Montana Refuge (8 page)

Andy was in the front of the wagon, hooking up the horses, two big Belgium palominos named Ned and Gertie who took care of all the wagon duties on the ranch. Tyler stopped to lend a hand. “I need you to drive the team,” he told Andy as he fastened the harness on Gertie.

“Me? What about Rose? She can do it. I’m assigned to help three of the guests.”

“We’ll have to share the load. Mom is sitting this one out.”

“Who’s going to cook? Me?” Andy asked, his silver gaze darting around the yard as though looking for an exit.

“No, you’re just the driver,” Tyler assured him as he looked up to see Julie trotting across the yard toward the wagon, buttoning her jacket as she ran. Her hair flew out behind her and caught the morning light like a raven’s wing. “That’s the cook.”

Andy glanced over his shoulder. “Julie? I wondered why she was back. Are you and her—”

“No,” Tyler said. “There is no me and her.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

Andy finished his job and looked Tyler in the eye. “I’ve been here a long time, boss. I remember when you brought that little gal home after you was hitched. I never saw two people so into each other. Really surprised me when she upped and left.”

“Sometimes things just don’t work out,” Tyler said. “You know that. You were married once, right?”

“Long time ago. But me and her was never as close as you and Julie were. My Lily wanted a whole different life.”

Tyler didn’t respond although the truth was that was exactly what Julie wanted, too. Ten minutes of passion in the straw wasn’t going to change any of that.

“Let’s get this show on the road,” he said instead, and patting Gertie’s golden neck, walked around to the back of the wagon where he found Julie studying the contents of the cabinet while gathering her hair into a high ponytail. She looked up as he approached.

There was something about her eyes. Dark brown like the finest chocolate or the richest coffee, they were set slightly slanted in her face making her look as though she knew a secret of some kind, something juicy and sexy, something he wanted to know. She looked at him that way now and it just about split his heart in two pieces or maybe it was the fatigue he also saw on her face, the smudges under her eyes...

She’d come to him for help and what had he done? Punished her. Turned on her. Tried to make love to her.

She cleared her throat and met his gaze. “I know my still being here is awkward and that coming along on the cattle drive is the last thing you wanted—”

“Or that you wanted,” he said.

“I couldn’t say no to her.”

“Do you think she’s really sick?”

“She’s sure acting out of character. I don’t know what to think.”

“I don’t either.” He looked down at the ground to get a breather from those eyes, and then back. “Tell me the truth. Did you put her up to this so you could run away from your other problems?”

“You make it sound as if my ‘problems’ were a matter of late rent or something, and not fighting for my life.”

He dipped his head a little, a gesture it was clear she understood implied doubt, for her eyes flashed. But when she spoke, her voice sounded resigned. “I’m sorry. I swore I was going to leave you out of this. The answer to your question is no, I am not in cahoots with Rose.”

“I just wanted to know. I mean two days ago she was running around here barking out orders as usual and now she’s sitting in that room of hers like she’s a sick animal tucked into a cave. How could it happen that fast?”

Julie touched his arm. “She’s got lots of people here to help her if she needs it and besides, everyone gets sick once in a while, right?”

He looked down at her fingers on his sleeve and wished he could touch her. Oh, hell, he wished so many things when it came to her.

“Tyler, have there been any small crimes around the ranch lately?”

He felt like she’d taken a shot at him. What was going on? “What do you mean?”

“Thefts, maybe...break-ins...” she hedged.

“Did someone steal something from you?”

“No. I don’t have anything to steal.”

“Then what are you talking about?”

“I was just wondering. Listen, forget it. Let’s just try to stay out of each other’s way, and get through this trip, okay?”

He handed her the menu list he’d found by the phone. If she could be businesslike, so could he. “It’s a deal,” he said. “Rose got everything ready yesterday, so you’re good to go. I want you and Andy to take off as soon as you can, so you can make the river camp and get things set up. Today will be a short ride to get everyone acclimated, so we’ll join you midafternoon. We’ve got a couple of avid fly fishermen on the ride, so maybe there will be trout for dinner.”

“Same camp as before?”

“Same camp. Andy went up with me last week to check things over—he knows the way.”

