Montana Sky, Page 28

  “Meanwhile, I’ve got to finish recording the birth information from today.” Willa rose, stretched. Then froze. Had that been a shadow at the window? Or a face? Slowly she lowered her arms, struggled to keep her features composed. “I wouldn’t stay up too late,” she said to Tess as she started out of the room. “You’re going to need your strength tomorrow.”

  “I’m really going to love hearing you scream during your bikini wax,” Tess called out, and had the satisfaction of seeing Willa’s head jerk around and her face register sheer horror. “I love having the last word,” she murmured.

  “Excuse me a minute.” Adam rose and followed Willa. He found her in the library, loading a rifle. “What is it?”

  So much for the poker face, she thought, snapping the chamber closed. “I thought I saw something outside.”

  “So you’re going out alone.” As he spoke he chose a shotgun, loaded it.

  “No use spooking everyone. It might have been my imagination.”

  “You don’t have a well-developed imagination.”

  She shook her head at that and decided it was hard to be insulted by the truth. “Well, it won’t hurt to do a quick walk around. We’ll go out the back.”

  They bundled into their outdoor gear in the mudroom. Though it was Willa’s instinct to go out first, Adam beat her to it, gently easing her aside.

  S OMEONE WATCHED THEM. IT WAS COLD, AND BITTER, BUT Jesse stood in the shadows, watching while his hand flexed eagerly on the weapon he carried. He dreamed of using it, on the man, taking out the man, leaving him bleeding.

  And just taking the woman, dragging her away, using her until he was done with her. Then killing her, of course. What other choice would he have?

  He wondered if he dared risk it, here, now. They were armed, and he’d seen how many people were in the house. He’d seen exactly. He’d seen Lily laughing, cozying up to that half-breed.

  Maybe it was best to wait—wait, and watch for the right moment. It could come anytime.

  It could come if they walked over to the pole barn. He knew what they would find there. He’d already been there.

  “A ROUND BY THE FRONT WINDOWS.” IF SHE COULDN’T lead the way, at least she could move side by side. “It was just a flash, after I stood up to go. I thought it might have been a face, someone looking in at us, but it was too dark to be sure. And it was gone fast.”

  Adam only nodded. He knew Willa too well to believe she would jump at shadows. There were prints in the snow alongside the walkway, but that was to be expected. With all the activity in the pole barn over the last couple of days, the snow on the lawn would hardly be undisturbed. There had been melt and refreezing, so the surface was brittle and gave way with a crackle under their boots.

  “Might have been one of the men,” Willa said while she studied the ground. “But it’s unlikely. They would just have knocked.”

  “Don’t see why they’d have gone through the flower beds to peek in the window either.” Adam gestured toward tracks close to the house between evergreen shrubs where flowers would bloom late in the spring.

  “So I did see something.”

  “I never doubted it.” From where he stood, Adam could see clearly through the window into the lights of the front room. He watched Lily laugh, sip her tea, then rise to offer Nate more brandy. “Someone was watching us. Or one of us.”

  Willa shifted her gaze away from the lights in the window, toward the dark. “One of us?”

  “Lily’s ex-husband, Jesse Cooke. He’s not in Virginia.”

  Instinctively Willa looked back to the window, shifted her grip on her rifle. “How do you know?”

  “Nate did some checking for me. He hasn’t shown up at his job or paid his rent since October.”

  “You think he’s come after her? How would he know where to look?”

  “I don’t know.” He moved back, away from the house. “Just speculating. That’s why I don’t see any point in bringing it up to her.”

  “I won’t say anything to her. But I think we should tell Tess. That way one of us can keep our eye out for him. And for Lily. Do we know what he looks like?”

  “No, but I’ll see what I can find out.”

  “All right. Meanwhile, we’d better look around. I’ll go this way, and—”

  “We’ll stick together, Will.” He laid a hand on her arm. “Two people are dead. Maybe this was just a pissed-off ex-husband wanting to get back at his wife. Or maybe it was something else. We stick together.”

  In silence they moved through the wind, circling the house. Overhead the sky was clear as glass, with diamond-chip stars wheeling and a three-quarter moon casting pale blue light on the snow at their feet. Cottonwood trees loomed and seemed to shiver under their coating of ice.

  In the frigid quiet, Willa heard the call of cattle. A mournful sound, she thought while her breath fumed out in front of her and was whisked away by the wind. Odd—such a sound had always seemed comforting to her before; now it was eerie.

  “They’re awfully stirred up for this late at night.” She looked in the direction of the pole barn, the corral beyond. “Maybe we’ve got some cows in labor. I’d better check.”

