Montana Sky, Page 49

  “I won’t worry.” She kissed him. “You found me. You’ll find her. Bring her back safe.” It was a plea as much as a statement, but she stepped back to let him mount.

  “Take Lily inside, Tess.” Nate reined in, steadied his eager mount. “Stay inside.”

  “I will.” She laid a hand on his leg, squeezed. “Hurry” was all she could say.

  The horses drove west, and she and Lily turned, started back toward the house to begin the painful process of waiting.

  THIRTY

  “M Y MOTHER SERVED DRINKS IN A BAR DOWN IN Bozeman.” Jim sat cross-legged as he told his tale, like a true storyteller should. “Well, maybe she served more than drinks. I expect she did, though she never said. But she was a good-looking woman, and she was alone, and that’s the kind of thing that happens.”

  “I thought your mother came from Missoula.”

  “Did, original. Went back there, too, after I was born. Lots of women go home after something like that, but it never worked out for her. Or me. Anyhow, she served drinks and maybe more for the cowboys who passed through. Jack Mercy, he passed through plenty back in those days, looking to kick ass, get piss-faced drunk, find a woman. You ask anybody, they’ll tell you.”

  He picked up a stick, ran it over the rock. Behind her back Willa twisted her wrists, working them against the rope. “I’ve heard stories,” she said calmly. “I know what kind of man he was.”

  “I know you do. You used to turn a blind eye to it. I saw that too, but you knew. He took a shine to my mother back then. Like I said, she was a good-looking woman. You see the ones he married. They all had something. Looks, sure. Louella, she had flash. And Adele, seemed to me, seeing her, she’d have been classy and smart. And your ma, well she was something. Quietlike, and special, too. Seemed she could hear things other people couldn’t. I was taken with your ma.”

  It made her blood chill to hear it, to think of him anywhere near her mother. “How did you know her?”

  “We paid some visits. Never stayed long in the area, never at Mercy either. I was just a kid, but I got a clear memory of your ma, big and pregnant with you, walking with Adam in the pasture. Holding his hand. It’s a nice picture.” He mused on it for a while. “I was a bit younger than Adam, and I skinned my knee or some such, and your ma, she came up and got me to my feet. My mother and Jack Mercy were arguing, and your ma took me into the kitchen and put something cool on my knee and talked real nice to me.”

  “Why were you at the ranch?”

  “My ma wanted me to stay here. She couldn’t take care of me proper. She was broke and she got sick a lot. Her family’d kicked her out. It was drugs. She had a weakness for them. It’s because she was alone so much. But he wouldn’t have me, even though I was his own blood.”

  She moistened her lips, ignored the pain as the rope bit in. “Your mother told you that?”

  “She told me what was.” He pushed back his hat, and his eyes were clear. “Jack Mercy knocked her up one of the times he was down in Bozeman and looking for action. She told him as soon as she knew, but he called her a whore and left her flat.” His eyes changed, went glassy with rage. “My mother wasn’t a whore. She did what she had to do, that’s all. Whores are no damn good, worthless. They spread their legs for anybody. Ma only went on her back for money when she had to. And she didn’t do it regular until after he’d planted me and left her without a choice.”

  Hadn’t she told him that, tearfully, time and time again throughout his life? “What the hell was she supposed to do? You tell me, Will, what the hell was she supposed to do? Alone and pregnant, with that son of a bitch calling her a filthy lying whore.”

  “I don’t know.” Her hands were trembling now from the effort, from the fear. Because his eyes weren’t clear any longer, nor were they glassy. They were mad. “It was difficult for her.”

  “Damn near impossible. She told me time and time again how she begged and pleaded with him, how he turned his back on her. On me. His own son. She could’ve gotten rid of me. You know that? She could’ve had an abortion and been done with it, but she didn’t. She told me she didn’t because I was Jack Mercy’s kid and she was going to make him do right by both of us. He had money, he had plenty, but all he did was toss a few lousy dollars at her and walk out.”

