Montana Sky, Page 42

  “Oh, I stopped feeling that an hour ago.” But she stretched up just to check. No, her butt was as dead as a numbed tooth. “I’ve never been up this high before. It’s gorgeous.”

  “There’s a spot just up ahead. You look out thataway”—he gestured—“it’s a picture.”

  “How long have you been doing this, Jim? Taking the herd up in the spring?”

  “For Mercy? Shit, about fifteen years, give or take.” He winked again, saw Willa riding up, and knew she’d give him the look that meant he was lollygagging. “Keeps me outta pool halls and away from wild women.” He trotted back to point, leaving Tess chuckling.

  “Don’t flirt with a cowboy on a drive,” Willa told her.

  “We were having a short, civilized conversation. When I flirt I—oh, oh, my God.” Tess reined in her horse, looked out in the direction Jim had just indicated. Understanding, Willa stopped behind her.

  “Nice view.”

  “It’s like a painting,” Tess whispered. “It doesn’t seem real.” It couldn’t be real, the way the colors and shapes, the size and scope all swept together.

  The peaks shot up against the sky, tumbled down to a wide, silvery canyon where a river ran blue and trees grew thick and green. Somewhere along the way, it seemed miles to Tess, the river took a curve and vanished into rock. But before it vanished it spewed white, crashed over rock, then settled to serene.

  A hawk circled in the distance, arching around and around that curving river, amid rugged rocks, under spearing silver peaks, above green trees.

  “Good fishing there.” Willa leaned on her saddle horn. “People come from all over hell and back to fly-fish in this river. Me, I’m not big on it, but it’s a sight to see. The way the lines dance and whip through the air, and land with barely a sound or a ripple. Farther down, around the curve, there’s some wild white water. People plunk themselves in rubber rafts and have a high old time riding it. I’ll stick with horses.”

  “Yeah.” But Tess wondered what it would be like. It surprised her that she wondered not in cool writer’s fashion but in hot, thrilling anticipation of what it would feel like to chase that river, to fly down it.

  “It’ll be here when we come back.” Willa turned her horse. “Montana’s funny that way. It mostly stays put. Come on, we’re falling behind.”

  “All right.” Tess carried that view with her, along with countless others, as they drove the herd on.

  The air cooled to a snap, and patches of snow appeared under the trees, around rocks. And still there were flowers, the sprawl of mountain clematis, the sassy purple of wild delphinium. A meadowlark sang a spring song.

  When they stopped to rest the horses and grab a quick lunch, jackets came out of saddlebags.

  “For Christ’s sake, don’t tie your horse.” With another roll of the eyes for the greenhorn, Willa took the reins from Tess, gave her mount an easy slap that sent it trotting away.

  “What the hell did you do?” Tess took two running steps before she realized the horse would outdistance her. “Now what am I supposed to do? Walk?”

  “Eat.” Willa shoved a sandwich in her face.

  “Oh, fine, just fine. I’ll have a little roast beef while my horse goes trotting back home.”

  “He’s not going far. You can’t go tying your horse up around here, then wandering off to sit under a tree and have your lunch.” Then she grinned as she spotted Ben riding up. “Hey, McKinnon, haven’t you got enough to do without looking for handouts?”

  “Thought there might be an extra sandwich.” He slid off his horse, gave it the same absent pat as Willa had given Tess’s. Speechless, Tess watched his mount mosey off.

  “What are you all crazy? There won’t be a horse left to ride at this rate.”

  Ben took the sandwich Tess held, bit into it, and winked at Willa. “She try to tie hers up?”

  “Yep. Tenderfoot.”

  “You don’t tie horses up in high country,” he said between bites. “Cats. Bears.”

  “What are you—cats?” Eyes popping, Tess spun around in a circle, trying to look everywhere at once. “You mean mountain lions? Bears?”

  “Predators.” Willa took what was left of the sandwich from Ben, finished it off. “A horse hasn’t got a chance if it’s tethered. How far back’s your herd, Ben?”

  “About a quarter mile.”

  “But—” Tess thought of her rifle that was still in her saddle holster. “What chance have we got?”

  “Oh, fair to middling,” Ben drawled, and Willa roared with laughter.

  “Lily’s probably got that coffee hot by now.”

  He tugged Willa’s hat over her eyes. “How do you think I found you, kid? I followed the scent.”

  Tess stood frozen to the spot as they wandered toward the little campfire where Lily heated the pot. At a faint rustle in the brush behind her she sprinted forward like a runner off the mark. “Wait. Wait for me.”

  “Your sister’s got a powerful love for coffee,” Ben commented as Tess barreled by.

  “You should have seen her face when I set her horse loose. It was worth bringing her along just for that.”

  “Everything all right otherwise?”

  “Quiet.” She slowed her pace. “Normal. Or as quiet and normal as you’d expect with wedding plans gearing up.”

