’s name as the man who stood over her, blood dripping from his hands, sheathed his knife.

  It had been quick work, and he regretted that. He hadn’t had time for finesse. He’d gotten lucky finding them before any of the others did. Luckier still to find the bastard drunk and stupid. He’d died easier than he deserved. Like a pig slaughtered with only one surprised squeal.

  But he’d taken the hair nonetheless. It was traditional now, and he’d even thought to bring a plastic bag to hold it. In case he got lucky.

  He’d have to leave the woman as she was, for others to find. Or circle around, stumble across the cave a second time when there was someone with him, to make it seem all nice and proper.

  He scanned the light around the cave again, then smiled when it shone on a small stack of twigs. Well, he could take time for that, couldn’t he? A little fire close to the opening, smoke to bring one of the search parties along quicker.

  What a picture they’d find, he thought, chuckling. He simply couldn’t help but laugh as he built the fire quickly, set it to flame. Couldn’t help but laugh as the flames danced over the body slumped against the wall of the cave and the blood pooling like a red river.

  When he rode off, he rode east, zigzagging through the trees and pic
king his way down and up rock until he caught the flash of another searcher’s light. All he had to do then was turn his mount and melt in among the men who fanned out over the hills, looking to be heroes.

  He was the only one who knew a hero’s work was already done.

  “S MOKE.” WILLA WAS THE FIRST TO CATCH THE SCENT. HER saddle creaked as she rose in it, concentrated. “There’s smoke.” And with it the first true tug of hope pulled at her heart. “Adam?”

  “Up ahead. I can’t see it, but it’s there.”

  “He built a fire,” Ben murmured. “Stupid bastard.”

  Though they hadn’t discussed it, they moved into a trot and now rode three abreast. And the first thin light broke in the east.

  “I know this place. Adam, we did some rock climbing in the ravine near here.” Ben’s jaw tightened. “Caves, lots of little caves. Decent shelter.”

  “I remember.” Only the memory of the gun against Lily’s temple kept Adam from breaking into a gallop. His eyes had grown accustomed to the dark, and they narrowed now against the gently growing dawn. And they were sharp. “There!” He pointed ahead at the thin gray column of smoke just as Charlie’s high, frantic barking echoed.

  “Found them.” Before Willa could speak, Ben blocked her mount with his. “Stay here.”

  “The hell I will.”

  “Do what you’re told for once, goddamn it.”

  He knew that bark. It wasn’t the excitement of a find, it was the signal for a kill. He could already tell from the set of her chin that she wasn’t going to obey any order. But she might listen to a plan.

  “He’s armed,” Ben reminded her. “Maybe we can flush him. If we do, we need you back here, with your rifle. You’re a better shot than Adam. Damn near as good as me. Odds are he’s not expecting we brought a woman, so he’ll be focused on us.”

  Because it made sense, she nodded. “All right. We try it that way first.” She looked over at Adam as she pulled out her gun. “I’ll cover you.”

  He dismounted, met Ben’s eyes. “Remember” was all he said.

  They parted there, one to the left, one to the right to flank the opening of the cave where the small fire was down to fading smoke. Willa steadied Moon with her knees and waited, watched them. They moved in sync, men who had hunted together since childhood and knew each other’s thoughts. A hand signal, a nod, and the pace changed, quick, but not rushed.

  Her heart began to knock against her ribs as they neared the cave. Her breath caught in her lungs, clogged there as she braced for the shattering sound of gunfire, of screams, or of the horrific sight of blood splattering over snow.

  She prayed, the words repeating over and over in her head in English, in her mother’s tongue, then in a desperate mixture of both as she pleaded with any god who would listen to help.

  Then she drew a breath, forced it out. Steadying herself, she lifted her rifle and drew a bead on the mouth of the cave.

  It was Lily who stumbled out into the crosshairs.

  “My God.” She forgot her duty, her post, and kicked Moon forward in a gallop. Lily was already in Adam’s arms, being rocked in the trampled snow, when Willa slid off her horse. “Is she hurt? Is she all right?”

  “She’s burning up. Fever.” Desperate, Adam pressed his face to hers as if to cool it. Even thoughts of vengeance vanished as she shuddered against him. “We’ve got to get her back quickly.”

  “Inside,” Lily managed, and burrowed into Adam. “Inside. Jesse. Oh, God.”

  “Inside?” Willa’s head whipped up, and all the fear came roaring back. “Ben?” She said his name the first time, then shouted it as she ran toward the cave.

  He was quick, but not quite quick enough to stop her from getting in, from seeing what was spread out on the floor of the cave.

  “Get out.” He blocked her view with his body, took her hard by the shoulders. “Go out now.”

