Montana Refuge (12 page)

“And option three is I assign someone else to continue the drive and go with you. I guess I could cancel the whole trip—”

“No, that would mean refunds. No way.”

“If it would solve the problem, of course it’s worth a few dollars. But if the danger lies with someone on this trip, taking them back to the ranch with us isn’t going to help a lot.”

She shook her head. “If those are our options, then I vote for the first one.”

“Good, that’s my choice, too.” He closed the shed door and added, “There’s hardly any night left. Let’s bunk in the chuck wagon and try to catch a little sleep.”

Julie didn’t want to lie that close to him, but their choices were very limited. They’d have to share his bedroll....

She was sure she wouldn’t sleep a wink, not jammed up against Tyler and not after the events of the evening, but the next thing she knew, Tyler was shaking her shoulder. It was predawn and Julie guessed they’d had less than two hours of sleep. Still, she awoke with a start, instantly conscious.

“I need to go make sure everything is good with the herd,” he said against her cheek, “and there was no way to get out of this bag without waking you.”

“That’s okay,” she said, doing her best to cope with the shiver his closeness sent racing down her spine. “It’s probably time for me to start cooking anyway.”

“Do I have to remind you to be careful?” he asked, and just like that, her nerves stretched tight over her bones.

“No,” she said, “though I’m not sure how to guard against the kind of bizarre things that are happening.”

“Just be aware of your surroundings.” He finally extricated himself and leaned down to lend her a hand, but she struggled without taking it. Last night had thrown them together in a nest of false intimacy. She’d fallen back into the role of his woman way too easily. He was taking things for granted and she knew she’d encouraged it, but could anything be more unfair to him than promising something she couldn’t give, namely a happy-ever-after future?

He left after pulling on his boots and she climbed out of the wagon to light the lantern and start building a fire. She piled hot coals on the lid of the Dutch oven to bake the biscuits right as the sun rose in the eastern sky, spreading pale pink shadows across the land.

An hour later, guests started showing up, some moving stiffly due to the unaccustomed hours spent in a saddle the day before. Dr. Marquis walked with a stilted gait and took very small servings of the sausage biscuits and gravy, Denver omelets and fresh fruit that Julie had prepared. While everyone ate, Julie kept her hands busy packing lunches for the trail, but what she was doing underneath her calm exterior was a totally different matter.

One of these perfectly ordinary-looking people had tried to kill her—twice. And it could be any of them because they were all strangers with the exception of the returning couple. So, it could be the mild-mannered Taylors’ son or the doctor, or one of the secretaries or the quiet lawyer with the flamboyant mustache, Red Sanders. Or Meg Peterson, or Nigel and Vincent, the brothers who lived to fly-fish.

Or John Smyth. The most amazing thing about both incidents yesterday was that John hadn’t been around before, during or after and he
always
seemed to be around. She looked for him now and found him seated on a bale of straw next to Mary, Sherry or Terry. Whichever secretary it was, she was talking up a storm, and while John’s head was bent as if he was listening, Julie could tell he wasn’t. His attention seemed to be focused elsewhere and with her own gaze, she followed his line of sight to the pine trees near the river where the incident with the spiders had taken place.

And then his gaze snapped back to her. Caught staring, she produced a smile and so did he.

People started scraping their refuse into the waste barrel and depositing their plates and silverware in the dish tubs. Julie couldn’t help but notice Dr. Marquis had hardly touched his food. “Sir, is there something else I could prepare for you to eat?” she asked as he slipped his plate into the sudsy dishwater.

“No, no, your meal was delicious,” he said.

“I just can’t help but notice how little of it you ate. I’d be happy to fix anything you like as long as we have it.”

“Please don’t worry about it,” he said, pausing and staring at her as though gauging whether to explain. “The truth is,” he said at last with a softer voice, “I had gastric bypass surgery a while back. I just fill up really fast. It has nothing to do with your cooking.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Julie said.

“I’d just as soon you not mention this to anyone else,” he added.

“Of course I won’t. You let me know if there’s something you crave, okay?”

“I will.”

