Black Hills, Page 47

  “It took months, close to a year, before I could pay him back. It wasn’t just the money, Lil, breaking my father’s hold on the trust payment. It was, finally, breaking his hold on me.”

  “His loss. And I don’t mean the control. He lost you.”

  “And I lost you.”

  She shook her head, turned back to the stove.

  “I had to prove myself before I could be with you, and proving myself meant I couldn’t be.”

  “Yet here we are.”

  “And now I have to prove myself to you.”

  “That’s not it.” Fresh annoyance shimmered in her voice. “That’s not right.”

  “Sure it is. It’s fair. A pisser, but fair. There’s a lot of thinking time when you’re working with horses. I’ve spent a good chunk of that thinking about this. You’ve got me on probation, and that’s a pisser. You want to make sure I’m not going to leave again, and you want to make sure you want me to stay. But in the meantime, I get to have you in bed, and now and then I get a hot meal I didn’t have to make myself. And I can watch you through the kitchen window. That’s fair.”

  “Sex and food and occasional voyeurism?”

  “And I can look in your eyes and see that you love me. I know you can’t hold out forever.”

  “I’m not holding out. I’m—”

  “Making sure,” he finished. “Same thing.” He moved, fast and smooth, and had her wrapped in a kiss, layered in the warmth, in the need. He let her go slowly, and with a soft, lingering bite.

  “The chicken smells good.”

  She eased him back a little farther. “Sit down. It should be done.”

  They ate, and by tacit agreement turned the conversation to simple things. The weather, the horses, the health of her new tiger. They did the dishes together. After he’d checked the locks—the only outward sign of trouble—they settled in to watch the ball game. They made love while the waxing moon poured its light through the windows.

  And still, in the night, she dreamed of running. A panic race through the moonstruck forest with terror galloping in her chest and her breath a harsh echo. She felt the sweat of effort and fear slick her skin. Brush tore at that skin as she fought through it, and she scented her own blood.

  So would he.

  She was hunted.

  The high grass slashed at her legs when she reached the flats. She heard the pursuit, steady, always closer no matter how fast she ran, which direction she took. The moon was a spotlight, mercilessly bright, leaving her no place to hide. Flight, only flight could save her.

  But his shadow fell over her, nearly bore her to the ground with its weight. Even as she turned, to face, to fight, the cougar sprang out of the high grass, its fangs bared for her throat.

  27

  A day passed, then another. There were reports of sightings of Ethan in Wyoming as far south as Medicine Bow, as far north as Shoshoni. But none panned out.

  The search team in Spearfish thinned, and talk in town and the outlying farms turned to other matters. Spring plowing and planting, lambings, the cougar who’d perched in an apple tree in a yard not a quarter-mile from downtown Deadwood.

  People agreed over pie at the diner, across the counter of the post office, between sips of beer at the bar that the man who’d killed that poor guy from St. Paul had run off.

  The trail had gone cold.

  But Lil remembered the dream, and knew they were wrong.

  While those around her lowered their guard, she only strengthened hers. She began to slip a knife in her boot every morning. Its weight gave her peace of mind even as she resented the need for it.

  Good weather brought the tourists, and the tourists meant increased donations. Mary reported their seven percent increase for the first quarter held steady for the first weeks of the second. Good news, Lil knew, but she couldn’t work up enthusiasm.

  The more settled and ordinary the days became, the more her nerves frayed. What was he waiting for?

  She asked herself that question as she carried hampers of food, or hosed down enclosures, as she uncarted supplies. Every time she made her rounds of the habitats her muscles braced for attack.

  She all but willed it to come. She’d rather see Ethan leap out of the woods armed to the teeth than wait and wait for some unseen trap to spring.

  She could watch Boris and Delilah curled together, or see him lead, and her tentatively follow into the grass, and feel pleasure, a sense of accomplishment. But under it brewed worry and stress.

  She should be helping Mary and Lucius plan the summer open house, or put real effort into helping Tansy plan her wedding. But all she could think was: When? When would he come? When would it be finished?

  “The waiting’s driving me crazy.” Following another new habit, Lil circled the habitats with Coop after the staff had gone for the day.

  “Waiting’s what you have to do.”

  “I don’t have to like it.”

  She wore one of their new Chance Wildlife Refuge hoodies under her oldest jacket, and couldn’t seem to stop playing with the strings.

  “It’s not like sitting in a jeep half the night waiting for a pride of lions to come to the watering hole, or even sitting at a computer tracking a collared cougar for a report. That’s doing something.”