  “But how?” Blood, a sea of it. The gaping throat, the split belly, the brutal lifting of the trophy of hair. “Who?”

  “Get out.” He turned her roughly, shoved her. “Stay out.”

  She made it as far as the opening, then had to lean on the rock. Sweat had popped cold to her skin, and her stomach heaved viciously. She sucked in air, each breath a rasping sob until she was sure she wouldn’t faint or be sick.

  Her vision cleared, and she watched Adam bundling Lily into his coat. “I have a thermos of coffee in my saddlebags. It should still be warm.” Willa straightened, ordered her legs to hold her weight. “Let’s try to get some into her, then we’ll take her home.”

  Adam rose, lifting Lily into his arms. When his eyes met Willa’s, the sun flashed into them as it would on the edge of a sword. “He’s already dead, isn’t he?”

  “Yes, he’s already dead.”

  “I wanted it on my hands.”

  “Not like that you didn’t.” Willa turned and went to her horse.

  W ILLA PACED THE LIVING ROOM OF ADAM’S HOUSE. SHE was useless in a sickroom and knew it. But she felt worse than useless out of it. They’d barely been back an hour, and she’d already been dismissed. Bess and Adam were upstairs doing whatever needed to be done for Lily. Ben and Nate were dealing with the police, and her men were taking the rest of the morning to recover after the long night.

  Even Tess had been given an assignment and was in the kitchen heating up pots of coffee or tea or soup. Something hot and liquid anyway, Willa thought, as she paced past the window again.

  At least she’d had something to do before. Streaking down from the high country to alert the police, to call off Search and Rescue, to tell Bess to ready a sickbed. Now there was nothing but useless waiting.

  So when Bess came down the stairs, Willa pounced. “How is she? How bad is it? What are you doing for her?”

  “I’m doing what needs to be done.” Worry and lack of sleep made her voice sharp and testy. “Now go on home and go to bed your own self. You can see her later.”

  “She should be in a hospital,” Tess replied, as she came in with a tray, the bowl of soup she’d been ordered to heat steaming in the center.

  “I can tend her well enough here. Fever doesn’t break before long, we’ll have Zack fly her into Billings. For now she’s better off in her own bed, with her man beside her.” Bess snatched the tray away from Tess. She wanted both of these girls out of her hair, where she wouldn’t have to worry about them as well as the one upstairs in bed. “Go about your business. I know what I’m doing here.”

  “She always knows what she’s doing.” Tess scowled after Bess, who flounced back up the stairs. “For all we know Lily might have frostbite, or hypothermia.”

  “Wasn’t cold enough for either,” Willa said wearily. “And we checked for frostbite anyway. It’s exposure. She’s caught a bad chill and she’s banged up some. If Bess thinks it’s worse, she’ll be the first to send her to the hospital.”

  Tess firmed her lips and said what she’d been harboring in her heart for hours. “He might have raped her.”

  Willa turned away. It had been one more fear, a woman’s fear, that she’d lived with during the long night. “If he had, she would have told Adam.”

  “It isn’t always easy for a woman to talk about it.”

  “It is when it’s Adam.” Willa rubbed her gritty eyes, dropped her hands. “Her clothes weren’t torn, Tess, and I think there was more on his mind than rape. There’d have been signs of it. Bess would have seen them when she undressed her. She’d have said.”

  “All right.” That was one hideous little terror she could put aside. “Are you going to tell me what happened up there?”

  “I don’t know what happened up there.” She could see it, perfectly. It was imprinted on her mind like all the others. But she didn’t understand it. “When we found them Lily was delirious, and he was dead. Dead,” she repeated, and met Tess’s eyes, “like the others were. Pickles and that girl.”

  “But—” Tess had been sure that Adam had killed him. That they would put
a spin on it for the police, but that Adam had done it. “That doesn’t make any sense. If Jesse Cooke killed the others . . .”

  “I don’t have any answers.” She picked up her hat, her coat. “I need air.”

  “Willa.” Tess laid a hand on her arm. “If Jesse Cooke didn’t kill the others?”

  “I still don’t have any answers.” She shook her arm free. “Go to bed, Hollywood. You look like hell.”

  It was a weak parting shot, but she wasn’t feeling clever. It felt as though her legs were filled with water as she trudged across the road. She would have to talk to the police, she thought. She would have to bear that one more time. And she would have to think, to get her mind in order and think of what to do next.

  Too many rigs in the yard, she thought, and paused to study the official seals on the sides of the cars flanking Ben’s truck. If there had ever been a police rig on the ranch when her father had been alive, she couldn’t recall it. She didn’t care to count how many times one had been there since his death.