Tyler and a couple of the wranglers who had missed eating with the others rode back into camp a bit later as Julie washed the dishes. They kept downwind so as not to send any dirt drifting with the gentle breeze to compromise the food. Julie’s gaze fastened on Tyler as he dismounted Yukon. He looked like something off the cover of a romance novel or a book about the Old West. In fact, framed as he was by other cowboys and Mother Nature, he made a timeless image, evoking the past like a print out of an old magazine.

After delivering their bedrolls to the wagon for transport to the next camp, many of the guests had left with the first group of wranglers and were now occupied in the chore of rounding up the animals. Julie needed to be long gone to stay in front of the herd.

Tyler strode over to her, questions burning in his eyes. “Nothing has happened, everything is as normal as can be,” she said, making sure her voice was soft. “Anyway, I made sandwiches out of the biscuits and sausage and eggs so you can take them with you if need be.”

“We have time to sit down for a few minutes,” he said as he accepted the platter of individually wrapped warm sandwiches she’d prepared. “Have you eaten?” he added.

“I had one of those,” she said gesturing at the platter. “They’re pretty good if I do say so myself.”

He and the others helped themselves to coffee and fruit as she kept washing dishes. Andy was the first to finish his meal and once again filled his thermos from the almost-depleted urn. Then he doused the fires. Soon the other men had finished, and remounting, rode back to the herd. Tyler stopped first to stare into Julie’s eyes.

“Be careful today,” he said.

“Will do.”

“See you in a few hours.”

She nodded, alarmed when she wanted to pull him back or go with him—anything but be alone. The illusion of safety that came with his presence was definitely something she needed to fight, so she looked away from his retreating form and put away the last of the supplies.

During this time, Andy had retrieved Ned and Gertie and put them back in their harnesses. As Julie stowed the last pot in the boot and made sure all the latches were secured, he came around the wagon. “You want to drive the team out of here or shall I?” he asked.

“I’ll take us as far as the river, then she’s all yours,” Julie said. “Do you know where we’re crossing?”

“Yeah. ’Bout five or six miles upstream.”

“At the fork near the split tree?”

“That’s right. Okay, missy, up you go.” He gave her a hand, then lowered his voice even though there wasn’t anyone else around. “Boss told me what’s up,” he said. “No one’s going to get past me and Shasta to hurt you. You can count on that.”

She flashed him a grateful smile that she hoped showed faith, but the truth was she had the feeling they were dealing with a would-be killer who was determined she wouldn’t live through the day.

And she didn’t know why....

Chapter Nine

The ride along the river was an easy one and Julie used it to reacquaint herself with the feel of guiding the team. Andy rode behind the wagon today as though keeping watch in case someone was following them.

Julie felt safe for the moment knowing whoever was behind all these incidents had to be riding with the herd—unless there was a wild card at work in the form of a would-be killer stalking along on their own agenda. That person could be waiting up ahead for all she knew. On the other hand, the trail was far enough away from the river to reduce vegetation and that meant her line of sight was unimpaired.

Unless this person was hiding behind a rock with a high-powered rifle with a telescopic scope... It was impossible not to feel like there was a target on her forehead.

And yet, it occurred to her that all the incidents had something in common in that they were all meant to appear like an accident. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that whoever had planted the spiders had been watching from somewhere. It was pretty suspicious the way the evidence had disappeared when she’d run to the river.

It would be a lot more efficient to just shoot her or stick a knife between her ribs, but those means would announce murder. That meant her death was meant to seem accidental, the result of a foiled purse thief at a bus stop, a stray arrow or a run-in with poisonous spiders.

The trail would soon begin the descent toward the river, so Julie pulled on the reins and stopped the wagon. Ned whinnied and tossed his big head, while Gertie sniffed at the branch of a tree.

Andy once again tethered his horse’s halter to the back of the wagon. He grabbed his shotgun out of its sheath and his trusty thermos and came around to climb into the wagon, stowing the shotgun beneath the seat.

