Montana Sky (32 page)

And what he wanted to do, what he'd imagined doing to her in that room, on that bed, wasn't the way a civilized man should initiate a virgin.

“Sorry.” He eased back to study her face. Fear and confusion and desire swirled in her eyes. He could have done without the fear. “I didn't mean to spook you, Will. I forgot myself a minute.” To lighten the mood, he flicked a finger at a curl. “Must be the hairdo.”

He was sorry, she realized, more than a little stunned. And something else was in his eyes. It couldn't be tenderness, not from him, but she was certain it was a softer emotion than lust. Maybe, she thought—and smiled a little—maybe it was affection.

“It's okay. I guess I forgot myself for a minute too. Must have been the way you were gulping me down like two quarts of prime whiskey.”

“You've got a tendency to be as potent,” he muttered.

“I do?”

The stunned female response got his blood moving again. “Don't get me started. I really came up to let you know that Adam and I are riding up into high country to take a look around. Zack says the north pass is blocked by snow. And he thought some hunters might be making use of your cabin.”

“Why does he think that?”

“On one of his flyovers he caught sight of tracks, other signs.” Ben shrugged it off. “Wouldn't be the first time, but since I want to see how bad the pass is blocked, Adam and I thought we'd swing up and check it out.”

“I'll go with you. I'll be ready in fifteen minutes.”

“We're getting a late start. Odds are we won't make it back tonight. We can radio you from the cabin.”

“I'm going. Ask Adam to saddle Moon for me, and I'll pack my gear.”

 

I
T WAS GOOD TO RIDE
.
WILLA THOUGHT
.
GOOD TO BE IN
the saddle, out in the air that crisped with the climb. Moon
loped easily through the snow, apparently pleased to be out herself. Her breath plumed ahead and her harness jingled.

The sun shone bright, dazzling light off the untrod snow, adding glitter to the draped trees. Here in high country, spring would come late and last hardly more than a precious moment.

A falcon called, a scream in the silence, and she saw signs of deer, of other game, of predators that hunted the hills. Perhaps she had enjoyed her weekend of pampering, but this was her world. The higher she climbed, the more thrilled she was to be back.

“You look pleased with yourself.” Ben flanked her left and, keeping an easy hand on the reins, studied her face. “What did they do to you up there at that fancy spa?”

“All sorts of things. Wonderful things.” She tilted her head, sent him a sly smile. “They waxed me. All over.”

“No kidding?” He felt a pleasant little thrumming in his loins. “
All
over?”

“Yep. I've been scraped down, oiled up, waxed and polished. It was pretty good. You ever had coconut oil rubbed over your entire body, Ben?”

The thrumming increased considerably. “You offering, Willa?”

“I'm telling you. At the end of the day this guy would rub—”

“Guy?” He shot straight arrow in the saddle. The sharp tone of his voice had Charlie scampering back from his scouting mission and whining. “What guy?”

“The massage guy.”

“You let a guy rub your—”

“Sure.” Satisfied with his reaction, she turned to Adam. The gleam in his eye assured her that her brother knew just what game she was playing. “Lily had something called aromatherapy. It seemed to me to be a lot like our mother's people have been doing for centuries. Using herbs and scents to relax the mind, and the body. Now they've slapped on a fancy name and charge you an arm and a leg for it.”

“White men,” Adam said with a grin. “Always seeking profit from nature.”

“That was my thought. In fact, I asked Lily's massage therapist why she figured—”

“She?” Ben interrupted. “Lily had a woman massage lady?”

“That's right. So I asked her why it was she figured her people had come up with all these treatments when the Indians had been using mud and herbs and oils before there were whites within a thousand miles of the Rockies.”

“How come Lily had a woman and you didn't?”

Willa glanced over at Ben. “Lily's shy. Anyway, some of the treatments seemed very basic. And the oils and creams not unlike what our grandmother would have brewed up in her own lodge.”

“They put it in fancy bottles and make it theirs,” Adam added.

Ben knew when his chain was being pulled, and now he shifted in the saddle. “They use bear grease on you, too?”

