Montana Refuge (17 page)

Decision made, it was all he could do to keep going forward, but there were just a couple more hours to go before they made camp and people were too spread out to effect any changes right that minute anyway.

He tried to do something of a head count. He could see the secretaries trying to steer a group of about six heifers and their calves with the help of Bobby Taylor and Mele. John Smyth wasn’t far away, riding near the two fishermen brothers. The older Taylors were taking care of the cliffside flank like seasoned pros.

Tyler looked around for Meg Peterson who usually rode with the secretaries, but not today. Too many terrible things had happened not to grow alarmed at her absence, and he pulled Yukon to a stop, turning in his saddle and shading his eyes to look behind him. A glimpse of white announced her horse’s presence, out near the rim of the trail next to a precipitous drop of fallen rocks that cascaded down the hillside. Meg was in the saddle, but although she wasn’t a bad horsewoman, he didn’t want her that close to the unstable edge of the trail.

“Come on, boy,” he urged Yukon and started the ride back to her, wishing he could shout out a warning but not wanting to take a chance of spooking a cow—or a guest.

It appeared she was taking photos with a handheld camera. Perhaps she sensed his focus on her. Her head went up. Her hat was pushed far back on her sunburned face, but she was too far away and the sun was too high in the sky for Tyler to make out her expression.

She waved an arm as though to greet him. Her horse reared back a little, dancing near the border of the bank. All Tyler could think was that the combination of an overconfident rider and a startled horse was never good. Sure enough, Snowflake took off.

Meg was obviously pulling back on the reins but it was doing little good. Tyler watched the scene unfold with cruel clarity as all four of the animal’s feet slid over the side of the trail and started down the crumbling shale. Meg sat far back in the saddle, instinctively using her body as a counterweight to the horse’s forward momentum as a small avalanche of dirt and stones formed a brown cloud around them.

The whole episode was oddly quiet, the only sounds being the crumbling rock. Meg appeared to be too startled to cry out and the horse was obviously fighting for her life. Tyler rode hard, wondering what in the world he could do to help.

He threw himself off Yukon a few feet from the compromised edge, dropping the reins in haste. As he looked over the side, he saw the horse lose her battle and fall forward onto her knees. Meg immediately flew right over the top of the horse’s head, her body landing several feet farther down with a horrible thud. Snowflake was up again almost at once, and this time she found footing, taking her parallel with the face of the slope and galloped away in a cloud of dust.

Meg Peterson lay on a narrow shelf of land about twenty feet down the slope. Tyler heard horses approaching and turned to find John Smyth had joined him. In the distance, he could see some of the wranglers headed back his way.

Narrowing his eyes, he peered down at Meg’s still body again, taking his first real breath when he detected the rise and fall of her chest and a movement of her legs.

“Did she make it?” John asked, grabbing his lasso off his saddle.

“So far. We’ve got to get her off that ledge before she accidentally rolls off.” Tyler grabbed his lasso, too, and started tying a square knot to unite the two. They needed at least one more lasso, though.

“Do you want me to go after her horse?” John asked.

“No, I need you here to help me. Get one of the others to go. It’ll probably head back to the canyon where we spent the night. And send someone up ahead to get the doctor. Tell whoever goes to trade places with him and help Julie get the wagon back here as fast as she can. Damn, she’s probably already at the camp.”

Wranglers and guests alike began arriving to see what was wrong and offer help. Another lasso was donated and another knot secured, then Tyler tied a bow knot and slipped the loop over his own head down to his waist. It was a gesture eerily reminiscent of the one Julie had done the day before when she was stuck in the middle of the river.

“I’m going down to make sure she can be moved,” Tyler said, looking from face to face, landing last on John’s. He would be hard-pressed to say why he trusted this man even if he had time to try to figure it out.

“There aren’t any trees to wrap the line around for leverage, so playing out the line is going to fall directly on you guys,” he added, and amid a chorus of encouragement, stepped backward off the rim of the trail. His boots immediately slid on the rocks and he started to fall. The rope yanked up under his arms. As the men on top adjusted their hold, he did the same and when he began repelling again, it was slower and at an angle.