  She began to see, too well, the bitterness of the woman planting the bitter seeds in the child. “I’m sorry, Jim. Maybe he didn’t believe her.”

  “He should’ve!” He slammed his fist on the rock. “He’d done it with her. He’d come to her regular, promised her he’d take care of her. She told me how he promised her, and she believed him. And even when she had me, took me to him to show him I had his eyes, and his hair, he turned her away so she had to go back to Missoula and beg her family to help her out. It’s because he was married to Louella then, snazzy Louella, and he’d just got her pregnant with Tess. So he didn’t want me. He figured he had a son coming. But he was wrong. I was the only son he was going to get.”

  “You had a chance to hurt Lily. In the cave, when Cooke had her.” He was too good with a rope, she thought. She couldn’t budge the knots. “You didn’t.”

  “I wouldn’t hurt her. I thought about it, sure. Early on when I first found out what he’d done in his will. I thought about it, but they’re kin.” He drew a deep breath, rubbed the side of his hand where he’d bruised it on the rock. “I promised my ma I’d come back to Mercy, I’d get what was mine by right of birth. She was sickly, having me made her sickly. That’s why she needed the drugs to help her get through the day. But she done her best for me. She told me all about my father, all about Mercy. She’d sit for hours and tell me about all of it, and what I’d do when I was old enough to go right up to his face and tell him I wanted what was mine.”

  “Where’s your mother now, Jim?”

  “She died. They said the drugs killed her, or she used them to kill herself. But it was Jack Mercy who killed her, Will, when he turned her away. She was dead from then on. When I found her lying there, cold, I promised her again I’d come to Mercy and do what she wanted.”

  “You found her.” There was sweat pouring down her face now. The heat had eased from the air, but sweat ran and dribbled into the raw skin of her wrists to sting. “I’m sorry. So sorry.” And she was, desperately.

  “I was sixteen. We were in Billings then, and I did some work at the feedlots when I could. She was stone dead when I came home and found her, lying there in piss and vomit. She shouldn’t have died that way. He killed her, Will.”

  “What did you do then?”

  “I figured on killing him. That was my first thought. I’d had a lot of practice killing. Stray cats and dogs mostly. I used to pretend they had his face when I carved them up. Only had a pocketknife to work with back then.”

  Her stomach rolled, rose up to her throat, and was swallowed down. “Your family, your mother’s family?”

  “I wasn’t going to go begging there, after they’d pushed her aside. Hell with them.” He picked up the stick, stabbed it at the rock. “Hell with them.”

  She couldn’t hold off the shudders as he stabbed the rock, over and over, repeating that phrase while his face twisted. Then he stopped, his face cleared, and he tapped the stick musically like a man keeping time.

  “And I’d made a promise,” he continued. “I went to Mercy, and I faced him down. He laughed at me, called me the bastard son of a whore. I took a swing at him, and he knocked me flat. He said I wasn’t no son of his, but he’d give me a job. If I lasted a month, he’d give me a paycheck. He turned me over to Ham.”

  A fist squeezed her heart. Ham. Had someone found him? Was anyone helping him? “Did Ham know?”

  “I always figured he did. He never spoke of it, but I figured it. I look like the old man, don’t you think?”

  There was such hope, such pathetic pride in the question. Willa nodded. “I suppose you do.”

  “I worked for him. I worked hard, I learned, and I worked harder. He gave me a
knife when I turned twenty-one.” He slid it out of its sheath, turned it under the moonlight. A Crocodile Bowie, with an eight-inch blade. The sawtooth top glittered like fangs.

  “That means something, Willa, a man gives his son a fine knife like this.”

  And the sweat on her skin turned to ice. “He gave you the knife.”

  “I loved him. I’d have worked the skin off my hands for him, and the bastard knew it. I never asked him for a thing more, because in my heart I knew when the time came he’d give me what was mine by right. I was his son. His only son. But he gave me nothing but this knife. When the time came, he gave it all to you, to Lily and to Tess. And he gave me nothing.”

  He inched forward, closer to her, the knife gleaming in his hand, his eyes gleaming in the dark. “It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair.”

