Montana Midwife (4 page)

“What can I do? Is there some kind of herb I can take?”

Many natural remedies were used to encourage labor, but Misty wasn’t at that point. “You’re already taking prenatal vitamins, right? And probably extra iron.”

Misty bobbed her head. “And I’m drinking herbal teas, mostly chamomile. I like doing organic stuff. I made Clinton take a class on natural childbirth that they were teaching at the hospital in Henley.”

“Good for you.” Tab squatted at the edge of the blanket and opened the plastic container she’d brought from her saddlebags. “Those breathing techniques are also useful for dealing with stress. Concentrate on inhaling and exhaling. Do you ever meditate?”

“You mean like yoga? Nope, that’s not my thing.”

“What helps you slow down and relax?” Tab assumed from Misty’s confused expression that slowing down wasn’t part of her agenda. “How about music? Do you listen to music?”

“All the time.” She dug into her jacket pocket and pulled out a tiny player attached to ear buds. “Mostly country and western. Is that unstressful?”

“Better than heavy metal,” Tab said. “When you feel yourself getting tight inside, just plug in your music, close your eyes and tune out all the other distractions.”

From the plastic container, she unpacked a simple picnic of crackers, cheese, jerky, an apple and a six-pack of bottled water. Misty pounced on the jerky. “You’re a mind reader, Tab. I was starving.”

Working with pregnant women taught her that she couldn’t go wrong with healthy snacks. “Dig in before the guys figure out that there’s food over here.”

Aiden’s effort to get the Jeep unstuck had deteriorated to walking about the vehicle, scratching his head and scowling. Clinton was doing much the same. Very likely, they’d come to the conclusion that when the sheriff got here, they could hook up a winch.

Sitting back on her heels, Tab watched as Misty devoured a chunk of jerky, took a huge swig from the water bottle and gave a loud burp followed by a giggle. “Sorry,” Misty said. “That was gross.”

“A little bit.”

“My body keeps doing this weird stuff. I have to pee all the time.”

“Can you feel the baby kicking?”

“I can.” A happy smile brightened her face. “That part is really cool.”

Tab was reminded of the seven-year-old she used to babysit. That summer had been rough on the girl. Not only had she lost her father, but her mother had been so devastated that she could barely drag herself out of bed. And Aiden had been preoccupied with the day-to-day operations at the ranch. Throughout, Misty maintained a relentlessly cheerful attitude to hide her pain and vulnerability.

“I wish I could stay here and wait with you,” Tab said, “but I need to leave soon.”

Misty nodded as she screwed the top back onto the water bottle. When she looked up, her eyes were troubled. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“Am I going to jail?”

Tab couldn’t promise a good outcome. Even if Misty was completely innocent, there were no guarantees. “I don’t know.”

* * *

A
N HOUR LATER, THE SUN
dipped low in the western sky. None of the law enforcement people had yet arrived on the scene, but Tab couldn’t wait any longer. Nightfall came early in November, and she didn’t want to ride home in the dark. It wasn’t far to her grandma’s house, probably only seven or eight miles, but there wasn’t a clearly marked trail between here and there, and she didn’t want to take a chance on getting lost.

After she gave Misty a hug, Tab made her way through the sage and dried prairie grass to where Shua was nibbling at a shrub. Aiden strode toward her. “Leaving so soon?”

“Not that it hasn’t been fun,” she said. “The sheriff can contact me later for a statement.”

“I’m glad you’re heading out while there’s still enough light to see where you’re going. You haven’t lived around here for a couple of years. Things change.”

As far as she could see, the change was minimal. The local landmarks—rolling hills, ridges and the river—were much the same as when she was a kid. On the opposite side of the Little Big Horn, she saw the sandstone cliff and the familiar arch above Half-Moon Cave. The land was eternal; the people were different.

She glanced over her shoulder at Misty’s little nest on the striped wool blanket. Though Clinton had his arm around her, Misty’s shoulders slumped, and her head drooped. “I’m worried about her,” Tab said. “If there’s anything I can do to help, call me.”

“Sure.”

His hand rested on Shua’s neck, and he stroked along the line of the horse’s mane. The gesture was completely natural, like the absentminded way you might pet a cat that jumped on your lap. This casual attitude around livestock said a lot about Aiden.

