Tough Enough

  Parked in the pines off to the right was the band’s bus. Where was J.D.?

  A sudden chill stole up her spine as she looked over at Taylor.

  He’d picked up a quarter from the tray on the dash and was spinning it between two fingers. It shone silver, flickering in a blur of light.

  IN THE BACK OF THE BUS, J.D. strained to hear. Pete had brought the bus to a rattling halt, and the three of them had climbed out, slamming the doors behind them, still arguing about, of all things, grizzly bears. Cal opened the back door of the bus, checked the tape on J.D.’s ankles, then slammed the door again. A few moments later, J.D. heard the thump of something hard on metal not far from the bus. He pulled himself up. In the golden glow of lantern light, J.D. watched the three men load elk antlers into the back of an open semitrailer.

  He eased himself down to work on the tape wrapped around his wrists, only to stop a few minutes later to listen again. He could have sworn he heard another vehicle coming up the road. The boss and Denver? He thought of the blueberry syrup; he only hoped it had worked and the FBI would be able to find them. He fell to work on the tape again, running it back and forth against the dull ridges in the metal floor—the sharpest things he’d found in the rear of the bus.

  SHE STARED, SPELLBOUND by the spinning silver, stunned by its significance.

  “Max would have been proud of you, Denver,” Taylor said as he looked at the scene in the clearing. She noticed he touched the brake pedal with his foot twice. The coin spun around and around his fingers, a shiny blur. “You’re a damned good investigator.”

  In the clearing below, three men came out of the trailer for more antlers. Denver recognized Pete, Cal and Lester. She stared at them, her heart racing, then looked over at Taylor.

  “I never would have thought your blueberry-syrup trail would work,” he said, shaking his head.

  Denver went for the pistol between them and quickly turned it on Taylor, her hand shaking. “I remember,” she whispered as the earth seemed to cave in beneath her. He caught the coin in his fist and looked surprised she had the pistol on him. She stared at him, two nightmares playing in her mind. In each she saw the strange light, the spinning silver. “It was you,” she said. Just the other day at Maggie’s, she’d watched him spin a toothpick and thought it a nervous habit. Why hadn’t she realized then what it meant? “You were the masked robber. You were the one who killed my parents.”

  Taylor feigned shock. “Whatever would make you say such a thing?”

  “The coin.”

  He looked at the quarter in his hand. “The coin? It’s just a silly habit.”

  Denver nodded, the pistol wavering but still aimed in the general direction of his heart. “You picked up a coin from the counter that day at the bank and stood spinning it while you were waiting for the teller to bag the money. I saw you do it the other day at Maggie’s with a toothpick.”

  He gave her a slight bow. “Very astute.”

  She watched him glance in the rearview mirror at the road they’d just come down. Was he expecting someone? Denver darted a glance at the trio loading antlers, then at the bus. “Where’s J.D.?”

  “He’s not in the bus, if that’s what you’re thinking. I instructed Cal to tie him up and leave him in the woods. Only when the horns are safely on their way to the coast will I let the authorities know where to find you both.”

  “You’ve thought of everything,” she said softly, not sure she believed him. He’d killed everyone who’d tried to stop him; he wouldn’t let her and J.D. live. Not now.

  She considered getting out to search the bus herself, but knew the pistol in her hand or even the rifles behind her wouldn’t be enough to hold off four men. She just had to believe that wherever J.D. was, he was safe. And wait for the FBI to follow the same syrup trail she had.

  “You were never in the army with Max, were you?”

  He shook his head. “Everyone in town has heard Max’s army stories. It was easy enough to find out what I needed to know and bluff my way into your confidence.”

  “And the robbery? What did you do with the money?”

  A smile twisted his lips as he began to spin the coin again. “I spent it, of course.”

  Tears filled her eyes. “You killed my parents because of money.” She felt her finger tighten on the trigger; Taylor’s eyes narrowed for a moment.

  “No one would have been hurt if your father hadn’t come in when he did.” He actually sounded as if he believed that.

  “And Max? Was he to blame for his own death, also?” she demanded, fighting tears of pain and anger.

