Ride the Thunder (42 page)

“I don’t know who else it could have been, but it wasn’t my father!” There was angry frustration in her repeated denial. “How could you be so crazy to think he’d want to kill you? Brig, what’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing is wrong with me. Fletcher wants me dead because I told him I knew Max had been killed. Surely he mentioned it to you.” His expression was jeering in its mockery of her ignorance.

“Killed? That was an accident,” Jordanna protested.

“Some accident!” he scoffed and grabbed for his jacket. Out of its pocket, he took a briar. “How many horses wouldn’t buck off an inexperienced rider with this under the saddle? Don’t tell me you haven’t seen it before?”

She stared at it, round-eyed. “I have. You said it was your good luck charm.” She lifted her gaze to his face. “Are you saying that is what caused Max’s accident?”

“It wasn’t an accident. It was murder. But I’m sure that, as your father’s accomplice, you’ll never admit it.”

“No, that’s not true. I don’t know how those thorns got under Max’s saddle, but I had nothing to do with it. And neither did my father.”

“Stop pretending, Jordanna,” he said contemptuously. “While you so thoughtfully brought my coffee to me that morning, you made sure I never made it to the horses and gave your father ample opportunity to slip this under the saddle. Which he did.”

“No.”

“I should have gotten wise when your father failed to warn Max about the snake. I didn’t even suspect anything when he tricked Max into crossing that ledge without warning him about the undermined area. But my mind and my senses were all twisted up with you. That was the plan all along, wasn’t it? To have me so besotted with you that I wouldn’t notice what was going on? It damned near worked, too. You were such an enchanting little seductress that when we weren’t in bed, I was thinking about it. Even when I overheard Fletcher give you orders to be ‘nice’ to me, I didn’t question why. I was still fool enough to believe his story about wanting a ram. And I didn’t care why you were doing it as long as I could have you any time I wanted you.”

“No! You’ve got it all wrong! I didn’t go to bed with you because he told me to!” Bitter tears were in her eyes. “I did it because I wanted to—because I loved you! Dad had nothing to do with it! And he had nothing to do with Max’s death and you can’t prove that he did!”

“That’s what he said.” Brig was unmoved.

“Wh-What he said?” she repeated in shock. “Do you mean . . . he knows you think he killed Max?”

“Why else do you think he shot at me? He doesn’t want me to start talking about what I know. He nearly shut me up for good, too. Another couple of seconds and . . .” He left the obvious unsaid. “You almost distracted me long enough, Jordanna.”

“Liar. None of this is true! You’re making this all up. Why?” she demanded, choking on a frightened sob. “Why are you doing this?”

“You know it’s true. Fletcher is out there now, looking for me. He has to kill me. He can’t let me get away, not after missing me once.”

“Liar! Jordanna raged. She hurled herself at him, swinging and kicking wildly, sobbing and screaming over and over, “Liar! Liar! Liar!”

The hot tears were streaming down her face, blinding
her vision. Few of her hysterical blows actually hit him, but it was several minutes before Brig could capture her flailing arms and twist them behind her back. The sheer uselessness of fighting someone so much stronger than herself reduced Jordanna to a trembling mass of broken sobs.

B
RIG HELD HER
close, absorbing her violent shudders with his body. No actress, no matter how excellent, could have worked herself into this emotional state. A frown gathered on his forehead, the lines deepening as the quaking sobs became less severe. He released her arms and stroked the tangled silk of her auburn hair. His chest was wet with her tears.

“It isn’t true,” he heard her murmur brokenly.

His hand trembled as it cupped her jaw and lifted her face for his inspection. Tormented anguish was in the troubled green flecks of her hazel eyes. The doubts of her guilt that had been nagging him were suddenly confirmed and relief trembled through him, relief and a swelling gentleness.

“You didn’t know, did you?”

She covered her ears with her hands to block out his voice and shut her eyes tightly, squeezing out the last tears. “I don’t want to hear any more of your lies about my father.”

