Montana Sky, Page 26

  Stunned, she got to her feet. “I never heard you talk about him like this. I thought you were friends.”

  “I had respect for him as a cattleman. Never said I respected the man.”

  “Then why did you stay on, all these years?”

  He looked at her, shook his head slowly from side to side. “That’s a damn fool question.”

  For me, she thought, and felt both foolish and humbled. Unable to face him, she turned, stared out the window.

  “You taught me to ride.”

  “Somebody had to.” His voice went rusty, so he cleared it. “Before you broke your fool neck climbing on when nobody was looking.”

  “When I fell and broke my arm when I was eight, you and Bess took me to the hospital.”

  “The woman was too flustered to be driving you herself. Likely have wrecked the rig.” Uneasy, he shifted in his chair, drummed his stubby fingers.

  If his wife had lived past their first two years of marriage, he might have had kids of his own. He’d stopped thinking of that, and the lack, because there’d been Willa to tend to.

  “And I ain’t talking about all that. I’m talking now. You gotta back off a little, Will.”

  “There’s so much going on. Ham, I keep seeing that girl, and Pickles. If I let my mind go clear, I see them.”

  “Nothing you can do to change what happened, is there? And nothing you did to make it happen. This bastard, he’s doing what he’s doing ’cause he can.”

  It was too close to what he’d said about her father—it made her shudder. “I don’t want another death on my hands, Ham. I don’t think I could stand it.”

  “Goddamn it, why don’t you listen?” The furious shout made her turn, stare at him. “It’s not on your hands, and you’re a big-headed fool if you think so. What happened happened, and that’s that. This ranch don’t need you to be fussing over every acre of it twenty hours a day, either. It’s about time you tried being a female for a while.”

  Her mouth fell open. Shouting wasn’t his way unless he was riled past patience. And never could she recall him referring to her gender. “Just what does that mean?”

  “When’s the last time you put on a dress and went out to kick up your heels?” he demanded, even though it made him flush to say it. “I’m not counting New Year’s and whatever that thing was you were almost wearing that had the boys spilling drool out their mouths.”

  She laughed at that and, intrigued, slid a hip onto the corner of the desk. “Is that so?”

  “If I’d been your pa, I’d have sent you back upstairs for a proper dress, with your ears ringing, too.” Embarrassed by his outburst, he crushed his hat onto his head. “But that’s done, too. Now I’m saying why don’t you get that McKinnon boy to take you out to a sit-down dinner or a picture show or some such thing instead of you spending every waking hour in a pair of muddy boots? That’s what I’m saying.”

  “And you’ve certainly had a lot to say this afternoon.” Which meant, she reflected, that he’d been storing it up. “Just what makes you think I’d be interested in a sit-down dinner with Ben McKinnon?”

  “A blind man coulda seen the way you two were plastered together pretending to be dancing.” He decided not to mention the fact that at the poker game at Three Rocks the week before, Ben had pumped him dry for information on her. Conversation over five-card stud was as sacrosanct as that in a confessional. “That’s all I have to say about it.”

  “Sure?” she asked sweetly. “No observations on my diet, my hygiene, my social skills?”

  Oh, she’s a sassy one, he thought, and bit back a smile. “You ain’t eating enough to fill a rabbit, but you clean up good enough. Far as I can see, you ain’t got any social skills.” He was pleased to have worked a fresh scowl out of her. “I got work to do.” He started out, then paused. “I hear Stu McKinnon is feeling poorly.”

  “Mr. McKinnon’s ill? What’s wrong with him?”

  “Just a flu bug, but he ain’t feeling up to snuff. Bess made a sweet potato pie. Be nice if you took it over. He’s got a partiality for sweet potato pie, and for you. Be neighborly.”

  “And I could work on my lack of social skills.” She glanced at the desk, the papers, the work. Then looked back at the man who’d taught her everything worth knowing. “All right, Ham. I’ll run over and see him.”