  “Max found out about the poaching. Cal realized it was just a matter of time before Max put it all together and realized that he was really William Collins, the former bank guard. Cal got panicky, and rather than have him turn state’s evidence against me, I took care of Max. I needed Cal to finish my work here in West Yellowstone.”

  Her heart ached as she stared at him. “Max must have trusted you to let you get so close that day at the dump.”

  He smiled. “For a few moments there, even Max believed we’d been in the army together.”

  “You tricked him into meeting you at the dump and then you killed him. After you’d put the money in his account.”

  He shrugged. “I thought with a few rumors and some money, Deputy Cline would think Max was the leader of the poaching ring.” The coin spun in a silver blur. “I fed Sheila Walker enough information to make her think maybe Max pulled off the bank job or at least was in on it.”

  Denver tried to steady the heavy pistol. “Anyone who knew Max knew he was too honest for that.”

  “Not all plans turn out the way you hope they will.”

  Denver caught him looking in the rearview mirror again. The pile of antlers was shrinking. Was he expecting someone? Roland Marsh? Or Deputy Cline? “Suggesting going to Marsh was just a test, huh? And Deputy Cline is—”

  Taylor grinned. “A chauvinist and a fool, but certainly not a man smart enough to operate a poaching ring the size of mine.” He watched as Cal picked up a large rack and added it to the pile in the truck. “This is only part of a huge smuggling network. I set Cal up here just to keep an eye on him. And it has its moments. Did you know a bear is worth more dead than alive? It’s like selling the parts from an expensive car.”

  With horrifying clarity, Denver realized Taylor was only telling her this because he planned to kill her, as well. She glanced down at the pistol in her hand.

  “Right again,” he said, smiling at her. “It isn’t loaded. You are very good at this.”

  She let him take the pistol from her trembling fingers. Taylor reached into his pocket and brought out six shells and began to insert them into the empty chambers, watching her closely. Slowly she dropped her hands to her sides in defeat. He relaxed a little and she saw her chance. She grabbed the door handle and pushed, throwing herself from the Suburban. The momentum sent her sprawling into the wet snow. She kicked the door shut and scrambled to her feet. On the other side, she heard Taylor yell at Pete and Cal as he climbed hastily out of the driver’s side of the Suburban. Denver ran toward the bus hoping to reach it before Taylor could fire at her.

  She was almost past the semi when someone tackled her from the darkness. She screamed as she fell with a force that knocked the air from her lungs.

  “I got her,” Cal Dalton called as he held her down. “I got her.”

  Denver looked over her shoulder to see Pete standing above her, a rifle in his hands. The expression on his face was one of total fury.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  J.D. pushed himself up the back of the bus seat. He swore in frustration as he saw what was happening. He dropped back down, working harder at the thick tape around his ankles. Just a little—The fibers in the thick, sticky tape finally gave way …

  Just as a shot exploded in the spring night.

  IT HAPPENED SO FAST, Denver wasn’t sure at first that she’d seen it.

  Pete pointed t
he rifle at Cal. “Get away from her.” His voice sounded far away. Cal looked up at him, no doubt expecting the rifle barrel to be aimed at her instead of his back.

  Taylor came into view behind Pete; in those split seconds, Denver saw him raise the pistol. She screamed a warning but the explosion drowned it out.

  Pete flew forward, hitting the ground hard. He rolled onto his side. Cal kicked the rifle away from him and Denver saw the bright red stain spreading across Pete’s right shoulder.

  He looked up at Taylor, resignation in his expression. “It’s all over, Midnight,” he said, his voice filled with pain. “The Feds will be here any minute. Do you think I trusted you enough to believe the location you gave me? I put a tracking device on the semi.”

  Taylor smiled. “Cal swept the bus and the semi. Forget about the Feds.” He glanced toward the bus. “Where’s Garrison?”