  “Maybe we were wrong. Maybe he did head west.”

  “You know he didn’t.”

  Coop shrugged. “Willy’s doing the best he can, but he’s got limited resources. There’s a lot of ground up there, and a lot of hikers, trail riders, and campers making tracks.”

  “Willy’s not going to find him. I think we both know that.”

  “Luck plays, Lil, and you have a better chance at getting lucky with persistence. Willy’s damn persistent.”

  “And you have a better chance of getting lucky if you take a chance. I feel like I’m locked in here, Coop, and worse, just running in place. I need to move, need to act. I need to go up there.”

  “No.”

  “I’m not asking for your permission. If I decide to do this, you can’t stop me.”

  “Yes, I can.” He glanced at her. “And I will.”

  “I’m not looking to argue, not looking to fight. You’ve gone up. I know you’ve guided tours on the trail the last couple days. And we both know he’d be happy to hurt you if only to get to me.”

  “Calculated risk. Hold it,” he ordered before she could debate. “If he tried to take me out, he’d bring back the full force of the search. He took the time and effort to point the arrow west and the FBI’s followed it. Why bring them back? Second, if he was stupid or impulsive enough to try, I carry a radio, which I show every member of the tour how to use, in case of accident. So he’d have to take me out, and the entire group I’m guiding. Calculated risk,” he repeated.

  “And you get to sit your ass on a horse, ride. Breathe.”

  He skimmed a hand over her hair, a subtle show of sympathy. “That’s true enough.”

  “I know you’re going up hoping to find some signs, pick up a trail. You won’t. You’ve got some skills, but they’re rusty. And you were never as good as I was.”

  “Circles back to luck and persistence.”

  “I could go up with you, take a group up with you.”

  “Then, if he happened to catch sight of us, or you, he might take me out. Then he could force you off at gunpoint, so by the time anyone still alive radioed for help, you’d be gone. Well gone if he used the horses. Waiting means he moves first. He exposes himself first.”

  She stalked down the path and back. In his enclosure, Baby mirrored her move. The reflected motion had Coop’s lips curving. “That cougar’s a slave to his love for you.”

  She glanced over, nearly smiled herself. “No ball tonight, Baby. We’ll play in the morning.”

  He let out a call that Coop would have called a whine if cougars were capable of it.

  Lil ducked under the barricade, relenting enough to rub him through the cage, let him butt her head, lick her
hand.

  “Is he going to be pissed if I come over there?”

  “No. He’s seen you with me enough. He’s smelled you on me, and me on you. A cougar’s sense of smell isn’t his strongest asset, but Baby knows my scent. Come over.”

  When he’d joined her, Lil put her hand over his, and laid it on Baby’s fur. “He’ll associate you with me. He knows I’m not afraid of you, or threatened. And he really likes to be rubbed. Bump foreheads with me. Just lean down, touch your forehead to mine.”

  “He smells your hair,” Coop murmured as he rested his brow against hers. “The way I do. It smells like the hills. Clean, and just a little wild.”

  “Now rest your forehead on the bars. It’s an offer of affection. Trust.”

  “Trust.” Coop tried not to imagine what those sharp teeth could do. “Are you sure he’s not the jealous type?”

  “He won’t hurt what I care about.”

  Coop laid his forehead on the fencing. Baby studied him for a moment. Then he rose to his hind legs, bumped his head against Coop’s.

  “Did we just shake hands or exchange a sloppy kiss?” Coop wondered.

  “Somewhere in between. Three times I tried to release him to the wild. The first, when I took him and his littermates up into the hills, he tracked me back—to my parents. I’d ridden there to visit. You can imagine the surprise we got when we heard him, then opened the back door and saw him sitting on the porch.”

  “He followed your scent.”

  “For miles, and he shouldn’t have been able to, he shouldn’t have wanted to.”

  “Love adds to ability, I’d say, and desire.”

  “Unscientific, but . . . The second time, he tracked me back to the refuge, and the last, I had Tansy and an intern take him. That was guilt on my part. I didn’t want to let him go, but felt I had to try. He beat them back. He came home. His choice. Good night, Baby.”

  She moved back to the path. “The other night I dreamed I was being hunted. Running and running, but he kept getting closer. And when I knew I was done, when I had to turn and fight, a cougar leaped out of the grass and went for my throat.”

  She leaned into him when he put his arm around her shoulders. “I’ve never dreamed of being attacked by a cat. Never. Not even after I’d been bit, or come out of some dicey situation. But this has done that. I can’t keep being afraid. I can’t keep being locked in here.”