  “You’re a good girl, Will,” he said, and sauntered out.

  H E’D GIVEN HER PLENTY TO THINK ABOUT ON THE DRIVE over, two new men, another two hundred head of cattle. Her own stubborn need to prove herself worthy to a man who had never cared.

  And, perhaps, her lack of sensitivity to a man who had always cared, and had always been there for her.

  Had she been infringing on Ham’s territory the last few months? Probably. That, at least, she could fix. But his words on the murder, however steady and sensible, couldn’t wipe out her sense of responsibility.

  Or her fear.

  She shivered, bumped up the heater in the rig. The road was well plowed, easily navigated. Snow was heaped on the sides so that it was like driving through a white tunnel with white peaks spearing up into a hard blue sky.

  There’d been an avalanche to the northwest that had buried three skiers. And some hunters camped in the high country had gotten caught in a blizzard and had to be brought out by copter and treated for frostbite. A neighboring ranch had lost some of its range cattle to wildcat looking for food. And two hikers climbing in the Bitterroots had been lost.

  And somewhere, despite the brutal nature of winter, was a killer.

  The Big Sky ski area was doing record business. More fortunate hunters claimed game was so plentiful this year that they hardly needed a weapon. Foals were already being dropped, and cattle were growing fat in feedlots and basin pastures.

  Regardless of life and prosperity, death was lurking much too close.

  Lily was flushed with love and planning a spring wedding. Tess had nudged Nate into a weekend away at one of the tony resorts. And Ham wanted her to put on her dancing shoes.

  She was terrified.

  And hit the brakes, hard, to avoid running into an eight-point buck. She swerved, skidded, ended up sideways across the road, as the buck simply lifted his head and watched the show with bored eyes.

  “Oh, you’re a beauty, aren’t you?” Laughing at herself, she rested her head on the steering wheel while her heart made its way slowly out of her throat and back to her chest. It took a fast leap back up when someone tapped on her window.

  She didn’t recognize the face. It was a good one, angelically handsome, framed with curly golden-brown hair under a dung-brown hat. As his lips, accented with a glossy moustache, tipped up in smile, she slid a hand under her seat toward the .38 Ruger.

  “You okay?” he asked when she rolled down the window an inch. “I was behind you, saw you skid. Did you hit your head or anything?”

  “No. I’m fine. Just startled me. I should have been paying more attention.”

  “Big bastard, isn’t he?” Jesse turned his head to watch as the buck walked regally to the side of the road, then leaped over the mound of snow. “Wish I had my thirty-thirty. A rack like that’d go fine on the bunkhouse wall.” He looked back at her, amused to see fear and suspicion in her eyes. “Sure you’re okay, Miz Mercy?”

  “Yes.” She slid her fingers closer to the gun. “Do I know you?”

  “Don’t think so. I’ve seen you around here and there. I’m J C, been working at Three Rocks the past few months.”

  She relaxed a little, but kept the window up. “Oh, the poker ace.”

  He flashed a grin, and it was as formidable a weapon as the Ruger. “Got me a rep, do I? Gotta say it’s a pure pleasure taking your money, indirectly, that is, through your boys. You’re a little pale yet.”

  He wondered what her skin would feel like. She was part Indian, he remembered, and had the look of it. He’d never had a half-breed before. And wouldn’t that just fix Lily’s butt if he went and fucked her sister?
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  “You ought to take a minute to get your breath back. If you hadn’t had good reflexes, I’d be digging you out of the drifts now.”

  “I’m fine, really.” He had gorgeous eyes, she mused. Cold, but beautiful. They shouldn’t have made her insides curl up in defense. “I’m on my way to Three Rocks, as it happens,” she continued, determined to work on those social skills. “I’m told Mr. McKinnon’s under the weather.”

  “Flu. Put him down hard the last couple days, but he’s feeling some better. You’ve had your own problems over to Mercy.”

  “Yes.” She drew back instinctively. “You’d better get back in your rig. It’s too cold to be standing out there.”