  “Tied up in the back,” Cal said. “Pete wouldn’t let me dump—”

  “You stupid—” Taylor swung the pistol on Cal, then seemed to change his mind. “Go get him. Lester, you keep loading horn.” Denver started to get up but Taylor waved her back down with the pistol. “That would be very foolish, my dear. I realize now that it would have been a lot easier if I’d killed you at the bank years ago.”

  Denver leaned over Pete. His shoulder glowed bright red, a flower bursting into bloom from between his fingers as he gripped it. Pain deformed his handsome face. She pulled off her gloves and placed them on the wound beneath his hand. He smiled faintly, tears in his blue eyes.

  “Move out of the way, Denver,” Taylor ordered.

  She glanced over her shoulder at him. “You aren’t going to kill him.”

  Taylor looked pained to say he was. “He’s working with the government, my dear. Obviously part of a sting operation if Roland Marsh is involved.”

  “Oh, Pete, I’m sorry,” she said, realizing she had helped give him away by telling Taylor about Marsh.

  Pete smiled ruefully. “He planned to murder us all in the end anyway. Once those antlers were loaded he was going to kill us. He’s too greedy to share any of the wealth, especially now that things have gone badly.”

  “How true.” Taylor raised the pistol, and shoved Denver aside. “Any dying request?”

  At that moment, Cal came from out of the darkness, running hard, breathing heavily as if he were being chased.

  “What the hell is it?” Taylor demanded.

  “J.D.’s gone.”

  “What?” Taylor glanced frantically around the clearing. “He can’t have gone far. Find him.”

  Cal didn’t move. Instead, he stared at the night, a look of fear coating his face as thick as any mask. “What’s wrong with you?” Taylor demanded. “I said go find him.”

  Cal licked his lips, his eyes darting into the darkness of the pines. “She’s out there. I heard her.”

  Taylor followed Cal’s gaze to the shadows beyond the semitrailer. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  Pete’s laugh was low.

  Taylor swung around to face him. “What’s going on?”

  “The mama grizzly,” Pete grunted, grimacing from the pain. “Cal killed a cub this morning on the other side of that stand of trees and wounded the sow. When he found out this was the shipment location …” Pete coughed, closing his eyes for a moment. “He’s convinced she’s coming back to get him.”

  Taylor picked up Pete’s rifle from the snow and tossed it to Cal. Then he grabbed the man’s coat collar and shoved him hard. Cal fell to one knee, then awkwardly got to his feet again. “Find J. D. Garrison or I’ll kill you.” Cal looked from the pistol in Taylor’s hand to the dark woods, and then back.

  “Bears aren’t like people,” Taylor said, his voice almost compassionate. “They don’t hold grudges, Cal. There’s only one danger out there in those woods and that’s J. D. Garrison.”

  Cal swallowed hard, glancing furtively into the trees. “That sow was the biggest I’ve ever seen, and wounded like that—”

  “She crawled off somewhere and died,” Taylor persisted, looking at his watch. “Just find me Garrison, then I’ll give you …” He looked around. “… Denver. She’s yours.” Cal’s eyes widened and he grinned, then he crept off into the darkness.

  Denver moved closer to Pete, hoping to shield him from Taylor. “Run, J.D., run,” she whispered. Beside her, Pete took her hand, motioning for her to be careful. She stared at him, startled when he led her fingers to the hunting knife in the top of his boot. He looked almost apologetic for suggesting it. She nodded and slipped the knife into the top of her own boot before Taylor turned around. “You can’t possibly believe you can get away with this,” Denver said to him, trying to block a straight shot at Pete.

  Taylor looked almost sad, and for a moment she thought he might regret what he’d done. “I’ll get away just like I did last time.” He settled his gaze on her. “Except this time I won’t leave any loose ends.”

  A scream tore open the night. Cal screamed again from the darkness beyond the semi. It was a terrified howl that made Taylor jerk Denver to her feet and hold her like a shield in front of him. He pointed the pistol in the direction the sound had come from, his hand shaking. “Cal? Cal!” Taylor swore as he dragged her around the back of the semitrailer. Lester wasn’t in sight. Taylor released her just long enough to extinguish the lantern.

