Morning Light (9 page)

“So essentially you're saying it's not likely.” His brow furrowed in a thoughtful frown. “Really? You never mentioned that.” Another silence. “Interesting. But you couldn't be sure?” He nodded. “Yeah, true enough. So what's your conclusion?” He finally nodded and said, “Thanks, bro. I'll catch you later.”

He snapped the phone closed and clipped it back on his belt. “My brother. He can't say if you actually heard wolves or not. He did relate some interesting facts, though. While on a trail ride in that area last fall, he saw tracks he thought might be wolf, but they could just as easily have been those of a large dog. It's hard to tell the difference unless you're a trained tracker, which he's not, and hikers do take dogs with them along the trails.

“That said, a dead wolf—roadkill, evidently—was found along the highway outside Burns a couple of years ago. Another radio-collared wolf, a black female, crossed the Snake River into the northeastern part of the state. The authorities transported her back to Idaho, and she was found dead sometime after that. He can't remember if the carcass was recovered in Oregon or across the state line. I guess a couple of other wolves have also crossed over and met with untimely ends, one illegally shot.”

Loni raised her chin. “If you're going to doubt every word I say, Mr. Harrigan, I can't be of much help to you.”

“I'm a doubting Thomas. I told you that. You say you heard wolves. To my knowledge there are none in Oregon. Naturally I'm going to check it out.”

“And now that you have…?”

“I can't rule out the possibility that you heard wolves.”

Loni arched an eyebrow. “So what do you plan to do about it?”

“It's not what
I'm
going to do, Ms. MacEwen, but what
we
are going to do.”

“We?” she echoed. “As I said earlier, my going with you is a crazy idea.”

“Not so crazy, if you think about it. The kid's on the move. You said so yourself. I'll never find him without your help.”

“That isn't how it works. I've told you all I know. The rest is up to you.”

He shook his head. “Do you have any idea how large that area is—or how far a child might walk in one day? You have to go along to help me pinpoint his location.”

“You don't understand.” Loni tried to think of a way to explain. “I can't summon the visions. They just happen. If I went with you, there's no guarantee I'd see anything more.”

“I'll take my chances. You've been seeing the kid and his dog today. Right?”

“Yes, but…I've never even been in a wilderness area.”

“I have. No worries on that count.”

“And just like that, I'm supposed to go with you? I know next to nothing about you, Mr. Harrigan. Smart women don't take off alone into the wilderness with strangers.”

“Look in your crystal ball and get to know me real fast then.”

“I don't have a crystal ball, and I resent your implying that I might.”

“Look into the future then; see if I'm going to murder you the first time you turn your back on me.”

“I can't look into the future at will, either.” Loni clenched her teeth. She pried them apart to add, “I really don't appreciate the sarcasm. Do you think that will convince me you're trustworthy?”

“That child's life is on the line. I'll also point out that I'm prepared to trust
you.
And that's not an easy thing for me. I've been a skeptic all my life, and now I'm trying to rearrange my whole way of thinking.”

“I've never even gone camping,” Loni confessed.

An expression of sheer amazement flickered over his face. “Never?”

“I was raised in the Seattle area. My dad's a banker. My mom's a horticulturist. He loves tennis, and she's into long-distance bicycling. As a family we only ever did city stuff—going on bike rides, playing tennis, visiting museums, shopping along the waterfront. The closest we came to camping was one summer when my folks rented a cabin at the lake for a couple of weeks.”

“We'll work it out. I can't promise you the Hilton, but if we take enough pack animals in with us, I can at least make sure you're reasonably comfortable.”

“Pack animals?” she echoed.

“Horses.”

“
Horses
? You expect me to ride a horse?”

“Yes, unless you prefer to walk. With horses we can take enough supplies to last us at least a week. Searchers on foot can venture only so far from base camp before turning back. We'll be able to push deeper because we'll have our food and camping gear with us.”

“Horses?”
Loni echoed again. She'd never been within arm's reach of an equine. “I'm sorry, Mr. Harrigan. I don't ride.”

He gave her a measuring look. “It appears to me you have all the necessary equipment. I'll teach you the rest.” When Loni hesitated, he added, “Do you want to save this child or not?”

“Of course I want to save him.”

Loni thought of Trevor's tear-streaked face, his lips blue from the cold. If there was a chance, however slim, that she might help Clint Harrigan find the boy, how could she say no? As Gram had pointed out last night, Loni had the proceeds from the sale of her Washington home to keep her afloat financially until she got her shop open for business. A delay of a few days wouldn't send her into bankruptcy.

Reaching a snap decision, she said, “All right, I'll go with you. Just understand from the start that I may be more trouble than I'm worth.”

She hurried into the kitchen to phone her sister, who would have to look after Hannah during her absence. Fortunately Deirdre had a key to the house and could pick up the dog after Loni had left.

“You're going to
what
?” Deirdre cried.

“I'm going with Mr. Harrigan into the Shoshone Wilderness Area. He hopes I can help pinpoint Trevor's location.”

“On
horseback
? You'll get bucked off and break your neck. Have you lost your mind?”

Loni had already asked herself the same question. “Maybe, but it's something I have to do.”

After ending the call, Loni hurried to the bathroom to collect her toiletries and cosmetics, then ran to her bedroom to start packing her clothes. She nearly jumped out of her skin when Clint Harrigan spoke from directly behind her.