  Adam thought uncomfortably of his horses, unattended in the stables. It wasn’t easy to turn his back on them and go with Willa to the cattle.

  “Hear that?” She stopped, ears straining. “Hear that?” she repeated in a whisper.

  “No.” But he turned so they were guarding each other’s backs. “I don’t hear anything.”

  “I don’t hear it now either. It sounded like someone whistling ‘Sweet Betsy from Pike.’ ” She shook it off, tried to laugh at herself. “Just the wind, and the creeps. Hell, it has to be twenty below with the windchill. Anybody out here whistling tunes would have to be . . .”

  “Crazy?” Adam finished, and fought to see through the shadows.

  “Yeah.” Willa shivered inside her sheepskin. “Let’s go.”

  She’d intended to go straight into the pole barn, but the thick huddle of cattle at the far end of the corral drew her attention. “That’s not right,” she said half to herself. “Something’s off here.”

  She walked to the gate, shoved it open.

  At first she didn’t believe it, thought her eyes were dazzled by moonlight on snow. But the smell—she recognized the smell of death too well by now.

  “Oh, God, Adam.” With her free hand she covered her mouth, fought back the gorge that rose like a fountain in her throat. “Oh, sweet God.”

  Calves had been slaughtered. It was impossible at first to tell how many, but she knew she’d brought some of them into the world herself, only hours before. Now, instead of huddling against their mamas for warmth, they lay tossed into the snow, throats and bellies slit.

  Blood glittered on the ground, rich and red, in a hideous pool already crusting in the cold.

  It was weak, but she turned away from the carnage, lowered her rifle, and leaned on the fence until her insides settled into place.

  “Why? Why in God’s name would anyone do something like this?”

  “I don’t know.” He rubbed her back, but he didn’t turn away. He counted eight infant calves, mutilated. “Let’s get you back to the house. I’ll deal with this.”

  “No, I can deal with it. I can.” She wiped a gloved hand over her mouth. “The ground’s too hard to bury them. We’ll have to burn them. We’ll have to get them out of here, away from the other calves and the females, and burn them.”

  “Nate and I can do that.” He struggled not to sigh at her set expression. “All right, we’ll all do it. But I want to get you back inside for a few minutes. Will, I have to check on the horses. If—”

  “Jesus.” Her own misery faded in fear for him, and his. “I didn’t even think. Let’s go. Hurry.”

  She didn’t head back to the house, but half ran toward the horse barn. The fear raced giddily in her head that she would fling open the door and be met again with that hideous smell of death.


  They hit the door together, wrenched it open. She was already prepared to grieve, prepared to rage. But all that met her was the scents of hay and horse and leather.

  Nonetheless, by tacit agreement they checked every stall, then the corral beyond. They left lights burning behind them.

  Adam moved to his house next, to look in on his dogs. He’d started locking them in at night right after the incident with the barn cat. They greeted him happily, tails thumping. He suspected, with a mixture of amusement and worry, that they would have greeted an armed madman with the same friendly enthusiasm.

  “We can call the main house from here, ask Nate to meet us at the pole barn. You want Ham, too.”

  Willa bent down to scratch an eager Beans between the ears. “Everyone. I want everyone out there. I want them to see what we’re up against.” Her eyes hardened. “And I want to know what everyone’s been doing for the last couple hours.”

  T HE TASK WASN’T PHYSICALLY ARDUOUS, BUT IT WAS painful. Dragging butchered newborns into a pile on the snow-covered ground. There were plenty of hands to help, and there was no conversation.

  Once Willa caught Billy surreptitiously wiping a hand over his eyes. She didn’t hold the tears against him. She would have wept herself if it would have done any good.

  When it was done, she took the can of gasoline from Ham. “I’ll do it,” she said grimly. “It’s for me to do this.”

  “Will—” He cut off his own protest, then nodded before gesturing the men to move back.

  “How can she stand it?” Lily murmured, shivering with Tess beyond the corral fence. “How can she stand it?”

  “Because she has to.” Tess shuddered as Willa sloshed gas on the small heap. “We all have to,” she added, draping an arm over Lily’s shoulders. “Do you want to go inside?”

  More than anything in the world, Lily thought, but she shook her head fiercely. “No, we’ll stay till it’s finished. Until she’s finished.”

  Willa adjusted the bandanna she’d tied over her nose and mouth and took the box of matches from Ham. It took her three attempts to get a flame to hold in her cupped hand, and with the teeth of the wind snapping against her, she had to crouch low and close to start the fire.

