Montana Sky (12 page)

“Hey.” Ben slid off his horse, the rifle slung by its strap over his shoulder. “Willa.”

A springing wildcat wouldn't have surprised him as much as her turning, burying her face in his chest. “Ben. Oh, God.” Her arms came around him, clung. “Oh, God.”

“It's all right, darling. It's all right now.”

“No.” She squeezed her eyes tight. “No. In front of the rig. The other rig. There's . . . God, the blood.”

“Okay, baby, sit down. I'll see to it.” Grim-faced, he eased her down on the running board of the rig, frowning when she put her head between her knees and shuddered. “Just sit there, Will.”

By the look on her face, and the din his dog was sounding, Ben thought it must be another steer, or one of the ranch dogs. He was already furious before he stepped up to the abandoned rig. Before he saw it was more, much more, than a steer.

“Sweet Jesus.”

He might not have recognized the man, not after what had been done to him. But he recognized the rig, the boots, the hat covered with blood lying near the body. His stomach twisted with both sickness and fury. One thought broke through both as he gave Charlie a sharp order to silence: Whoever did this wasn't simply mad, he was evil.

He turned quickly at the sound behind him, then spread out an arm to block Willa's path. “Don't.” His voice was rough, and the hand on her arm firm. “There's nothing you can do, and no need for you to see that again.”

“I'm all right now.” She put a hand on Ben's and stepped closer. “He was mine, and I'll look at him.” She rubbed the heels of her hands under her eyes. “They scalped him, Ben. For God's sake. For God's sweet sake. They cut him to pieces and scalped him.”

“That's enough.” His hands weren't gentle as he turned her around, forced her head back until their eyes met. “That's enough, Willa. Go back to your rig, radio the police.”

She nodded, but when she didn't move, he wrapped his arms around her again, cradled her head on his chest. “Just
hold on a minute,” he murmured. “Just hold on to me.”

“I sent him out here, Ben.” She didn't just hold, she burrowed. “He pissed me off and I told him to ride out here or pack up and pick up his check. I sent him out here.”

“Stop it.” Alarmed by the way her voice fractured on each word, he pressed his lips to her hair. “You know you're not to blame for this.”

“He was mine,” she repeated, then shuddering once, drew away. “Cover him up, Ben. Please. He needs to be covered up.”

“I'll take care of it.” He touched her cheek, wishing he could rub color back into it. “Stay in the rig, Will.”

He waited until she was back in the vehicle, then pulled the grease-stained tarp out of the bed of Pickles's truck. It would have to do.

F
ROM THE KITCHEN WINDOW LILY COULD SEE THE FOREST
and the climb of mountains into the sky. Night was coming more quickly as October gave way to November. From the window, she could watch the sun drop toward the peaks. It had hardly been two weeks since she'd come to Montana, but already she knew that once the sun fell behind those shadowy hills night would come swiftly and the air would quickly chill.

The dark still frightened her.

She looked forward to the dawns. To the days. There was so much to do, she could spend hours on the chores. She was grateful to be useful again, to feel a part of something. In so short a time she had come to depend on seeing that wide spread of sky, the rise of mountains, the sea of land. She'd come to count on hearing the sounds of horses, cattle, and men. And the smell of them.

She loved her room, the privacy of it, and the grace, and the house with all its space and polished wood. The library was stuffed with books, and she could read every night if she chose to, or listen to music, or leave the TV murmuring.

No one cared what she did with her evenings. No one criticized her small mistakes, or raised a hand to her.

Not yet.

Adam was so patient. And he was gentle as a mother with the horses. With her as well, she admitted. When he guided her hands down a horse's leg to show her how to check for strains, he didn't squeeze. He'd shown her how to use a dandy brush, how to medicate a split hoof, how to mix supplements for a pregnant mare.

And when he'd caught her feeding an apple to a yearling on the sly, he hadn't lectured. He'd just smiled.

The hours they worked together were the best of her life. This new world that had opened up for her had given her hope, a chance for a future.

Now that could be over.

A man was dead.

She shuddered to think of it, to be forced to admit that murder had slunk into her bright new world. In one vicious stroke, a man's life was over, and she was once again helpless to control what happened next.

It shamed her that she thought more of herself and what would happen to her than of the man who had been killed. It was true that she hadn't known him. With the skill of the hunted, Lily had easily avoided the men of Mercy Ranch. But he had been part of her new world, and it was selfish not to think of him first.

“Christ, what a mess.”

Lily jumped as Tess swung into the kitchen, and her hand tensed on the dishrag she'd forgotten she was holding. “I made coffee. Fresh. Are they . . . is everyone still here?”