  She closed her eyes and waited for the pain.

  C HARLIE RACED THROUGH THE HILLS, NOSE TO THE ground, ears at alert. Ben rode alone, grateful for the moonlight, praying that the clouds that gathered thick in the west would hold off. He couldn’t afford to lose the light.

  He could almost swear he smelled her himself. That scent of hers, soap and leather and something more that was only Willa. He wouldn’t picture her hurt. It would cloud his mind, and he needed all his senses sharp. This time his quarry knew the land as well as he. His quarry was mounted and knew all the tricks. He couldn’t depend on Willa slowing him down or leaving signs, because he couldn’t be sure she was . . .

  No, he wouldn’t think of that. He would only think of finding her, and what he would do to the man when he did.

  Charlie splashed into a stream and whined as he lost the scent. Ben walked his horse into the water, stood for a moment listening, plotting, praying. They’d follow the water for a while, he decided.

  That’s what he would have done.

  They walked through the stream, the water level stingy from the lack of rain. Thunder rumbled, and a bird screamed. Ben clamped down on the urge to hurry, to kick his horse into a run. He couldn’t afford to rush until they’d picked up the trail again.

  He saw something glint on the bank, forced himself to dismount. Water ran cold over his boots as he walked through the stream, bent, picked it up.

  An earring. Plain gold hoop. The breath whooshed out of his lungs explosively as his fist clutched it. She’d taken to wearing baubles lately, he remembered. He’d found it charming and sweet, that little touch of female added to her denim and leather. He’d enjoyed telling himself it was for his benefit.

  He tucked it into his front pocket, swung back on his horse. If she was clearheaded enough to leave him signs, he was clearheaded enough to follow them. He took his horse up the bank and let Charlie pick up the trail.

  “H E SHOULDNT HAVE DONE WHAT HE DID.” VOICE shaking, Jim sawed at the rope tying her ankles. “He did it just to show me he didn’t give a rat’s ass about me. About you, either.”

  “No.” The tears that sprang to her eyes weren’t pity, but sheer relief. With her bound hands she reached forward to massage her legs. They were horribly cramped. “He didn’t care about either of us.”

  “It made me crazy at first. Me and Pickles were up at the cabin when I heard, and I just went crazy. That’s why I killed the steer that way. I had to kill something. Then I started thinking. I had to get back at him, Will, make him pay. I wanted you to pay too, at first. You and Tess and Lily. I didn’t figure they had any right to what was mine. What he should’ve left to me. I thought I’d scare them off. Nobody’d get anything if I scared them off. I left the cat on the porch. I liked seeing Lily scream and cry over it. I’m sorry about that now, but I wasn’t thinking of her as kin then. I just wanted her to go away, back where she’d come from. And for Mercy to go to hell.”

  “Can you cut my hands loose, Jim? Please, my arms are cramped.”

  “I can’t. Not yet. You just don’t understand it all.”

  “I think I do.” The feeling was back in her legs. They were stinging as the blood surged back, but she could run if she saw an opening. “He hurt you. You wanted to hurt him back.”

  “I had to. What kind of man would I be if I took that from him? But the thing is, Will, I like killing things. I figure that’s from him too.” He smiled and a flash of lightning haloed him like a fallen saint. “Nothing much you can do about what comes down through the blood. He liked killing too. Remember that time he had you raise that calf, right from pulling it clear of its mother? You raised it up like a pet, even named it.”

  “Blossom,” she murmured. “Stupid name for a cow.”

  “You loved that dumb cow, won blue ribbons with it. I remember how he took you out that day. You were twelve, maybe thirteen, and he made you watch while he killed it for beef. Teaching you ranch life, he said, and you cried, and you went off and got sick. Ham damn near came to blows with the old man over it. You never had a pet since.”

  He took out a cigarette, struck a match. “You had an old dog then, died about a year after all that. You never got another.”

  “No, I never did.” She brought her knees to her chest, pressed her face to them as the memory washed over her.