He knew that she knew the way, too. He wondered if she remembered the last time they’d ridden out there together, the night they’d spent...

Probably not.

Probably better that way.

Chapter Six

They left within the hour, Julie taking the time to run back to her cabin and call Nora. She couldn’t stand the thought of her friend worrying about her for several days on top of her concerns for her brother and the stress of the long hours she worked. And she wanted to hear what conclusions Trill had reached the night before.

Nora didn’t answer her phone, which was highly unusual as the thing was always on her body somewhere, tucked into a pocket or a handbag, connected to a headset if she was driving. She lived in constant fear she wouldn’t be there for George when she needed to be. It was the main reason Julie did her best to call when Nora wasn’t working because she always took her calls.

But not this time. This time the phone just rang four or five times and switched to voice mail. Julie gave a quick hearty hello and told Nora she’d be out of touch for a week and not to worry. And then she left cabin eight and went to work.

First, she acquainted herself with the supplies and ran numerous trips between the wagon and the house to ask Rose for last-minute instructions. She found a pot of beans soaking in the wagon so they’d be ready to cook later in the day, and all the usual perishables stuffed into iceboxes. Way back when, cowboys existed on beans and corn bread and whatever they could tote in a wagon—good, substantial food to be sure, but not real fancy. This trip, however, was a vacation as well as a job, and someone spending thousands of dollars expected a delicious meal at the start and finish of every day.

Julie knew from experience that Tyler had already rounded up most of the herd, but there were always last-minute details to attend to before the two hundred or so cows and calves would start the trip up into the mountains. They would follow far behind the chuck wagon to minimize dust settling on food and stores. Wranglers would help the novices get used to their horses and the rigors of the trail, but today was a purposefully slow day so as not to overtax anyone. Frankly, the pace was always pretty slow. Calves could not move that fast and the horses needed respect as well.

Groups of guests and wranglers would trade positions as the drive continued, riding drag at the back of the herd for a while, then taking on the flanks. The cows always seemed to know exactly where they were going. Tyler stressed that herding them was really just a matter of troubleshooting problems while letting them find the easiest route with a little guidance around the edges.

She’d made a human head count before they left. The menu for the night was relatively easy, but she’d been cooking for one person—herself—for the last year and her taste ran more along the line of broiled fish and steamed vegetables. No way around it, cooking rib-sticking food for almost twenty people was going to be a stretch.

She’d met all of the guests as they delivered what personal items they wanted transported that wouldn’t fit in their saddlebags including their assigned bedrolls. As the wagon rumbled along the trail to the first campsite, Julie attempted to connect the names with the faces in her mind.

There was the woman with the accent riding Snowflake, the white mare with the gray nose—Meg, no last name, please. Then there was Dr. Rob Marquis, a late arrival who appeared unaffected by a night camped out in an airport. The lawyer from Boston was named Red Sanders. Two cherubic-looking brothers from either Iowa or Idaho—she couldn’t remember which—named Nigel and Vincent Cresswell. Carol and Rick Taylor were a friendly repeating husband-wife duo Julie remembered meeting three or four years back and were traveling with their grown son, Bobby. Then there were a group of three women, all secretaries at the same brokerage firm on Wall Street—Sherry, Mary and Terry. The odds of keeping their names straight were astronomical, but as they appeared to travel in a pack, it shouldn’t be a problem.

That left John Smyth whom she’d met the night before and who had apparently delivered his bedroll when she was on one of her forays up to the house. It was hard not to speculate about the man. Was it possible he had searched her cabin? And if he hadn’t, had he seen anyone else hanging around the cabins? She had to find a way to get him alone and ask him without involving Tyler. He’d look apoplectic when she brought up possible crime that morning and she was determined not to involve him again.

And now, here she was, sitting beside a fifty-eight-year-old grizzled cowboy with a shotgun at his feet and a six-shooter strapped to his waist. His saddled horse was tethered with a line hooking her halter to the back of the wagon. Julie almost wished Roger Trill would show up—let’s see how a city cop handled the odds out here.