“Will's still talking to the cowboy cops, if that's what you mean.” Tess wandered to the stove, wrinkled her nose at the coffeepot. “I stayed out of the way, so I don't know what's going on, exactly.” She walked to the pantry, opening and closing the door in jerks. “Anything stronger than coffee around here?”

Lily twisted the dishrag in her hands. “I think there's wine, but I don't think we should disturb Willa to ask.”

Tess just rolled her eyes and wrenched open the
refrigerator. “This adequate, if slightly inferior, bottle of Chardonnay is as much ours as hers.” Taking it out, Tess asked, “Got a corkscrew?”

“I saw one earlier.” She made herself put down the cloth. She'd already wiped the counters clean twice. Opening a drawer, she took out a corkscrew and handed it to Tess. “I, ah, made some soup.” She gestured toward the pot on the stove. “Bess is still running a fever, but she managed to eat a bowl of it. I think—I hope she'll be feeling better by tomorrow.”

“Uh-huh.” Tess searched out wineglasses herself, poured. “Sit down, Lily. I think we should talk.”

“Maybe I should take out some coffee.”

“Sit down. Please.” Tess slipped onto the wooden bench of the breakfast nook and waited.

“All right.” Lily sat down across the polished table and folded her hands in her lap.

Tess slid the wineglass over, lifted her own. “I suppose eventually we should get into the story of our lives, but this doesn't seem to be the right time.” From her pocket she took the single cigarette she'd slipped out of her secret emergency pack, twirling it in her fingers before reaching for the book of matches. “This is a pretty ugly business.”

“Yes.” Automatically Lily rose, fetched an ashtray, and brought it back to the table. “That poor man. I don't know which one he was, but—”

“The balding one, with the big moustache and bigger belly,” Tess told her, and with a shrug for willpower, lit the cigarette.

“Oh.” Now that she had a face to focus on, Lily felt the shame grow. “Yes, I've seen him. He was stabbed, wasn't he?”

“I think it was worse than that, but I don't have a lot of the details other than Will found him on one of those roads that go all over the ranch.”

“It must have been horrible for her.”

“Yeah.” Tess grimaced, picked up her wine. She might not have been fond of her youngest half sister, but she wouldn't have wished this particular experience on anyone.
“She'll handle it. They breed them tough out here. Anyway . . .” She sipped, found the wine not quite as inferior as she'd thought. “What about you? Are you staying or going?”

More out of a need to do something with her hands than a desire for wine, Lily reached for her glass. “I don't really have anyplace else to go. I suppose you'll be going back to California.”

“I've thought about it.” Tess leaned back, studied the woman across from her. Keeps her eyes down, Tess mused, and her hands busy. She'd been certain that shy Lily would already have booked a flight to anywhere. “I figure it this way. People are murdered every day in LA. Kids regularly whack each other for painting graffiti in the wrong territory. There are drug hits every time you blink. Shootings, knifings, muggings, bludgeonings.” She smiled. “God, I love that town.”

Catching Lily's appalled expression, Tess threw back her head and laughed. “Sorry,” she managed after a moment, pressing a hand to her heart. “My point is that as bad as this is, as close as it is, it's only one murder. Comparatively, it just isn't that big a deal, certainly not big enough to chase me away from collecting what's mine.”

Lily drank again, struggled to gather her thoughts. “You're staying. You're going to stay.”

“Yeah, I'm going to stay. Nothing's changed.”

“I thought—” Closing her eyes, Lily let the relief run through her and twine with the shame. “I was sure you wouldn't, and then I'd have to leave.” She opened her eyes again, soft, quiet blue with hints of haunted gray. “That's horrible. That poor man's dead, and all I've been able to think about is how it affects me.”

“That's just honest. You didn't know him. Hey.” Because there was something about Lily that tugged at her, Tess reached for her sister's hand. “Don't beat yourself up over it. We've all got a lot at stake here. We're entitled to think about what's ours.”

Lily looked down at the joined hands. Tess's were so pretty, she thought, with the glitter of rings and the enviable
strength and confidence in the fingers. She lifted her gaze. “I didn't do anything to deserve this place. Neither did you.”

Tess merely nodded and, withdrawing her hand, lifted her glass again. “I didn't do anything to deserve being ignored my entire life. And neither did you.”

Willa came into the kitchen, stopped short when she saw the women at the table. Her face was still pale, her movements still jerky. After all the questions, the going over and over her discovery of the body, she'd been more than happy to see the police on their way.

“Well, this is cozy.” She slipped her hands into her pockets as she stepped toward the table. Her fingers still tended to shake. “I figured the two of you would be packing, not sitting around having a chat.”