  “There are other ways to get out.”

  “What? Going into the city to shop?”

  “It’s out.”

  “Now you sound like my mother. It’ll do me good, take my mind off things. That’s when I’m not hearing how Tansy wants her best friend and maid of honor with her when she picks out her wedding dress.”

  “So you’re going.”

  “Of course I’m going.” But she sighed. “Tansy’s mother flew in today, and tomorrow we’re off on our safari. And I feel guilty about being irritated about it.”

  “You could buy new sexy underwear.”

  She slanted him a look. “You’ve got a one-track mind.”

  “Stay on track, you eventually reach the finish line.”

  “I need the hills, Coop.” Her fingers went back, tugging and twisting the strings of the hoodie. “How long can I let him take them from me?”

  This time he leaned down, pressed his lips to her hair. “We’ll take the horses down to Custer. We’ll ride the hills all day.”

  She wanted to say those weren’t her hills, but it would have been petty and pouty.

  She looked toward their silhouette, blank and black under the night sky. Soon, she thought. It had to be soon.

  LIL REMINDED HERSELF, again, she liked to shop. Geography and circumstances meant she did a lot of that online, so when she had the chance to really dig into the colors, shapes, textures, smells of shopping in three dimensions, she did so with enthusiasm.

  And she enjoyed the company of women, particularly these women. Sueanne Spurge had charm and a sense of fun, and got along like a house afire with Jenna and Lucy.

  She liked the city, too. Usually. She enjoyed the change of pace, the sights, the stores, the crowds. Since childhood a trip into Rapid City had been a special treat, a day of fun and busy doings.

  But now the noise annoyed, the people just got in the way, and she wanted nothing more than to be back at the refuge—which only the night before had begun to feel like a prison.

  She sat in the pretty dressing room of the bridal boutique, sipping sparkling water garnished with a thin slice of lemon, and thought about what trails she would take if she had the opportunity to hunt Ethan.

  She’d start on the flat, where he’d disabled the camera. The search had covered that area, but that didn’t matter. They might have missed something. He’d killed there, at least twice. A human and her cougar. It was part of his hunting ground.

  From there, she’d cover the ground to the Crow Peak trail, where he most likely had intercepted James Tyler. From there to the river, where the body had been found. From that point—

  “Lil!”

  Lil jolted back so fast she nearly tipped the water into her lap. “What?”

  “The dress.” Tansy spread her arms to model the off-the-shoulder ivory confection of silk and lace.

  “You look gorgeous.”

  “All brides look gorgeous.” A hint of impatience edged into Tansy’s tone. “We’re taking opinions on the dress.”

  “Um . . .”

  “I just love it!” Sueanne clasped her hands together at her heart as her eyes filled. “Baby, you look like a princess.”

  “The color’s lovely on you, Tansy,” Jenna put in. “That warm white.”

  “And the lines.” Lucy rubbed her hand up and down Sueanne’s back. “It’s very romantic.”

  “It’s a spectacular dress,” Lil managed finally.

  “And it’s an outdoor country wedding. Doesn’t anyone else think this is, yes, spectacular, but too much for a simple, country wedding?”

  “You’re still the showpiece,” Sueanne insisted.

  “Mama, I know you’ve got Princess Tansy in mind, and I love you for it. I love the dress, too. But it’s not what I have in my mind for my wedding.”

  “Oh. Well.” Obviously deflated, Sueanne managed a wobbly smile. “It has to be your dress.”

  “Why don’t we go hunt some more?” Lucy suggested. “Lil can help her out of that one, and into one of the others we’ve got in here. But maybe we missed the perfect one.”

  “That’s a great idea. Come on, Sueanne.” Jenna took the mother of the bride by the arm to steer her out.

  “I love it, I really do.” Tansy did a turn in front of the three-way mirror. “What’s not to love? If we were doing something more formal, I’d snatch this in a heartbeat, but . . . Lil!”

  “Hmm. Damn it. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Setting the water glass aside, she rose to unhook the back of the dress. “I’m a terrible friend. I’m the worst maid of honor in the history of maids of honor. I deserve to wear puce organdy with two dozen flounces and puffy sleeves. Please don’t make me wear puce organdy.”

  “I’m holding it in reserve,” Tansy said darkly, “so watch your step. I know you didn’t want to come today.”

  “It’s not that. I just haven’t been able to get my head here. But now it is. I’m keeping it here. Solemn swear.”