  “I wouldn’t like to see anything spoil that.”

  “Nothing’s going to.” She stopped completely now, turned her back on the group by the fire so that she faced only Ben. “I talked to the police again,” she said quietly. “They’re investigating my men. Every one of them.”

  “Mine too. It’s necessary, Willa.”

  “I know it. I left Ham back, and it worries me, not knowing. He and Bess, Wood’s two boys. As far as it goes, Ben, they’re alone.”

  “Ham can handle himself, so can Bess if it comes to that. And nobody’s going to hurt those kids, Will.”

  “I wouldn’t have thought so before. Now I just don’t know. I wanted Nell to take them, go stay with her sister for a while. She won’t leave Wood. Of course if it is Wood, then she and the boys are probably safe.”

  Playing back her own words in her head, Willa blew out a breath. “I can’t believe what I think sometimes, Ben. If it’s Wood, if it’s Jim, if it’s Billy. Or one of your men. I’ve known most of them my whole life. And then I think, maybe Jesse Cooke was the last of it. Maybe it’ll stop with him and we won’t have to deal with it anymore. Thinking that way’s like shoving Pickles and that girl aside.”

  “Thinking that way’s human.” He touched her cheek.

  “I’ve wondered if it might stop with Cooke.”

  “But you don’t believe it.”

  “No, I don’t believe it.”

  “Is that why you’re here? Is that why you’re driving your herd up the same day I’m driving mine?”

  He’d been afraid it hadn’t been a very subtle move, and now he rubbed a hand over the scar on his chin. “You could say I’ve got an investment in you. I look after what’s mine.”

  Her brows rose. “I’m not yours, Ben.”

  He bent down, gave her a quick, casual kiss. “Look again,” he suggested, and went after his coffee.

  TWENTY-SIX

  F ROM TESS’S JOURNAL:

  Driving cattle is in no way similar to driving a Mercedes 450 SL—which is a little something I believe I’ll treat myself to when I get back to the bright lights and big city.

  Driving cattle is an adventure perhaps akin to whizzing along the highway in a spiffy sports car. You go places, you see things, and the wind is in your hair. But it is also a painful business.

  My butt is so sore I’ve got to sit on a pillow to write. I suppose, all in all, it was worth it. The Rockies are a grabber, absolutely. Even finding snow underfoot this late in the year couldn’t spoil it. The air’s different in high country. Purer is the closest I can come to describing it. It’s like the clearest of spring waters in a fine crystal glass.

  We stopp
ed on a rocky plateau and I swear I thought I could see all the way to Nate’s ranch.

  It made me miss him a little—well, more than a little. An odd feeling. I can’t recall ever missing a man before. Sex, sure, but that’s a different matter.

  In any case, the cattle seem to drive themselves for the most part, trudging along with only the occasional complaint. Adam says it’s because many of them have made the trip before and know the drill, and the others just tag along. Still, they make quite a noise with all that clopping and mooing, and the occasional maverick has to be rounded up.

  I watched Will rope a cow and I was impressed. The woman looks more natural on horseback than she does on her own two feet. I’d have to say regal, though I’d never say it to her. Her head’s quite big enough as it is. She’s a natural boss, and I’d have to admit that’s a necessary attribute in her position. She works like a stevedore, again admirable, but I don’t appreciate her cracking the whip in my direction.

  I suspect we meandered a bit on our way up. I have to give her credit for that as well. I have no doubt she lengthened the route for my and Lily’s benefit. It was quite a trip. We saw elk and mule deer, moose, bighorn sheep, and huge, gorgeous birds.

  I did not see a bear. I am in no way disappointed by this.

  Lily took rolls of pictures. She’s recovered so completely you could almost forget all the horror that happened to her. Almost. I think of scales when I think of Lily, with her balancing tragedy and happiness on either end. She’s found a way to weight down that happiness end. I admire that, too.

  But forgetting all the way just isn’t possible. Beneath the tough, focused exterior, Will is a bundle of nerves. We’ve all homed in on the wedding, all seem determined to have nothing spoil it. But there’s worry here. It’s in the air.

  On another front, I’m whipping through the rewrites on my script. Ira’s very pleased with the deal, and the progress. I expect to be inundated with meetings when I get back to LA in the fall. And I finally decided to tell him about the book. He was pretty jazzed, which surprised me, so I shot off the first couple chapters to him to give him a taste. We’ll see.

  At the moment, I’m squeezing in writing time between wedding preparations. The shower’s coming up, and we’re all pretending Lily doesn’t know we’re planning one. Should be a hoot.

  “S O WHAT ARE YOU MEN PLANNING FOR THE BACHELOR party?” Tess sat on the corral fence at Nate’s and watched him take a yearling through his paces.

  “Something dignified, of course.”

  “How many strippers?”