Unlike most of the men she’d dated in Billings and Missoula, he’d grown up on a ranch and was 100 percent cowboy. Right now, he was wearing a baseball cap instead of a Stetson, but he still looked the part with his long, lean body, his scuffed boots and his well-worn jeans. His hands were calloused. His wrists were strong. And his gray eyes had that cool awareness that came from hours of staring across the wide prairies, watching over several hundred head of cattle.

Had he changed? She wasn’t sure.

Though she wasn’t sixteen anymore, she was still a little bit blinded by her crush on him. When she looked at him, her pulse rate quickened. She had to swallow hard before she trusted herself to speak without stammering.

“I’m serious about having Misty call me,” she said. “She needs a friend.”

“You got that right. The girls she used to pal around with in high school are off at college, joining sororities and having all kinds of fun.” A frown tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I wanted that for her. Misty’s a smart kid.”

“You make it sound like her life is over.”

“She wanted to be a lawyer, talked about it all the time. She was planning to take on injustice and set the world straight. She’d sent off her application to a couple of universities, and she’d gotten accepted.”

“A lawyer, huh? That’s terrific.”

“Now, she’s going to be stuck on the ranch.”

Tab didn’t like his attitude and all that it implied. “She doesn’t have to give up her dreams. Having a baby isn’t the end of the world for Misty.”

His gaze met hers, and she braced herself for a bullheaded argument about how womenfolk are supposed to stay home and tend the young. Instead, Aiden said, “You’re right.”

“You’re damn right that I’m right.” She’d gotten herself all puffed up for no reason. “Right?”

“I’m not fighting you, Tab.”

“Well, good.”

“Misty needs to hear that she’s still got opportunities. She can still go to college and to law school.” His expression warmed. “It’d be good for her to spend time with you.”

Being close to Misty meant also being near him, which might be the very definition of a win-win situation. She cleared her throat and reached for her saddle. “I should mount up.”

“Not yet.”

When he lightly touched her shoulder, she spun around to face him. He was standing so close that she could see the prisms and facets in his eyes. “What is it, Aiden?”

“If you’ll wait a bit before you get up on your horse, I’d like to walk with you.”

“Suit yourself.”

Taking the reins, she stepped in front of Shua and made a clicking noise. The horse ambled along behind her as she and Aiden strolled along a path that followed the winding course of the river.

“To tell you the truth,” he said, “I’d like to escort you all the way back to your grandma’s place and make sure you get home safely.”

“I can handle myself.”

“Can you? If Misty’s story is true, the shooter might still be in the area.”

She looked up at him. “That hadn’t occurred to me.”

“It’s unlikely he’s still around, but it’s something to keep in mind. At that meeting in Crow Agency, nobody actually said we might be facing a serial killer. But it’s possible.”

She remembered the serious tone of the meeting and the warning to be on the lookout. “I thought the meeting was about two missing girls from Henley who were last seen on the rez.”

“There’s more to the story,” Aiden said. “A couple of months ago, at the end of the summer, the sheriff in Billings found the body of a tourist who had been camping. She was raped and murdered. Since then, three other girls have disappeared. All the victims are blonde, like Misty.”

Tab touched her long, black braid. “I guess that means I’m safe.”

“You can’t make that kind of assumption with a crazy person. His M.O. might change in a flash.”

Fear nibbled at the edge of her mind. “I’ll keep my rifle handy. And I won’t dawdle.”

“Call me when you get home.”

Her cell phone wasn’t much protection. Not only was the reception spotty but nobody would reach her in time if she called for help. “He used Misty’s rifle. Does that mean he doesn’t have his own gun?”

“I don’t know,” Aiden said.

“Have you been working with the police? You seem to know a lot about the murdered tourist and the girls from Billings.”

“I volunteer my chopper to look for missing persons, keeping an eye on things from the sky. I like to go up as often as possible.”

“You enjoy flying?”

“From the first time I rode in a chopper, I loved it—swooping through the skies, leaving gravity behind and soaring free.” The tension in his face relaxed as he looked heavenward and grinned. “It’s the freedom. No restraints. No regrets.”

“And no responsibilities,” she said.

“That, too.”

