Lone Rider (9 page)

“Have you ridden all of these horses?” she had asked.

It had seemed like an odd thing for her to say. Most girls said things like “I love horses” or “Would you show me how to ride one?” Things he'd heard many times before.

He'd looked at the horses he'd released into the corral and laughed. “Yep, I think I
have
ridden them all.” They took only the gentlest of horses to Yellowstone for the tourists to ride, so these had been around the ranch for some time.

“Which is your favorite? Wait. Let me guess.” She seemed to study the horses as they milled around the corral, her gaze so intent he'd wanted to laugh again.

“That one!” she'd finally said excitedly. “What's her name?”

“What makes you think that horse is a mare?”

She'd smiled at him. “I'm right. She's your favorite, isn't she?”

Sarah had chosen a palomino mare named Sunny, a mare who just happened to be one of his favorites. He'd given Sarah another look. It wasn't just because she was flirting with him. He had time to kill. He didn't have to be back to the ranch until morning.

“You must be psychic,” he'd said as he joined her at the corral fence.

They'd got to talking, and the next thing he knew, he'd asked her to the movie in Gardiner. Had it been her idea? He couldn't remember. She could have asked what was showing and said she was dying to see it. He couldn't be sure.

He frowned. She'd definitely come on to him.

“Well?” Angelina asked.

“Well what?”

“Was she the instigator?”

“What if she was?” he demanded. “What does that prove?”

“That she knew who you were, knew you were bringing horses up that day, knew you were the son of Senator B. D. Hamilton.”

He shook his head. He was often confused lately by what Angelina was talking about. “Even if all of that were true, what possible difference could it make now?”

“Admit it. She came after you. She must have had a reason.”

“Think about what you're saying, Angelina. What? Did she trick me into marrying her, hoodwink me into impregnating her with six daughters so she could try to kill herself and disappear later for twenty-two years?”

“There has to be a reason for all of this,” Angelina said stubbornly.

He couldn't see that there was a reason for anything and said as much. “You're going to drive yourself crazy looking for sense in something that makes no sense.”

“That's what she wants you think,” Angelina said cryptically. “You wait and see. Sarah knows exactly what she's doing.”

* * *

J
ACE
HAD
AWAKENED
before the crack of dawn. The night had been long. He'd dozed, but his sleep hadn't been restful. All night, his senses had been on alert to any sound other than the usual forest hum.

He'd had a dream, one of those crazy ones that hadn't made any sense and yet had been disturbing. It had been about the night his parents had died. Even with the light of day, he could still feel a cloying darkness, imagine the smell of the smoke rising up from the wrecked plane and hear the heart-rending cries of his little sister.

Unsettled by the nightmare, he'd eaten some jerky and saddled up, anxious to find Bo Hamilton and put his waking nightmare to rest.

Riding to a high ridge, he tried his cell phone. He wanted to see if Bo had returned. He got a few bars and punched in Senator Buckmaster Hamilton's number.

The man answered on the second ring. “Have you found her?”

“Not yet.” He'd hoped that somehow Bo had surprised him and found her way back to the ranch. He knew it was wishful thinking that she might have returned on her own. He'd picked up her horse's tracks again this morning. They were headed up the ridgeline and deeper into the Crazies.

“I'd hoped...” Jace could hear the distress in the older man's voice.

“I'm on her trail, headed deeper into the mountains.” Jace heard nothing but silence and looked down to see that he'd lost the senator. He tried again but couldn't get enough service for the call to go through this time.

He had wanted to ask whether Bo had been seeing someone. It could explain why the only other tracks he'd found were a man-size boot print that had crossed her path several times. He knew that was a long shot. The two probably weren't connected.

The tracks bothered him. He should have seen other horseshoe prints. If Bo were meeting someone, wouldn't the man be on horseback? Had something happened to his horse? Or was it a backpacker? Most backpackers didn't wear cowboy boots with worn soles, though.

It was almost as if the man had been tracking Bo on foot.

As he looked ahead into the shadowy, dense pines, he worried even more about who was up on this mountain with him and Bo.

CHAPTER TEN

S
ARAH
FELT
AT
loose ends. She hadn't seen Buck for days now. She wanted to know how her daughters were doing. If she didn't get out of this cabin, she would go stir-crazy.

Russell had left last night, saying he had some business to take care of at his ranch but he'd check in later with her today. She knew calling Buck, the man she still considered her husband, was probably a mistake. Russell didn't think she could trust Buck.

“Did I catch you at a bad time?” she asked when he answered.

“No. In fact, I was just thinking about you,” Buck said. “I have something for you.”

“Buck, I don't need—”

“Please, let me do this. Is there any way I can see you?”

Sarah hesitated. Russell would be furious with her, but he didn't understand that in her mind, Buck was her loving husband with whom she'd had six children. Those missing years were just that: missing.

“I could give you the directions to where I'm staying,” she said. “Just be careful so no one from the press—”

“I will.”

Thirty minutes later, he drove up in front of the cabin. Every time she saw him, she felt those old emotions roiling inside her. This was her husband. This was the man she loved.