Brig gathered her stiff body into his arms and rubbed
his chin against her hair. He felt her pain and confusion, the wrenching tear of loyalty. He realized how brutal he had been to a victim as innocent as himself, but he’d had to be sure.

“It’s true, Jordanna. I’m sorry.” His voice was husky with regret. “Fletcher did not choose me by accident to guide this hunting party. He had me thoroughly investigated. He knew all about my association with Max and the Sanger Corporation, all the ill feelings that were between us. He killed Max and set me up as the fall guy if there was any evidence uncovered to prove it wasn’t an accident. Unfortunately for him, I found the evidence and put two and two together.”

“But why?” she protested, lifting her puzzled face to him and impatiently wiping away the tears trickling down her cheek. “Why would he want to kill Max?”

“I don’t know. That’s the one thing I haven’t been able to figure out.” A nerve jerked in his jaw. “Do you? What was Max to him?”

“He was . . . just a business acquaintance.” Jordanna lifted her shoulders in an unknowing shrug. “He’d been bugging Dad to buy some stock in the company. Dad said he’d had the company investigated and . . .” She stopped, her widened gaze flying in comprehension to Brig. “He had you investigated, too. Dad was the one who told me you were once a mercenary, not Max. He did know all about you.”

“Did he have any intentions of buying Max’s stock?” Brig saw the fear and alarm that leapt into her eyes.

He watched her struggle to remember. “He said he might. The company was almost bankrupt, but he thought with financial backing and the right man in charge, it would be all right. Do you inherit it all, Brig?”

“Yes. Did he tell you that, too?”

“Yes.” Jordanna lowered her head, looking away from him. “Dad wouldn’t kill Max. He had no reason.”

“Why did he invite Max along?”

“He didn’t. You did.” She paused, doubt flashing in her eyes. “Didn’t you? He told us you did.”

“I didn’t invite Max.”

“But how could that be?” Her head moved in bewildered denial. “Dad said you invited Max, and there wasn’t anything he could do about it. You two were cousins and it was a long time since you’d been together. Besides which, Max wanted to sell him that stock.”

“I was there when your father initially made the suggestion that Max should come on a hunting trip with him. Later, he specifically suggested this trip. Max jumped at the chance, but certainly not because of me,” Brig insisted dryly. “In fact, I’m sure he wished I was on the other side of the world.”

“But it doesn’t make sense,” she argued, stiffening in his arms. “Why would Dad lie about the invitation? Why would he say you invited him if you didn’t?”

“You’ll have to ask him that question. I can only guess that he didn’t want anyone suspecting that he wanted Max on the hunting trip. If you and everyone else believed that I invited Max, and your father had to tolerate his presence, he would be less of a suspect if the murder was uncovered.”

“No. Dad wouldn’t do this.” Jordanna twisted out of his arms, angry and uncertain. “You’re making all of this up. All I have is your word that he has anything to do with Max’s death.”

“That’s part of the plan. My word against his. An ex-mercenary against a very wealthy and highly respected man. That’s why I didn’t mention any of this to the authorities until I could get some proof. It’s a pity that bullet didn’t get lodged in my leg so I would have it.” Brig watched her, noting the contradiction in her proudly lifted head and her hunched shoulders. “Take him down off the pedestal, Jordanna. He’s out there right now, hunting me.”

“Why shouldn’t he be?” She pivoted around to confront him, flame-brown hair whirling about her shoulders. “He probably thinks we got lost in that storm, or that you abducted me. Kit and Jocko are probably with him.”

“Believe me, Fletcher didn’t go back to camp without us,” Brig stated. “He can’t risk a search party until he knows I’m dead. Jocko won’t be worried about us until we don’t show up tonight. He’ll think we started back for camp too late yesterday and holed up when the snow came. Fletcher isn’t going to have them help him find us. He can’t risk having witnesses he can’t control around when I meet with my ‘hunting accident.’ ”

“What about me? I’m one of your witnesses,” Jordanna challenged.