Aiden had been forced to take on a lot after his father died. He’d had to leave college and take care of the ranch. No wonder he wanted Misty to have a wider scope of opportunity. “I’ve never been in a helicopter.”

“A virgin,” he said.

In more ways than one, but he didn’t have to know about that part of her life. “You make it sound exciting.”

“It’s a different perspective,” he said. “I know a lot about this territory. And that’s one of the reasons I wanted to walk along with you. We might run into something along this path.”

“Something?”

“Somebody,” he said.

She heard a rustling in the brush beside the river and turned to look. “What is it?”

“You’ll see.”

A skinny man with a wild gray beard crept out from behind a tree. Over his shoulders, he wore a buffalo robe. He held a ski pole in each hand, using them as walking sticks.

“Visitors,” he shouted. “Welcome, pretty lady.”

Tab stood and stared. Her jaw dropped, and she felt her eyes pop wide like a cartoon version of herself. What the hell?

Chapter Four

Aiden relished the look of shock on Tab’s face. It wasn’t easy to ruffle her feathers, but he’d succeeded. She recovered her poise quickly. Her gaping mouth snapped shut, and her full lips smoothed into a slightly upturned line that wasn’t exactly a smile. Under her breath, she muttered, “Good thing you warned me about this little
something
. I might have shot him.”

No fear.
Her first thought was to grab her rifle and stand ready to protect herself. He liked that attitude. This lady wasn’t about to scream or take off running, not her. Not Tab.

Thinking of her as Tab instead of Tabitha was becoming easier. The longer name—Tabitha—rolled off his tongue with an almost musical resonance. Tab was one crisp, practical syllable. It suited her. The way he figured, a woman named Tab could stand up for herself while a Tabitha would be the type to flutter her eyelashes and swoon.

“Who is he?” she asked.

“His name is Wally, but everybody calls him Buffalo Man.”

“Certainly not because of his size,” she said. “He couldn’t weigh more than one twenty-five including the fur cape and ski poles. What’s he doing here?”

“He camps along the river. I spotted his tent when I did my visual sweep in the chopper.”

Feet together, the scrawny gray-haired man hopped toward them, mimicking the technique of a downhill skier. Gradually, he was coming closer.

“He could be the shooter,” Tab said.

“I don’t reckon so. His campsite is another mile or so downriver. He was there when I flew over.” Besides, Aiden had become fairly well acquainted with the old man. “He’s not a murderer. A thief? Maybe. But not a killer.”

Wally claimed to be part Crow, but nobody on the rez claimed him back. A drifter, he’d been in this area for three or four years. When he occasionally showed up at the Gabriel ranch looking for work, Aiden would find him something to do with the stipulation that Buffalo Man take a long soak in a hot tub and shave his whiskers. In a lucid moment, Wally had confided that he’d lost his job, his wife and his house, but he wasn’t sad or self-pitying. He’d chosen to go back to nature.

Usually, he wasn’t so talkative, and today he said nothing as he approached. When he was about five feet from them, Aiden caught the whiff of a powerful stench—the smell of old campfires and dirt. He held up a hand. “That’s close enough, Wally.”

Buffalo Man bared his yellow teeth in a grin. “That’s a pretty horse.”

“Thank you,” Tab said. “Do you live out here?”

“It’s my right. I’m Indian, like you.” He cocked his head to one side. “You’re Maria Spotted Bear’s granddaughter.”

“How do you know that?”

“I know things. Lots of things.”

“You’d better not be spying on my grandma,” she said. “I wouldn’t like that.”

He dug the tips of his ski poles into the earth and planted his fists on his skinny hips. “I am not a Peeping Tom. I have my dignity. You can ask Aiden. Go on, ask him.”

“Wally does work for me at the ranch. He’s a good handyman.”

“Handy Wally, that’s my moniker.”

Aiden watched Tab’s expression as her suspicion faded. It was her nature to be friendly. Her tribe had a tradition of welcoming strangers and sharing whatever they had. She took a step toward Wally and held out her hand as she offered a Crow greeting. “
Ka-hay.
My name is Tab Willows.”

He vigorously shook her hand. “Pleased to meet you, Tab.”

“It must get lonely out here. If you’re hungry or want company, come to my grandma’s house.”

“I don’t take charity.”