Willa bit off a smile. “Actually I suggested they look into it. You should tell Shelly to take a weekend there when the baby's weaned. Tell her to ask for Derrick. He was amazing.”

Adam coughed into his hand, then clucked to his horse and took the lead, with Charlie trotting happily in his wake.

“So you let this guy, this Derrick guy, see you naked?”

“He's a professional.” She flicked back her curling hair, no longer embarrassed a bit. “I'm thinking of getting regular massages. They're very . . . relaxing.”

“I bet.” Reaching over, Ben put a hand on her arm, slowing both their mounts. “I've just got one question.”

“What is it?”

“Are you trying to drive me crazy?”

“Maybe.”

He nodded. “Because you figure it's safe since we're out here and Adam's just up ahead.”

The smile got away from her. “Maybe.”

“Think again.” He moved fast, leaning into her, dragging her into him and fixing his mouth hard on hers. When he let her jerk back, control her frisking mount, he was smiling.
“I'm going to buy me some coconut oil, and we'll see how you look in it.”

Her heart stuttered, settled. “Maybe,” she said again. She started to kick Moon into a trot.

The shot crashed and echoed, a high-pitched, shocking sound. Too close, was all Willa had time to think before Adam's horse reared, nearly unseating him.

“Idiots,” she said between her teeth. “Goddamn citified idiots must be—”

“Take cover.” Ben all but shoved her out of the saddle, swinging his mount to her other side as a shield. He had his rifle out in a lightning move even as he plunged knee-deep into the snow. “Use the trees, and stay down.”

But she'd seen now, the blood that stained the sleeve of Adam's jacket. And seeing it, she was running toward her brother, in the open. Ben swore ripely as he tackled her, used his body to cover hers as another shot exploded.

She fought bitterly, bucking and clawing in the snow. Terror was a hot, red haze. “Adam—he's shot. Let me go.”

“Keep down.” Ben's face was close to hers, his voice cold and calm as he held her under him. Charlie barked like thunder, quivering for the signal to hunt. He subsided only when Ben gave him the terse order to stay.

Still covering Willa, Ben shifted his eyes as Adam bellied toward them. “How bad?”

“Don't know.” The pain was bright, a violent song up his arm to the shoulder. “I think he got more of the coat than me. Will, you're not hit?” He rubbed a snow-coated glove over her face. “Will?”

“No. You're bleeding.”

“It's okay. His aim was off.”

She closed her eyes a moment, willing herself to calm. “It was deliberate. It wasn't some stupid hunter.”

“Had to be a long-range rifle,” Ben murmured, lifting his head enough to scan the trees, the hills. He slid a hand over his dog's vibrating back to calm him. “I can't see anything. From the direction, I'd guess he's holed up in that gulch, up there in the rocks.”

“With plenty of cover.” Willa forced her breath slowly in, slowly out. “We can't get to him.”

Trust her, Ben thought, to think first of attack. He slid off Willa, steadied his rifle. “We're almost to the cabin. You and Willa make for it, keep to the trees. I can draw his fire here.”

“The hell with that. I'm not leaving you here.” She started to scramble up, but Ben pushed her flat again. In the seconds that his eyes held Adam's, the men agreed how to handle it.

“Adam's bleeding,” Ben said quietly. “He has to be looked after. You get him to the cabin, Will. I'll be right behind you.”

“We can make a stand in the cabin if we have to.” Blocking out the pain, Adam walked his way through the details. “Ben, we can cover you from up ahead. When you hear our fire, start after us.”

Ben nodded. “Once I get to that stand of rocks where we used to have that fort, I'll fire. That'll give you time to make it to the cabin. Fire again so I'll know you made it.”

Now she had to choose, Willa realized, between one man and the other. The blood staining the snow gave her no choice at all. “Don't do anything stupid.” She took Ben's face in her hands, kissed him hard. “I don't like heroes.”

Keeping low, she grabbed the reins of her horse. “Can you mount?” she said to Adam.

“Yeah. Stay in the trees, Willa. We're going to move fast.” With one last look at Ben, Adam swung into the saddle. “Ride!”

She didn't have time to look back. But she would remember, she knew she would remember always, the way Ben knelt alone in the snow, the shadows of trees shielding his face and a rifle lifted to his shoulder.