But then she would hear Russell's voice in her head.
If you loved him so much, why would you have driven your car into the Yellowstone River in the middle of winter in an attempt to kill yourself? Then, when that failed, why would you leave for twenty-two years?

That was the question, wasn't it? Maybe that was what she hoped to find out by seeing Buck. But as she watched him climb out of his SUV, she reminded herself that this man was married to someone else now and on his way to the White House. A whole lot had changed since that night she plunged into the Yellowstone.

“So this is where Murdock's been keeping you,” Buck said and shook his head. “Did he mention that I want you to move onto the ranch?”

She nodded.

“And?”

Not wanting to argue with Buck for the short time they would have together, she said, “I'm thinking about it.”

That seemed to appease him. He relaxed a little, reminding her of the old Buck Hamilton she'd fallen in love with.

“I want you to have this,” he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the handgun.

Sarah stared at the .22 pistol as Buck laid it on the table. From his other pocket he pulled out a cell phone.

“I want you to be protected. I also want you to be able to call me anytime—and not with Russell's phone.”

She didn't want him going off about Russell, so she asked, “Protected from
what
?” She still hadn't touched the gun, could barely look at it.

“I don't know.
Whatever.
” He waved an arm through the air impatiently. “Until I'm around to make sure you're all right...”

“
Until?
Are you planning to make some changes in your life that I don't know about?”

He dropped his arm and looked at her. “You know I spend most of my time in Washington as it is, and now with this damned campaign...” He rubbed a hand over his face. “I hate not knowing where you are, what's happening with you or if you need...anything.” He took a breath and let it out slowly. “This is just so damned confusing.”

“It seems pretty simple to me. You're married to another woman. Angelina is your concern now. Not me.”

Buck swore. “You know it's not that damned simple.” His eyes filled with sadness. “I worry about you.”

“You just don't like me being around Russell.”

He seemed to chew at the inside of his cheek for a moment. She almost smiled because she
did
know this man. He was fighting to keep from saying anything derogatory about Russell Murdock. When he had before, she'd defended Russell, which only angered Buck more.

“Hell, I've always liked the man,” he said now. “Until he became involved with my wife.”

“Russell and I are not
involved
. And I'm not your wife.”

“You know what I mean,” Buck said, studying her openly as if trying to decide for himself how involved she was with Russell. Wouldn't he have a fit if he knew that Russell had mentioned marriage? Well, what was good for the goose was good for the gander, she thought, surprised that she was angry at Buck for remarrying.

She knew that wasn't fair. She'd left Buck—not the other way around.

“I'll feel better if I know you at least have a cell phone of your own and a weapon, should you need one,” he said.

She looked down at the .22, knowing what it would mean to him if she took it. He'd feel he'd done something, and Buck couldn't stand feeling otherwise.

The small gun was nothing more than a peashooter. She wanted to laugh. But she also wanted to cry as she picked up the small, useless thing. It felt light and ridiculous in her hand. She felt an aching longing for something heavy and powerful as she quickly put it back down and hugged herself against the memory of a much more powerful weapon in her hands.

“Sarah—”

“So you think I need a gun? That's why you had to see me.” She couldn't help feeling disappointed. What had she hoped he would say when he got here? “You're assuming I know what to do with a weapon?”

“I know you never showed an interest in guns.”

She shook her head, wondering why he didn't remember that she'd wanted nothing to do with any kind of weapon. She hadn't even wanted them in the house, not with six small children.

“I thought you might have learned to shoot sometime since...” He let that thought fall away, but his gaze searched hers. He was wondering again about those years she'd been missing. Everyone wanted to know where she'd been and what she'd being doing. Herself included.

Buck suggested they go outside and do a little target practice. He found some rusted cans and set them up on the fence. Then he patiently walked her through how to use the weapon. As he droned on, she let her mind wander. When he finally handed her the .22 pistol, she turned out to be an excellent shot. The only person surprised was Buck.

* * *

D
EPUTY
B
ENTLEY
J
AMISON
, a former New York City homicide detective, studied the scrap of paper before looking up at his boss. “Sometimes a tattoo is just a tattoo.”

“Not this time,” Frank said as he sat back in his chair. He'd called Jamison in because the man had seen more tattoos than any of his other deputies. He'd hoped that Jamison might have recognized it. “It isn't like any tattoo I've ever seen. Is it possible it's a jailhouse tattoo?”

“If it's as crudely done as this drawing, it's possible. I'd have to see it to tell you.”

“Seeing it could be a problem. Who gets their butt cheek tattooed?”

The deputy laughed. “More than you might think.”

“I should have added, a woman fifty-some years old?” Frank said.

“She could have had that tattoo since she was a teenager. Have you asked her about it? Or Buckmaster. He'd know if she had it before she disappeared.”

He hadn't. “I might ask the senator. He's in town right now. He's going to wonder why I want to know, though.”

“You haven't told him about the way his first wife returned from the grave?”