  After a moment or two, Denver could make out shapes. One was too black, too big and moving too fast to be human. “The mama grizzly,” she whispered in horror as she realized the bear had Cal down in the snow. With horrifying clarity, she could hear the low growls between Cal’s screams. Taylor tightened his hold on her as he yelled for Lester to close the doors on the trailer. “You have to help Cal,” she pleaded.

  “I have to get this shipment to the coast.”

  Another figure moved among the pines. Denver saw J.D. lift a rifle to his shoulder and fire three quick shots in succession at the huge grizzly. Silence followed.

  “J.D.?” Taylor called, pressing the barrel of the pistol against Denver’s temple. “Come out where I can see you or I’ll have to kill your girlfriend.” Denver held her breath as J.D. stepped from the trees, Taylor’s rifle from the Suburban in his hands. She felt Taylor’s arm tense as he recognized the weapon. “Fool, there were only three bullets in that rifle and you wasted them on Cal!” He swung the pistol to fire at J.D.

  “No!” Denver screamed and lifted her boot for the knife. She grabbed it and drove the blade into Taylor’s thigh. The pistol exploded in her ears, the shot going wild. Taylor shoved her away as he grabbed for the knife stuck in his leg. Denver fell, hit the snowy ground and rolled away from him.

  After that, everything happened so fast, and yet she would always remember it in slow motion, a flashing sequence of motor-drive shots, each in focus, each as permanent as a photograph. Taylor pulling the knife from his thigh and cursing, throwing the knife into the darkness and turning the pistol on her again. A shotgun report roaring in her ears. Taylor spinning around in surprise to find J.D. holding a sawed-off shotgun in his hands. Then Taylor staring down at his trouser legs and the bright red flow of blood, his words a cry in the night—“You should have made it count, Garrison.” Taylor smiled as he brought the pistol up again, trying to steady it as he staggered on his wounded legs. First pointing it at J.D. and then swinging it on Denver again. Next, stumbling back, his legs refusing to hold him. His eyes widening as he saw the cache of antlers still beside the semitrailer. Swearing, then laughing as he must have realized what was going to happen. J.D. running for him. Taylor squeezing the trigger as he fell. The shot hitting somewhere in the trees overhead. J.D. reaching for Taylor but not being able to keep him from falling. And Taylor impaling himself on one large sharp tine in the pile of illegal antlers.

  Denver watched it all in horror. Right to the end when Taylor looked over at her, the pistol slipping from his fingers, and smiled at the irony.

  J.D. SWEPT DENVER UP from the snow and car
ried her to the Suburban. Her hands were ice-cold, but she didn’t seem to notice. And he realized she’d been running on pure adrenaline. He could only guess what Taylor had told her, but whatever it was had her wired long before the terror of the night had even begun. “Are you all right?” he asked, knowing better.

  She nodded. “Pete—”

  “He’s going to make it.”

  Denver looked around her as if blinded by the night. In the distance, he could hear the whine of a siren headed their way. He took off his coat and wrapped it around her.

  “It’s over, Denny,” he murmured. The sirens grew closer and lights flickered in the trees as the first of the park-service four-wheel-drive vehicles pulled into the clearing.

  Marsh jumped out, picked up Pete’s white hat from the trampled snow. Behind him, Cline swore. Denver began to cry. J.D. pulled her into the protective circle of his arms. “It’s going to be all right now,” he whispered. “It’s finally going to be all right.”

  Epilogue

  April 20

  When J.D. and Denver entered Pete’s hospital room they found District Ranger Roland Marsh and Deputy Bill Cline beside his bed.

  “We were just talking about you, Miss McCallahan,” Marsh said, and smiled. “You’re quite the heroine this morning.” He paused. “Pete says you saved his life last night.”

  She met Pete’s blue-eyed gaze. “I think it was the other way around.” He looked pale and older, as if his boyish good looks had taken on a sudden maturity.

  “Thank you,” Pete said, his voice weak. His gaze moved to J.D. standing behind her. “You, too, J.D. I owe you my life.”

  Cline grumbled under his breath. “They both almost got me killed.”