  “I’m just telling you so you’ll see, so you’ll understand what’s in the blood. He liked being the boss, making people dance to his tune. You like being the boss too. It’s in the blood.”

  She could only shake her head, will herself not to break. “Stop it.”

  “Here now.” He rose, got the canteen he’d filled at the stream, and brought it to her. “Drink a little. I didn’t mean to get you so worked up. I’m just trying to make you understand.” He stroked her hair, his baby sister’s pretty hair. “We’re in this together.”

  C HARLIE SURGED FORWARD, CLAMORING OVER ROCKS. HE didn’t bark or howl, though his body vibrated often. Ben listened for the sounds of men, of horses, more dogs. If he was on track, then so was Adam. He could be sure of that. But he heard nothing but the night.

  He found the second earring lying on rock where wildflowers struggled through cracks. He retrieved it, touched it to his lips before tucking it away. “Good girl,” he whispered. “Just hang on a little longer.”

  He looked toward the sky. The clouds were sneaking toward the moon, and half the stars were gone. Rain, so long prayed for, was coming too soon.

  S HE DRANK, WATCHED HIS EYES. THERE WAS AFFECTION IN them. Terrifying. “You could have killed me, months ago. Before anyone else.”

  “I never wanted to hurt you. You’d gotten the shaft, just like me. I always figured that one day, we’d run Mercy. You and me. I didn’t even mind you being in charge. You’ve got a real knack for it. I do better when someone else points the way.”

  He sat back again, took a drink himself, capped the canteen. He’d lost track of time. It was soothing, sitting here with her, under the wide sky, reminiscing.

  “I didn’t plan on killing Pickles. Didn’t have a thing against him, really. Oh, he could be a pain in the butt with his complaining and argumentative ways, but he didn’t bother me any. He just happened along. I never figured he’d come rolling up there just then. Thought I had more time.

  I’d just planned on doing another steer, leaving it out where one of the boys would come across it and get things heated up. Then I had to do it. And, Will, to tell the truth and shame the devil, I got a taste for it.”

  “You butchered him.”

  “Meat’s meat when it all comes down to it. Damn, I could go for a beer right now. Wouldn’t a beer go down smooth?” He sighed, took off his hat to fan his face. “Cooled off some, but goddamn, it’s close. Maybe we’re in for that rain we’ve been waiting for.”

  She looked up at the sky, felt a jolt of alarm. They were going to lose the moon. If anyone was coming after her, they’d be coming blind as bats. She tested her legs again and thought they would do.

  And he tapped the knife on the toe of her boot. “I don’t know why I scalped him. Just came to me. Kind of a trophy, I guess. Like hanging a rack on the wall of
the den. I’ve got a whole box of trophies buried east of here. You know where those three cottonwood trees stand across from the far pasture?”

  “Yeah, I know.” She fought to keep her eyes on his, and off the knife.

  “I did all those calves that night. Seemed to me that would send those city girls running off, and that would be that. But they stuck. Had to admire that. Started me thinking a little, but I just couldn’t get past the mad of it.” He shook his head at his own stubbornness. “So when I picked up that kid, hitchhiking, I used her. I wanted to do a woman.”

  He moistened his lips. Part of him knew it wasn’t proper to talk of it with his little sister, but he couldn’t stop himself. “I’d never done a woman before. I had a yen to do Shelly, you know, Zack’s wife.”

  “Oh, my God.”

  “She’s a pretty thing, pretty hair. Couple times I went over to Three Rocks to play poker with the boys there, I studied on it. But I did that girl, and I left her there, right at the front door, just to show Jack Mercy who was boss. That was before the calves,” he said dreamily. “I remember now. That was before. They get all mixed up in my head, until Lily they do. It was Lily that changed things. She’s my sister. I got that into my head when J C treated her like that, hurt her like that. She might’ve died if I hadn’t taken care of her. Isn’t that right?”

  “Yes.” She wouldn’t be sick, refused to be. “You didn’t hurt her.”

  “I wouldn’t have harmed a hair on her head.” He caught the