“That she parachuted down from a low-flying plane wearing a paratrooper's chute as if the whole thing had been some kind of special ops undercover operation? No. He never asked. He's probably like everyone else who thought she'd been dropped beside the road after maybe hitchhiking back here. But maybe it's time I did tell the senator,” the sheriff said with a sigh as he rose from his chair. “He needs to know that Sarah might not be the woman he married anymore. Also, I want to see his face when I tell him in case he knows more about this than I do. I'll question him about the tattoo, as well.”

“Are you going to share your suspicions?” Jamison asked.

“I would think he'd have his own suspicions when he hears what I have to tell him, wouldn't you? Meanwhile, I've talked to search and rescue. They're going to do a flyover tomorrow and see if they can find Bo Hamilton. Given what I know about why she left when she did, I'm not as concerned that something has happened to her. I think she might not
want
to be found.”

* * *

T
HE
BRIGHT
SUN
was blinding. It speared down through the trees to pierce Bo with an intensity that made her head ache. A thin trail of smoke rose from the fire pit, the smell irritating her throat and eyes.

She blinked as she fought to get her wits about her. Now that breakfast was over, they would be traveling farther north into the mountains. All her instincts told her that she had to find a way to escape.

It was dangerous to even try. Just the thought made her pulse pound in her ears and her body go weak with fear. He wanted her to like him. Every time she met his gaze, she saw a hopefulness that would have broken her heart under any other circumstances.

He wanted so desperately to trust her—and yet he didn't. She had seen him wavering, had felt that knife edge of control over his rage and violence, and knew that if she failed, he would kill her. Eventually. Her instincts told her that he would make her pay in the worst possible ways until then.

She pushed that thought out of her mind, because if she didn't get away from him, it was inevitable that he would attack her. She could hold him off for only so long. Eventually he would realize that this idea of his of the two of them living up here together was just a stupid dream on his part. That alone would burn him and make him furious. That alone could get her killed.

After he'd taped her wrists together, he pulled her to her feet by one arm. She saw that he'd saddled her horse this morning before she'd woken up. Her heart began to pound so hard she thought it would bruise her ribs as he led her over to her horse.

Her mind raced as she ordered her limbs not to shake. She held her head high and desperately tried to keep her expression neutral. She could feel him watching her. The man was no fool. He had to know that once she was on the horse, she would try to get away. It was her only chance.

A plan had been stirring in her brain. It wasn't a great one because it depended on Ray giving her the opportunity she needed. Since her wrists were bound, she would have to kick him. Ideally, he would step far enough away that she could put a boot to his head. Her only other choice was to kick him hard enough in the chest or stomach to at least knock the air out of him and give her those precious seconds she needed to get away.

Would the kick be enough of a surprise that he would drop the reins? It had to be. She must make the kick count. Then if she could spur her horse and get away quickly enough, he wouldn't be able to catch her. But riding hard through these trees wouldn't be easy. She reminded herself again at how big he was. How determined. How strong he was. He would come after her.

For a moment, she questioned whether she could do this. Whether she should. Maybe if she waited for a better opportunity...

She couldn't chance that
he
could wait. Nor that he would give her another opportunity. She'd caught him staring at her more and more, the hunger in his eyes growing. He'd said he'd been up here for weeks, alone, and now he had her.

Ray dragged her over to her horse, and she realized he wouldn't have to help her into the saddle. Even with her wrists bound together, she could pull herself up. Maybe she should kick back at him when she was already in motion. But wouldn't he expect that?

As he untied the reins from the tree limb, he let go of her. She started to reach for the saddle horn when she saw him pick up the rope. He dropped a loop of the sisal over her head and, tightening it around her neck like a noose, he jerked her back against him, his arm coming across her chest, crushing her breasts.

He leaned down next to her ear. She felt his hot breath on her neck just above the spot where the rope was cutting off her air. “Yer mine. Ya accept that and I'll treat ya right. But if ya don't, I'll do things to ya to make ya wish ya were dead.”

* * *

B
UCKMASTER
WAS
TRYING
to keep his mind off Bo as he watched the clock. The sheriff had said he would see about sending a search and rescue plane out. Shouldn't he have heard something by now?

He reflected on his visit with Sarah. He'd been surprised when she'd told him where she was staying and allowed him to come up to the cabin. He knew it was only because Russell Murdock wasn't around. Which meant that he was right about Russell trying to control her. Control all of them, he thought, remembering his call a few days ago.

When he'd called, Russell had answered Sarah's cell phone.

“It's ridiculous that I don't even know where my own wife is,” Buckmaster had snapped. “And now you're answering her phone?”

“Sarah isn't your
wife
.”

“Just let me talk to her.”

“She isn't here right now. Do you want to leave a message?”

“If this is your attempt to keep her from me—”

“If you knew where she was staying, you'd just harass and bully her like you do everyone,” Russell had said with a calm that had made Buckmaster grit his teeth.

“Fine.” But it had been far from fine. “Sarah doesn't need protecting from me.”

Russell had answered with an insulting silence.

“Damn it, Murdock.”

“You should thank me for making sure she is safe,” Russell had said.

But is she safe from you?
Buckmaster had wanted to ask, but he had held his tongue. “I have something for her.”