Within a few minutes, he’d landed on the shelf and was kneeling beside Meg, whose crumbled glasses lay broken beside her in two pieces. Her eyes were open and dazed.

“I’m mighty glad to see you,” she said.

He hoped his smile was reassuring. “Can you sit up? Is anything broken?”

“I don’t know. Maybe my wrist.”

“Try sitting,” Tyler said. He wasn’t feeling real secure about this ledge. It seemed his added weight had created additional erosion and the sound of skittering rocks was a constant.

He helped her sit, cautioning her to take it slow. She’d landed on her hands and they were bleeding as was a cut or two on her face. She looked up at him, tears in her eyes. “This really hurts,” she said, cradling her right hand with her left. “I think it’s broken.”

“May I look?”

“Don’t touch it, though,” she screamed as his fingers landed lightly on her good hand.

“I won’t.”

She unfolded her left fingers to reveal the injured hand. The blood on her skin seemed to come from contusions and not bones poking through the skin.

“At least it’s not a compound break,” he said.

She clutched it to her breast. “Is the doctor up there waiting for me?”

“He will be soon,” Tyler assured her. “I sent someone as soon as you fell.” While he spoke, he took the rope from around his waist and slipped it back over his head. Somehow this woman was going to have to get up the slope with just one hand to help steady herself. All the medical supplies were on the wagon.

He slipped the rope over her head, careful not to hit her hand. Then he took off his vest and helped her button it with her injured arm tucked inside. It wasn’t real tight on her even with one arm pinned against her torso, but he adjusted it as well as he could so at least the hand wouldn’t flap around as she the men above pulled her to safety.

“Can’t we call for a helicopter?” she asked, clearly unimpressed with the rope.

“The telephones don’t work very well out here,” he said. We’ll get you back where it’s safe and if the doctor thinks you need to be airlifted, I’ll ride to the top of the plateau and call for help.”

“This all seems so old-fashioned,” she said, looking up at him as he finished securing the rope. “Is your wife responsible for what happened to me?”

“You mean your fall?” he asked, surprised when she nodded. “Why would you think that? What exactly happened anyway? Why did Snowflake go over the side that way?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “I dropped behind to get a few pictures. The horse just seemed to get a wild hair as though something spooked her. Next thing I knew, she’d started down that slope. Did something frighten her? Did whoever is behind all these shenanigans mistake me for Julie?”

He glanced down at her short, plump form and sunburned face. No two women looked less alike than Meg Peterson and Julie Hunt. “I don’t see how that’s possible,” he said.

“I don’t see how you can discount what happened to me,” she said. “By trying to save her, we put ourselves in jeopardy and you let us.”

He wasn’t going to stand there and argue with a frightened, injured guest who was obviously in pain especially when he suspected she could be right. “Let’s just get you up top so the doctor can set that wrist.”

“I want to go home,” she said. “It’s dangerous out here and it’s not any fun anymore.”

“Yes, ma’am, it is dangerous,” he said as he double-checked the knots. It was one reason everyone had to sign a waiver. This was a real cattle drive fraught with real danger on occasion, but he wasn’t going to argue that either. The fact was he agreed with her, he was partially responsible for this no matter what its cause. He looked up the cliff and hollered. “John? Meg has what appears to be a broken wrist. She’s not going to be able to help you hoist her much. Are you guys ready?”

“Ready,” John’s voice rang out.

“Just hang on to the rope with your good hand,” he told Meg.

She nodded, then violently shook her head. “I can’t do it,” she said, looking up at the rocks and dirt and then down toward the trail far below.

“You have to,” he said.

“Call someone, please,” she said, fumbling in her pocket with her good hand. “Get a helicopter or a rescue team or something.” The pitch of her voice climbed as she spoke—it sounded as though hysteria wasn’t far behind.

He thought they’d already been over that, but she seemed close to hysteria. He took her phone and clicked it on. Nothing happened. “Your battery is dead,” he said, handing it back.

She swore softly. “You must have one. Use it.”

He took his phone from his pocket and turned it on, and showed her the face. “No signal.”

As she grabbed for it, the phone slipped from his hand, bouncing against the cliff as it tumbled down the hill. Meg cried out in alarm and covered her eyes with her good hand. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “Oh dear, now what?”