  “Wind’s got a bite, all right. Like a healthy woman.” He winked, stepped back. “I’ll follow you in. You be sure to tell old Jim I’m up for a game anytime.”

  “I’ll do that. Thanks for stopping.”

  “My pleasure.” Chuckling to himself, he tipped his hat. “Ma’am.”

  He chuckled out loud when he climbed back into his rig. So that was Lily’s half-breed half sister. He’d bet she would give a man a hard ride. He might have to find out. He hummed all the way into Three Rocks, and when Willa took the turn toward the main house, tooted his horn cheerfully and waved her on.

  Shelly opened the door, with the baby on her shoulder. “Will, what a surprise. Pie!” Her eyes went huge and just a little greedy. “Come in, grab a fork.”

  “It’s for your father-in-law.” Willa held it out of reach. “How’s he feeling?”

  “Better. Driving Sarah crazy. That’s why I’m here instead of home. Trying to give her a hand. Take off your coat, come on back to the kitchen.” She patted the gurgling baby on the back. “Truth is, Will, I’m spooked staying home alone. I know it’s stupid, but I keep thinking someone’s watching me. Watching the house, looking through the windows. I’ve had Zack up three times this week to check locks. We never locked up before.”

  “I know. It’s the same at Mercy.”

  “You haven’t heard any more from the police.”

  “No, nothing helpful.”

  “We won’t talk about it now.” Shelly lowered her voice as they approached the kitchen. “No use getting Sarah upset. Look who I found,” she announced as she swung through the door.

  “Willa.” Sarah put down the potatoes she was peeling for stew, wiped her hands. “How wonderful to see you. Sit down. There’s coffee on.”

  “Pie.” Though she was never quite sure how to respond to the spontaneous affection, Willa smiled when Sarah kissed her cheek. “For the invalid. Bess’s sweet potato.”

  “Maybe that’ll keep him busy and out of my hair. You tell Bess how much I appreciate it. You sit down now, have some cake with that coffee and talk to us. Shelly and I have about talked each other out. I swear winter gets longer and meaner every year.”

  “Beau Radley’s selling out and moving to Arizona.”

  “No.” Sarah pounced on the nibble of gossip like a starving mouse on cheese. “I hadn’t heard that.”

  “Sold to developers. They’re going to put in a resort. Dude ranch. Buffalo.”

  “Oh, my.” Sarah whistled through her teeth as she poured coffee into her company cups. “Won’t Stu have six fits when he hears.”

  “Hears what?” Silver hair flowing, bathrobe comfortably ratty, Stu strolled in. “We got company and nobody calls me?” He winked at Willa, gave her a quick pat on the head. “And pie? We got pie and you leave me up there moldering in bed?”

  “You won’t stay in it long enough to molder. Well, sit then. We’ll have pie instead of cake with coffee.”

  He pulled up a chair, eyed his daughter-in-law. “Going to let me hold my baby yet?”

  “Nope.” Shelly swiveled Abby around. “Not until you’re germ-free. Look but don’t touch.”

  “I’m being run into the ground by women,” he told Willa. “Sneeze a couple of times and you find yourself strapped in bed having pills forced down your throat.”

  “He was running a fever. One-oh-one.” Clucking, Sarah slid pie under his nose. “Eat that and stop complaining. Babies are less trouble when they’re ailing than any grown man I know. I can’t count the number of times I’ve been up and down those stairs in the past three days.”

  Even as she said it, she was cupping his chin, studying his face. “Color’s better,” she murmured, letting her hand linger. “You can have your pie and a visit, but then you go back and take a nap.”

  “See?” Stu gestured with his fork. “She can’t wait until I’m feeling off to start bossing me around.” He brightened considerably when the door opened and Zack came in. “Now we’ll even the odds a bit. Come on in, boy, but don’t think you’re getting any of my pie.”