  “Three. Any more isn’t dignified.” He reined in, backed the yearling up, then squeezed gently with his knees. The yearling broke into an easy trot. “That’s the way. Smart boy.”

  Look at him, Tess thought, all lanky and lean with his hat pulled low and those long, narrow hands as sexy as a concert pianist’s.

  He quite literally made her mouth water. “I ever tell you how good you look on a horse, Lawyer Torrence?”

  “A time or two.” It still made heat crawl up his neck. “But you can tell me again.”

  “You look good. When am I going to see you in court?”

  Surprised, he circled the horse. “Didn’t know you wanted to.”

  Neither had she. “Well, I do. I like looking at you in your lawyer suit, all sober and serious. I like looking at you.”

  He slid off, looped the reins around the rail, and began to uncinch the saddle. “Hasn’t been much time for looking or anything else just lately, has there?”

  “Busy time. Only ten days until the wedding, and Lily’s parents are coming in tomorrow. After things settle, maybe you can take me into town, let me watch you ride the court. Then . . . we could stay in a hotel for the night and play.” She ran her tongue around her teeth. “Wanna play with me, Nate?”

  “Your rules or mine?”

  “No rules at all.” With a laugh, she hopped off the fence and grabbed him into a hot, lengthy kiss. “I’ve missed you.”

  “Have you?” That was progress he hadn’t expected quite so soon. “That’s nice.”

  She glanced toward the house, thought of bed. “I don’t suppose we could . . .”

  “I don’t think Maria could stand the shock of that, middle of the day and all. Maybe you could stay the night.”

  “Mmm. Wish I could, but I’m already AWOL. And I don’t like to stay away long, after what happened.”

  His eyes went cold as he turned to lift the saddle off the yearling. “I wish I’d been there sooner that night, to back Adam up.”

  “It wouldn’t have mattered. There was nothing Adam or Will could do to stop it. Nothing you could’ve done if you’d been there.”

  “Maybe not.” But he’d had some bad moments thinking of it, imagining it. Wondering what he would have done if it had been Tess with a gun at her head. Because the light had gone out of her eyes as well, he moved on impulse and swung up on the horse’s bare back. “Come on, take a ride with me.”

  “Without a saddle?” She blinked, then laughed and stepped back. “I don’t think so. I like having the horn to grab onto.”

  “Tenderfoot.” He held out a hand. “Come on. You can grab me.”

  Intrigued but wary, Tess eyed the horse. “He’s awfully big for a yearling.”

  “Just a baby and anxious to please.” Nate cocked his head and waited for her to take the offered hand.

  “All right. But I really hate falling off.” She let him grip her hand and with little grace clambered on behind him. “Different,” she decided, but found a definite advantage in being able to snuggle close behind Nate, her arms circling his waist. “Sexy. Adam rides bareback quite a lot. He looks like a god.”

  Nate chuckled, clucked the horse into a walk. “Puts you more in tune with your mount.”

  It also, Tess realized when they slid into a trot, put her more in tune with her lust. And when they smoothed out into a gallop she was grinning like a fool. “This is great. More.”

  “That’s what you always say.” He circled the corral again, enjoying the sensation of those firm, generous breasts pressed into his back. His eyes crossed when she slid her hands down below his belt.

  “Figured as much,” she said, when she found him hard. “Ever do it on horseback?”

  “Nope.” The idea provided a fascinating visual—Tess laid back in front of him on the horse’s neck, her legs wrapped tight around his waist as they mated to the rhythm of the horse. “We’d break our necks when he caught the scent of sex and bucked us off.”

  “I’m ready to risk it. I really want you, Nate.”

  He stopped, steadied the horse, then turning, hauled her in front of him with a great deal of gasping and groping. “No.” He could barely get the word out of his busy mouth as her fingers zoomed in on his belt buckle. “This’ll have to hold us for now. Just hold on to me, Tess. Just hold on and let me kiss you awhile.”

  She would have been reckless, but he held her close, pinning her arms to her sides as he assaulted her mouth. Her hat fell off, landed in the dirt, and her heart went wild, the echoes of it pounding everywhere at once. Then it changed, everything changed and became gentle, sweet, pure as the air in high country.

  From desperation to tenderness he eased her until her pulse slowed and went thick, until her throat ached from it and her eyes stung.

  “I love you.” He hadn’t meant to say it, but it was too much, too huge to keep trapped inside. His lips formed the words against hers, slowly.

  “What?” Dazed, dreaming, she stared into his eyes. “What did you say?”

  “I’m in love with you.”

  She dropped out of her floaty state and hit reality with a thud. She’d heard the words before. They were easy for some to toss off, just another line. But not from him, she realized. Not from a man like Nate.

  “That’s getting a little carried away.” She wanted to smile, keep it light. Couldn’t. “Nate, we’re just . . .”

  “Lovers?” he added, and didn�
��t bother to curse himself for