“You don’t even want to believe he’s responsible for this.” Brig touched his wounded thigh. “Daddy can’t do any wrong in your eyes. He can control you. He can convince you it was a tragic accident. The gun went off accidentally—or he mistook me for some wild game. I’m sure he’ll come up with a good story and you’ll be so anxious to believe him, you won’t question it.”

“No,” she denied, but her gaze fell under his level regard.

“But he couldn’t have Jocko along, because he might present a problem. Your father has to have guessed that he can’t buy Jocko’s silence any more than he could have bought mine.”

“Buy your silence? What are you talking about?”

“He made me a very tempting proposition in town the other day, when I confronted him about Max’s death.”

“What kind of a proposition?” She looked wary and uncertain.

“First, he offered to provide the financial backing the Sanger Company needed, fully aware that I would inherit it. He didn’t like it when I told him what he could do with his money and the Sanger Corporation.”

“You can’t condemn him for making that offer. He wasn’t necessarily trying to buy you,” she argued. “Dad had already said that with the right man in charge, he would be interested in investing in the company. He probably thought you were the right man.”

“Maybe. But when I turned down that offer, he made me a second, more tempting one. You.”

“You’re lying!” she hissed, and would have slapped him if Brig hadn’t caught her hand. This time he didn’t seek to punish her, and his grip was firm rather than brutal.

“He suggested in a roundabout way that you would marry me if I asked you.” He saw the pink of humiliation creep into her cheeks. “When I didn’t react to the idea with proper enthusiasm, he indicated that his wedding gift to us would enable me to make a considerable number of costly improvements to the ranch.”

“No doubt you told him what he could do with that offer, too,” Jordanna murmured tightly.

“I did,” Brig admitted. “When he discovered he couldn’t keep Max’s skeleton in the family closet, he had to resort to this.”

“But why? You haven’t given me a single reason. There must be some kind of mistake.” Brig could see the desperation clawing at her.

“I don’t know the reason, but I’m going to find out.” He kept his voice calm, but it didn’t mask his determination. “Whatever it is, it’s been building up inside him for a long time. I think he tried to ruin Max financially first. Max was a threat to your father somehow, and he tried to crush him. When that didn’t work, he killed him.”

“You’re mistaken. You have to be.” Brig heard the doubt in her voice.

“I’m right,” he said quietly. “I just hope you’re not standing over my body when you finally realize it.” He heard her sharp gasp of dismay and knew he had said all he could say. She had to think it over herself and decide whether to believe him or not. “The snow is melting in the pot. You said something about some soup.” He reached for his shirt. “I’ll bring in some of the firewood you found outside.”

“Your leg . . .” she started to protest.

“It’s fine.”

It hurt like hell, but he couldn’t let it stiffen up on
him. There wasn’t much chance that Fletcher would find this cabin. The snow would have covered their tracks. They would be safe as long as they stayed here, but how long could they last, subsisting on tree bark? Without weapons, their only hope of catching wild game was with snares. Brig didn’t want to rely on that. Either way, sooner or later they would have to walk out of here. It had to be sooner, while they had the strength and before they became weakened by lack of food. There was always the risk that Fletcher might see the smoke from the chimney and come to investigate. The cabin, instead of a shelter, would become a death-trap for him.

By tonight, Jocko would be worried. Tomorrow morning he would start looking for them. If they could reach Jocko or the camp . . . It bothered Brig that he didn’t know where Fletcher was. The hunter had to know that he would make a try for the camp and would have found a vantage point to cover the routes in. Where would that be? Brig studied the terrain in his mind, choosing and rejecting locations and ending up with a handful of potential sites.

Shrugging into his jacket, Brig glanced at Jordanna. She was adding the bark strips to the simmering snow water. His distraction had worked. She had stopped arguing with him and had begun mulling it all over in her mind. She needed this time to think. So did he.