  “What kind? Hey, Will.” Zack McKinnon was a slimly built man who stopped just shy of lanky. He’d inherited his mother’s wavy hair and his father’s squared-off jaw. His eyes were green, like Ben’s, but dreamier. He was a man who liked to spend his days in the clouds. The minute he was out of coat and hat, he kissed his wife and picked up his daughter.

  “Did you wipe your feet?” his mother demanded.

  “Yes’m. Is that sweet potato?”

  “It’s mine,” Stu said darkly, then nudged the pie closer possessively as the door opened again.

  “The piebald mare’s looking ready to—” Ben spotted Willa and his smile came slow. “Hey, Will.”

  “She brought pie,” Zack said, eyeing it avariciously. “Dad won’t share.”

  “What kind?” Ben dropped into a chair beside Willa and began to play with her hair.

  “Your father’s kind,” she said, and brushed his hand away.

  “Thata girl.” Stu scooped up another forkful, then looked crushed when his wife sliced two more pieces. “I thought I was sick.”

  “You’ll be sick if you eat all this yourself. Give Shelly the baby, Zack, and pour the coffee. Ben, stop fussing with Will and let the girl eat.”

  “Nag, nag, nag,” Stu muttered, then beamed when Willa winked and slid her piece of pie from her plate to his.

  “Stuart McKinnon, shame on you.” Sarah put her hands on her hips as her husband dug in to the second piece.

  “She gave it to me, didn’t she? How are those pretty sisters of yours, Will?”

  “They’re fine. Ah . . .” Neither Lily nor Adam had asked that it be kept secret. In any case, Willa imagined tongues were already starting to wag. “Adam and Lily are engaged. They’re going to be married in June.”

  “A wedding.” Shelly bounced as happily as the baby. “Oh, that’s wonderful.”

  “Adam’s getting married.” Sarah let out a sigh as her eyes went sentimentally moist. “Why, I can remember when he and Ben used to tramp off to the stream with fishing poles.” She sniffed, dabbed her eyes. “We’ll help you with the shower, Willa.”

  “Shower?”

  “The bridal shower,” Shelly said, gearing up. “I can’t wait. They’ll live in that adorable little house of his, won’t they? I wonder what kind of dress she’s looking for. I’ll have to tell her about this wonderful shop in Billings where I found mine. And they have gorgeous bridesmaids’ dresses too. I hope she wants vivid colors for you.”

  Willa set her cup down before she choked. “For me?”

  “I’m sure you and Tess will be her attendants. Both of you want strong colors. Rich blue, dark pink.”

  “Pink?”

  At the desperate look in her eyes, Ben howled. “You’re scaring her bloodless, Shelly. Don’t worry, Will. I’ll look after you. I’m going to be best man.” He toasted her with his coffee. “I just talked to Adam this morning. You beat me to the announcement.”

  With his plate scraped clean, Zack came up for air. “Better let me talk to him. I’ve still got the scars from our wedding.” As Shelly’s eyes narrowed, he grinned. “Remember those monkey suits we had to wear, Ben? Thought I’d strangle before I could say ‘I do.’ ” He bent to his coffee when Shelly smacked the
back of his head. “Of course, I had a lump in my throat when I looked down the aisle and saw this vision coming toward me. The most beautiful sight any man sees in his life.”

  “Good save, son,” Stu commented. “I don’t mind weddings myself, though your mom and I did it the easy way and eloped.”

  “That was only because my father wanted to shoot you. You tell Lily to let us know if there’s anything we can do to help, Will. Just thinking about a wedding makes spring seem closer.”

  “I will. I know she’ll appreciate it. I have to get back.”

  “Oh, don’t go yet.” Shelly reached out to grab her hand. “You’ve hardly been here at all. I can have Zack go down to the house and get my stack of Bride’s magazines and the photo album. It might give Lily some ideas.”

  “I’m sure she’d like to come over herself and huddle with you.” Now the idea of a wedding was making her shoulder blades itch. “I’d stay if I could, but the light’s already going.”