  It burned high and fast, spewing heat. In only seconds, the odor of roasting meat was thick, and sickening. Smoke whipped out toward her, making her eyes water and her throat clog. She stepped back, one step, then two before she could hold her ground.

  “I’ll call Ben.” Nate shifted to her side.

  She kept her eyes on the flames. “For what?”

  “He’ll want to know. You’re not alone in this, Willa.”

  But she felt alone, and helpless. “All right. I appreciate your help, Nate.”

  “I’ll be staying the night.”

  She nodded. “No sense in me asking Bess to make up a guest room, is there?”

  “No. I’ll do a shift on guard, and use Tess’s room.”

  “Take whatever gun you want.” Turning, she moved to Ham. “I want a twenty-four-hour watch, Ham. Two men at a time. Nate’s staying, so that makes six of us tonight. I want Wood to stay home with his family. They shouldn’t be alone. Billy and I’ll take the first, you and Jim relieve us at midnight. Nate and Adam will take over at four.”

  “I’ll see to it.”

  “Tomorrow I want you to find out how soon we can sign on the two hands from High Springs. I need men. Offer them a cash bonus if you have to, but get them here.”

  “I’ll see they’re on within the week.” In a rare show of public affection, he squeezed her arm. “I’m gonna tell Bess to make coffee, plenty of it. And you be careful, Will. You be careful.”

  “No one’s killing any more of mine.” Her face set, Willa turned, studied the women huddled together at the corral fence. “You get them inside for me, will you, Ham? Tell them to stay inside.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  “And tell Billy to get a rifle.”

  She shifted again and watched the flames shoot into the black winter sky.

  PART THREE

  SPRING

  A little Madness in the Spring . . .

  —Emily Dickinson

  EIGHTEEN

  B EN LOOKED OVER THE OPERATION AT MERCY, THE STEADY activity in the pole barn, so like the activity he’d left back at Three Rocks, the piled and tattered snow in the corrals, the gray puffs of smoke from chimneys.

  Except for the blackened circle well beyond the paddock, there were no signs of the recent slaughter.

  Unless you looked closely at the men. Faces were grim, eyes were spooked. He’d seen the same looks in the faces and in the eyes of his own hands. And like Willa, he had ordered a twenty-four-hour guard.

  There was little he could do to help her, and the frustration of that made his own mouth tight as he gestured her away from the group.

  “Don’t have much time for chatting.” Her voice was brisk. He didn’t see fear in her eyes, but fatigue. Gone was the woman who had flirted him into a date, who had laughed with him over a white tablecloth and wine, shared popcorn at the movies. He wanted to take her away again, just for an evening, but knew better.

  “You hired on the two men from High Springs.”

  “They came on last night.”

  Turning, she studied Matt Bodine, the younger of the two new hands, already dubbed College Boy. His carrot-colored hair was covered by a light gray Stetson. He had a baby face, which he’d tried to age with a straight line of red hair over his top lip. It didn’t quite do the job, Willa thought.

  Though they were nearly the same age, Matt seemed outrageously young to her, more like Billy than herself. But he was smart, had a strong back and a well of fresh ideas.

  Then there was Ned Tucker, a lanky, taciturn cowboy of indeterminate age. His face was scored with lines from time and sun and wind. His eyes were an eerily colorless blue. He chewed on the stubs of cigars, said little, and worked like a mule.

  “They’ll do,” she said after a moment.

  “I know Tucker well enough,” Ben began, then wondered if he knew anyone well enough. “Got a hell of a hand with a lasso, wins at the festival every year. Bodine, he’s new.” He shifted so that his eyes as well as the tone of his voice indicated his thought. “Too new.”

  “I need the help. If it’s one of them who’s been fucking with me, I’d just as soon have him close by. Easier to watch.” She let out a little breath. They should have been talking about the weather, the calf pulling, not about murder. “We lost eight calves, Ben. I’m not losing any more.”

  “Willa.” He laid a hand on her arm before she could walk away. “I don’t know what I can do to help you.”

  “Nothing.” Sorry for the snap in her voice, she slipped her hands into her pockets and softened her tone. “There’s nothing anyone can do. We’ve got to get through it, that’s all, and things have been quiet the last couple days. Maybe he’s finished, maybe he’s moved on.”

  She didn’t believe it, but it helped to pretend she did.

  “How’re your sisters handling it?”

  “Better than I could have expected.” The tightness around her mouth eased as she smiled. “Tess was out here pulling calves. After the first couple, and a lot of squealing, she did okay.”

  “I’d have paid money to see that.”

  For an instant the smile spread into a grin. “It was worth the price of a ticket, especially when her jeans split.”