Andy seemed to sense she was looking at him. He grinned at her as he grabbed his thermos out from under the seat. “Boss says you and he are done,” he said as the wagon dipped in a rut.

Julie took the thermos as Andy used both hands to guide the team. She hadn’t expected Tyler to talk about her with his men. “Yeah,” she finally said, staring toward the horizon as they traveled the worn trail through green pastures. Tiny pink wildflowers carpeted a meadow off to the left; a hawk flew circles overhead, its high-pitched call suggesting there was a nest nearby. Julie took a deep breath and for a second, it was hard to believe she’d ever been gone.

“Do me a favor, missy. Pour me a cup of that coffee, will you?”

“You still take your own thermos on horseback?” she said, amused.

“Sure. I been riding Shasta so long she knows when I grab for the thermos, her job is to move real smooth. Easier in a wagon, ain’t it, Ned?”

The bigger of two gold horses tossed his head as though he’d understood Andy’s comment and was agreeing.

Julie did her best to pour the coffee without spilling it. The thermos was large and old, maybe an antique, the cylinder dented from repeated falls or kicks or whatever...but the coffee that poured forth was steaming-hot and black as tar. She handed the hot cup to Andy as he bunched the reins in one hand.

“Grab yourself a mug and join me,” he said, lifting the cup.

“No, thanks,” she said as she screwed the top on.

“You ask me, he still misses you,” Andy said after trying a sip and sighing with pleasure.

“Who misses who?” Julie asked.

“The boss. He misses you. Have to admit when I saw you last night I thought maybe you’d come back for good. You was the best thing that happened to this ranch. It was different after you left.”

She looked at him again, stunned by all these revelations.

“Sure hope you think twice ’bout leaving again,” he said and then held up the cup. “Okay, I know this ain’t none of my business. Get bored sitting here in a wagon.”

“I thought you were slated to help Rose.”

“Not with the driving. Heck, she can handle a team as good as anyone. I planned on helping her once we’re at camp, that’s all. Like being on a horse a whole lot better.”

“Then finish your coffee and stop the wagon,” she said.

He did as she asked. She screwed the empty cup back onto the thermos, handed it to Andy, then jumped out and came around to his side, pausing to greet the horses as she passed in front of them. “Move over,” she said, gazing up at Andy, and he did as she asked, reaching down to lend her a hand to climb back aboard.

“Teach me how to do this and then you won’t have to babysit me,” she said.

He flashed her another grin. “Now, missy, that ain’t a bad idea, no sirree. Just coax ’em on with a gentle word or two and flip the reins easylike and they’ll get going. They know what they have to do.”

Julie did as directed and the team took off again. By the time they’d traveled another two or three miles, she was getting the hang of it, and by the time they’d made ten, Andy had relocated to Shasta and was riding alongside the wagon, issuing orders as needed, the disreputable thermos tucked back into his saddlebag where just the red top showed. The only rough spot came when the trail veered at a sharp angle that tilted the wagon and Julie spent a fair amount of time hanging on for dear life, hoping the horses knew what they were doing—and discovering they did.

They made the first campsite about two in the afternoon. All the camps on this ride were on Hunt ranchland except for the one two days out that crossed another rancher’s land. Pains had been taken to stock each camp with necessities for the guests when possible, things like extra fishing rods, straw bales and bow and arrows for target practice. The aim, Julie knew, was to merge the spirit of a cattle drive with the comfort of a vacation, hence Rose always insisted as much be done the old-fashioned way as possible.

Because they used this camp off and on during the summer months for various trail rides originating from the Hunt ranch, it was an especially pretty one, situated as it was on a lovely piece of the river where breezes kept insects at bay and the rustling of overhead branches provided both shade and protection. The cows and horses would have to cross the river, but they’d do it upstream a ways where there were no rapids and the water was a good deal more shallow.

“Tyler and me drug the fireboxes out a couple of weeks ago,” Andy said, gesturing at a duo of four-sided steel boxes each about six-feet long. He unhooked the team of horses as he added, “We brought up a load of straw bales then, too. I’ll start hauling them out of the lean-to for people to sit on as soon as I get Ned and Gertie settled over yonder. There’s firewood stacked between them two trees.”