He took the time to unscrew his thermos and pour himself a cup. Julie once again declined to join him, wishing she was a bigger fan of coffee because there was a chill to the morning that made her pull her denim jacket closer around her body. A jolt of caffeine couldn’t help but chase away some of the latent fatigue that made the insides of her eyelids scratchy, but one look at the black brew Andy was sipping like champagne chased the temptation away.

The river was wide at this point, fanning out and running in braided rivulets separated by islands of gravel. Julie could see some white water, but it was downstream a ways where the river must get deeper as the various channels merged once again.

“Ain’t much more than two-feet deep across here, but as cold as hell is hot. Melting snow, you know.”

Julie recalled the dip in the river the night before—technically, earlier that day—and shivered. He was right. It was cold.

He took another swig of coffee, draining the cup and handing it to Julie so he could use both hands to take the team down a deeply rutted slope to the river beach. She twisted the cap on the thermos and wedged it on the seat between them.

“Had us some warm days this spring,” Andy said, rubbing his eyes with one fist. “Looks like there’s been...been some more melting...water looks, you know...a little rougher than it did in May. Deeper, too.”

“Is it safe?” she asked as she held on to the seat.

“Might be swift is all,” he said. “Might get wet...”

Julie heard the effort it took for Andy to speak. He must be concentrating like mad on communicating directions via signals with the reins exactly what he wanted the team to do. She found entering the river extremely unnerving as the wagon swayed from side to side.

“Gettin’...a...little tumbly,” Andy said, and added, “...mean, rocky...might roll...some...if we mit, hit, a thing...a dent...a...you know...gutter...with the treel...or a...or a...bole.”

Julie looked at him, alarmed by the sound of his voice, the way he grasped for words, words that made no sense. She found his head bent forward until his chin rested on his collarbone, his eyes half-closed. She shook his arm. “Andy! What’s wrong?”

His head snapped back and he looked up at her, blinking, his gaze unfocused. “Don’t feel...” he stammered, and took off his hat. It immediately blew out of his hand but he didn’t seem to notice.

Julie attempted to take the reins from Andy, but he wouldn’t release them even though he’d slumped against her arm. “Andy, let me have the reins,” she said, prying at his fingers. She looked over the side of the wagon, at the rushing water.

The reins suddenly grew slack in Andy’s hands and the horses seemed to falter with the lack of direction. She reached out to take control. Andy stood abruptly and Julie grabbed the hem of his jacket, afraid he was going to tumble overboard. He was unsteady on his feet and stumbled back to a sitting position, hitting the seat hard, sliding forward and landing on top of the reins Julie now held. That tightened the bits in the horses’ mouths. Ned and Gertie lurched forward as though confused. Julie, still fighting to get Andy’s deadweight off the reins and keep him from going over the front of the wagon, fell sideways with the bumpy movement, hitting the edge of the seat. She grabbed for a handhold, but the only thing she could find was the thermos, which didn’t help.

Andy groaned and apparently tried to rouse himself as the horses, apparently fed up with the mixed signals, bolted for the other shore. Andy’s shifting body was the final straw for Julie’s delicate balance and she tripped over his torso, falling against the seat. She heard the rip of cloth and then she was falling again until she hit the water with a splash.

The wagon and horses were suddenly gone, the world reduced to two or three feet of icy-cold water. Although the current instantly swept her away, Julie wasn’t too concerned. All she needed to do was grab on to the rocks on the bottom of the river to stop her momentum and stand up....

But she couldn’t get a grip on the rocks, they were too covered with moss and slime and her hands slipped from their rounded surfaces. The current pushed her downstream, the river growing deeper as it went, faster, too, as the rivulets merged. Struggling to keep her head above the surface, she fought to get her legs down under her so she could stand, but she never stayed in one spot long enough to accomplish that. She swam toward the shore, but she was going very fast now and when she reached out to grab low-lying branches, the current swept her past, ripping leaves from her cold hands before she could get a good grip.

A log arching out over the water appeared up ahead. She did her best to position herself to grab it with one arm. She didn’t see the broken spur extending straight out from the log until it grazed her face, almost poking out her eye. She lost the branch and was sucked under the water again. For a second, she wasn’t sure which way was up. It was like being stuck inside a giant washing machine.