“Don’t worry about the phone. We’re on our own, but you shouldn’t worry. We’re used to taking care of things ourselves. You’re going to be fine.”

“Maybe someone up there—”

“Not with these mountains all around us. Let me help you get back to safety.”

“I just can’t go up that little rope,” she said, wiping at her tears. “What if they drop me?”

“Ma’am, we’re wasting time. Come on.”

“What about you?”

“They’ll send the rope back down for me once you’re safe. Now, pardon my hands, but I’m going to hold on to you while you get started.”

Right on cue, the rope became taut again. “Keep it down around your butt or waist,” he cautioned, and lifting and steadying her, helped her get her feet in position.

She was a lot smaller than he was and it still took the guys forever to get her to the top because she kept yelling at them to go slower. At last she disappeared from his view. He listened for the doctor’s voice, but all he heard was a small cry from Meg.

“Everything okay?” he called.

The answer was the rope which trailed down the hill, the last five feet or so landing at his feet as he dodged the small shower of rocks that came with it. He hitched the rope around his own waist and yanked it to signal he was ready.

The climb up was tricky but accomplished without mishap. A couple of the wranglers caught him under the arms and helped him up the last foot or two.

He immediately looked to the welfare of his guest, expecting to see the doctor bending over her. But a tearful Meg Peterson stood in a circle of concerned wranglers and other guests, Red Sanders urging her to take a restorative sip from his hip flask.

“Where is the doctor?” Meg demanded.

Tyler looked past the herd toward the trail.

“Mele went after him over an hour ago,” John said, his voice lowered.

Tyler’s gut seized. A rider with Mele’s skill should have caught up with the wagon in a hurry. Even given the fact the doctor was a poor horseman, there should be some sign of his return by now. Was Meg right? Did Snowflake’s odd behavior and Meg’s subsequent fall have something to do with the continued attacks on Julie? He barked orders at the wranglers as he mounted Yukon. John got on his horse, too.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Tyler asked.

“With you. Objections?”

“No.”

Once they cleared the herd of milling cattle, they rode as hard as Tyler ever had. He kept expecting to see a cloud of dust announcing an approaching rider, but time ticked by with no sign of anyone.

His great hope was that Julie and the doctor had reached the campsite and maybe the doctor had wandered off to look at the rocks or something and Mele was having a hard time finding him. That hope was dashed when they climbed over a rise only to finally see the chuck wagon in the distance, its tall stern facing them, the canvas cover billowing in the breeze. It looked as though the wagon had stopped in the middle of the trail next to an outcropping of huge boulders. The horses were still harnessed, but he could see no sign of movement.

Tyler pulled Yukon to a halt and took a minute to dig the binoculars out of his saddle bag. The whole thing struck him as a setup of some kind and he knew there was no good to come from riding into a trap.

John pulled his horse to a stop nearby. “See anything?” he asked.

Tyler peered through the glasses. “Mele is hovering over someone or something on the far side of the wagon,” he said, heart in his throat. Was it Julie?

“Can you see anyone else?”

“No one. Andy’s horse is gone, too.” Maybe Julie was inside, under the cover....

He jammed the binoculars back in the case and gave Yukon his head. He knew the big bay would head for Gertie and Ned.

Within a few minutes, they were riding up to the wagon. Once again Tyler all but threw himself to the ground. He could sense John right behind him as they were both drawn forward by the frantic quality of Mele’s voice.

“Over here,” she called. “Thank God you came. Hurry, I think he’s dying.”

They found her on her knees. Andy lay on the ground in front of her and she was holding a blood-soaked cloth against his chest. His face was as chalky white as September dust.

“I was afraid to leave him to come for help,” she said, looking up at them with anxious eyes.

John immediately knelt beside her. “I’ve had some training,” he said. “Let me take over.”

Tyler climbed into the wagon as Mele moved her hands. “Where are Julie and the doctor?” he asked right before he saw a puddle of blood on the seat. Under the seat was Dr. Marquis’ medical bag, but it had taken at least one of the bullets and the contents were now broken and leaking. Tyler took the ranch medical kit out from under the wagon cover and handed it down to Mele, his stomach rolling like the ocean.