“We've been talking about that.” Tess lifted an eyebrow but made no comment when Will picked up her wineglass and drank. “We're not going anywhere.”

“Is that so?” Because wine seemed like a fine idea, Willa crossed to the cupboards and took out a tumbler. Then she just stood there, unable to move, barely able to think.

She hadn't been able to fully consider the loss of the ranch. It had been there, in the back of her mind, the certainty that the two women who had been pushed on her would run. And with them would go her life. But it wasn't until now, until she knew they would stay, that it hit her. And it hit hard.

Giving in, she rested her head against the cupboard door and closed her eyes.

Pickles. Dear God, would she see him for the rest of her life, what had been done to him, what had been left of him? And all that blood, baking in the sun. The way his eyes had stared up at her, the horror frozen in them.

But the ranch, for now, was safe.

“Oh God, oh God, oh God.”

She didn't realize she'd moaned it out loud until Lily laid a tentative hand on her shoulder. Shrinking from the touch, Willa straightened quickly.

“I made soup.” Lily felt foolish saying it but could think
of nothing else. “You should eat something.”

“I don't think I could handle food right now.” Willa stepped back, afraid that too much comfort would break her. She walked back to the table and, under Tess's fascinated eye, filled the tumbler full of wine.

“That's good,” Tess murmured, watching in admiration as Willa gulped wine like water. “That's damn good. How long can you do that and still stand up?”

“We'll have to find out.” She turned when the kitchen door opened, drew a steadying breath when Ben came in.

She didn't want to berate herself for leaning on him, for collapsing in his arms, for letting him do the dirty work while she had sat by, too ill to function. But it was hard to swallow.

“Ladies.” In a gesture that mimicked Willa's habit, he took the glass from her hand and sipped. “Here's to the end of a lousy day.”

“I'll drink to that.” Tess did, as she studied him. The gilded cowboy, she mused. And a mouthwaterer. “I'm Tess. You must be Ben McKinnon.”

“Nice to meet you. Sorry it isn't under more pleasant circumstances.” He lifted a hand to Willa's chin, turned her face to his. “Go lie down.”

“I have to talk to the men.”

“No, you don't. What you have to do is go lie down and turn this off for a while.”

“I'm not going to pull the covers over my head because—”

“There's nothing you can do,” he interrupted. She was trembling. He could feel just how hard she was fighting it, but the tremors came through and into his fingertips. “You're sick and you're tired, and you've just had to relive an ugly experience half a dozen times. Adam is taking the cops down to talk to the men in the bunkhouse, and there's nothing for you to do but try to get some sleep.”

“My men are—”

“Who's going to pull them together tomorrow—and the day after—if you break down?” He inclined his head when she shut her mouth. “Now you can go up and lie down
under your own steam, Will, or I'll take you myself. Either way, that's what you're going to do. Right now.”

Tears burned the back of her eyes, bubbled hot in her throat. Too proud to shed them in front of him, she shoved his hand aside, swiveled on her heel, and stalked out.

“I'm impressed,” Tess murmured when the kitchen door slammed. “I didn't think anyone could push her around.”

“She'd have pushed back, but she knew she'd break. Will won't let herself break.” He frowned into his wine, wishing he'd been able to gentle her into it instead of browbeating her. “I don't know many who could have gotten through what she did today without breaking.”

“Should she be alone?” Lily pressed her fingers to her lips. “I could go up with her, but . . . I don't know if she'd want that.”

“No, she's better off alone.” But Ben smiled, pleased that she'd offered. “This hasn't exactly been a weekend at a dude ranch resort for either of you, but I'll say welcome to Montana anyway.”

“I love it here.” The minute she'd said it, Lily flushed and scrambled to her feet as Tess chuckled. “Would you like something to eat? I made soup, and there's plenty of fixings for sandwiches.”

“Angel, if that's your soup I'm smelling, I'd be grateful to have a bowl.”

“Good. Tess?”

“Sure, why the hell not?” Since Lily seemed eager to serve, Tess stayed where she was, tapping her fingers on the table. “Do the police think it was someone from the ranch who did it?”

Ben slid in across from her. “I imagine they'll concentrate here, first anyway. There's no public access to the ranch, but that doesn't mean someone from outside couldn't have found the way out there. A horse, a jeep.” He moved his shoulders, skimmed a hand through his hair. “It's easy enough access from Three Rocks to Mercy land. Hell, I was there myself.”

He lifted an eyebrow at Tess's speculative look. “Of course, I can tell you I didn't do it, but you don't know me.
It's also possible to get there through the Rocking R Ranch, or Nate's place, or the high country.”