She'd lied, she thought when she heard him fire once, twice, three times. She had an open heart for heroes.

“There's no return fire,” she called out as she and Adam pulled up behind a tower of rock. “Maybe he's gone.”

Or maybe he was waiting, Adam thought. He said nothing as Willa unsheathed her rifle. She fired a steady half dozen
rounds. “He'll be all right, won't he, Adam? If the sniper tries to circle around and—”

“Nobody knows this country better than Ben.” He said it quickly to reassure both of them. He'd left his brother behind, was all he could think. Because it was all that could be done. “We've got to keep moving, Willa. We can give Ben the best cover from the cabin.”

She couldn't argue, not when Adam's face was so pale, not when the cabin, warmth, and medical supplies were only minutes away. But she knew what none of them had said: There was no cover for the last fifty yards. To get inside, they would have to ride in the open.

The sun was bright, the snow dazzling. She had no doubt that they stood out against that white like deer in a meadow. In the distance she could hear the frigid sound of water forcing its way over ice and rock and, closer, the rapid sound of her own breathing.

Rocks punched out of snow, trees crouched. She rode with her rifle in her hand, prepared for some faceless gunman to leap out at any moment and take aim. Overhead an eagle circled and called out in triumph. She counted the seconds away by her heartbeats, and bit down hard on her lip when she heard the echo of Ben's rifle.

“He made it to the stand of rocks.”

She could see the cabin now, the sturdy wooden structure nestled on rocky ground. Inside, she thought, was safety. First aid for Adam, a radio to signal for help. Shelter.

“Something's wrong.” She heard herself say it before it became completely clear. A picture out of focus, a puzzle with pieces missing. “Someone's shoveled a path,” she said slowly. “And there are tracks.” She took a deep breath. “I can still smell smoke.” Nothing puffed from the chimney, but she could catch the faint whiff of smoke in the air. “Can you?”

“What?” Adam shook his head, fought to stay conscious. “No, I . . .” The world kept threatening to gray on him. He couldn't feel his arm now, not even the pain.

“It's nothing.” Moving on instinct, Willa shoved her rifle back in its sheath, took Adam's reins with her free hand. In
the open or not, they would have to move quickly before he lost any more blood. “Nearly there, Adam. Hold on. Hold on to the horn.”

“What?”

“Hold on to the horn. Look at me.” She snapped it out so that his eyes cleared for a moment. “Hold on.”

She kicked Moon into a gallop, shouting to urge Adam's mount to keep pace. If Adam fell before they reached safety, she was prepared to leap down, drag him if necessary, and let the horses go.

They burst into a flash of sunlight, blinding. Snow flew up from racing hooves like water spewing. She rode straight in the saddle, using her body to defend her brother's. And every muscle was braced for that quick insult of steel into flesh.

Rather than taking the cleared path, she drove the horses toward the south side of the cabin. Even when the shadow of the building fell over them, she didn't relax. The sniper could be anywhere now. She dragged her weapon free, jumped the saddle, then fought the nearly waist-high snow to reach Adam as he swayed.

“Don't you pass out on me now.” Her breath burned in her lungs as she struggled to support him. His blood was warm on her hands. “Damned if I'm carrying you.”

“Sorry. Hell. Just give me a second.” He needed all his concentration to beat back the dizziness. His vision was blurred around the edges, but he could still see. And he could still think. Well enough to know they wouldn't be safe until they were inside the cabin walls. And even then . . .

“Get inside. Fire off a shot to let Ben know. I'll get the gear.”

“The hell with the gear.” Willa steadied him against her side and dragged him toward the door.

Too warm, she thought the minute she was inside the door. Pulling Adam toward a cot, she glanced at the fireplace. Nothing but ash and chunks of charred wood. But she could smell the memory of a recent fire.

“Lie down. Hold on a minute.” Hurrying back to the
door, she fired three times to signal Ben, then closed them in. “He'll be right along,” she said, and prayed it was true. “We have to get your coat off.”

Stop the bleeding, get a fire started, clean the wound, radio the ranch, worry for Ben.