“Forget the suitcase. Just toss everything in a pillowcase. We'll be putting all of it into packs, anyway.” He picked up a pair of her slacks. “Don't you have any jeans?”

“Of course.” Loni held them up as evidence.

He eyed the flowers embroidered over one pocket. “And that's it, only one pair?”

“I wear jeans on the weekends sometimes. One pair is all I need.”

He grabbed one of her running shoes. “Where are your boots?”

Loni's only boots were calf-high with three-inch heels. She didn't think they were what he had in mind. “I don't have any boots. Not the right kind, anyway. I don't hike or ride horses, so all I have are fancy ones to wear with dresses or skirts.”

He stripped the case off one of her pillows and began sorting through her clothing, stuffing some of it inside, throwing other things onto a discard pile. “No worries. My sister, Samantha, is about your size. I'm sure she'll be happy to lend you some riding boots and all the clothes you'll need.”

“That's my warmest sweater,” she protested as he flung it aside.

“If it gets wet and we try to dry it near a fire, it'll melt. You need fleece, and lots of it. It's light, very warm, blocks against the wind, and air-dries fairly fast.” One of her favorite sweatshirts went on the discard pile. “That'll soak up water like a sponge. You could dry it by the fire, but it'd take two days.”

To Loni's relief he didn't linger over her lacy underwear. He just put it in the pillowcase uncontested. Her Pooh Bear nightshirt didn't pass muster, though, and when he grabbed her toiletry bag, Loni reached to rescue it.

“I'll need all of that.”

“You won't need this,” he said, holding up a tube of mascara. “Or this,” he added, plucking out a lipstick. “Bare essentials, and that's it. I can't burden my horses with anything unnecessary.”

In the end all that remained in Loni's cosmetic bag were her hairbrush, a tin of medicated lip balm, tampons, sunscreen, and her toothpaste and toothbrush. He even discarded her travel mirror.

His high-handed manner started to make Loni angry. But then she thought of the horses, which would be carrying everything on their backs, including her, and she felt ashamed for getting miffed at him. He was only looking out for his animals, and she couldn't fault him for that.

So instead of blistering his ears with a critique of his behavior, she said, “I appreciate the help. Like I said earlier, I'm a total dunce when it comes to this kind of thing.”

He angled her a sharp look; then his eyes warmed. He didn't exactly smile, but his mouth twitched at one corner. “I'm a dunce at some things myself. Riding bikes in the city, for instance. I'd probably get myself killed.”

The taut feeling in Loni's throat that always came with anger vanished almost as quickly as it came, and she laughed. “Even experienced bicyclists can get themselves killed in the Seattle area.”

“Same goes for wilderness rides.” He went back to sorting through her clothing. “If I seem pushy and overbearing, it's only because there's no time to waste. We have to reach the south trailhead tonight, grab a few hours' sleep, and start in at dawn. And trust me, packing for a wilderness trek on horses isn't anything like loading a bike. It'll take me a few hours to get our gear ready. I not only have to pack for us, but also for my animals.”

“I'll help if you'll tell me what to do.”

This time the twitch of his lips eased into a crooked grin. “Offer accepted.”

L
eaving Clint Harrigan to finish with the packing, Loni made her rounds of the house, pulling blinds and cutting the power to all the small appliances she used on a regular basis. All the other household gadgets were routinely left unplugged except when she needed them.

She was bent over and twisted awkwardly at the waist with her head behind the television when he startled her once again by speaking from directly behind her.

“You worried about fire while you're gone or something?”

Loni finished jerking the cord from the receptacle and turned to face him. He held the top of her embroidered pillowcase bunched in one fist. Not for the first time she felt a jolt of amazement to actually be standing face-to-face with him. He looked exactly as he had in her dreams, dark and ruggedly handsome, but in the flesh he had a much greater impact on her nerves, giving her a strange and purely feminine case of jitters. She had to make a concentrated effort to collect her thoughts and recall his question.

“Most appliances are energy vampires, especially this one.” She could only hope he didn't notice that her hand was shaking as she patted the television console. “This monster sucks power even when it's turned off because it's always on standby for a click of the remote control.”

She expected him to snort with disdain, the way most people did. Instead he said, “I never thought of that. How much electricity does a television use when it's turned off but still plugged in?”

“I'm not sure, but every little bit adds up.” Loni could have recited dozens of statistics, but her views on the average American's wasteful consumption of energy and natural resources didn't seem all that important compared to the peril little Trevor was in. She pushed a curly lock of hair from her eyes. “And you really shouldn't get me started. I can go on and on.”

“Sounds like a good topic of conversation for while we're on the trail. Maybe I'll learn something.”

“Or you'll be bored to distraction. Not everyone shares my interest in environmental issues.” She grabbed her blue parka from the narrow coat closet, collected her purse, then bent to give Hannah farewell pats and hugs before turning out all but one lamp so Deirdre would be able to see when she came in. “Okay, I'm ready.”

He followed her out onto the porch. As she fumbled to lock the door she was acutely aware of him standing behind her. She could have sworn she felt his warm breath stirring her hair.

As they walked toward his vehicle, his boot heels tapped the cement behind her, his pace slowing to accommodate hers. The illumination from the streetlights enabled Loni to see that the rifle was still in his truck. As he drew abreast of her near the front bumper, he hooked a thumb toward her Suburban, parked in front of the garage.

“What's a greenie doing with a gas hog like that?”

“Greenie!” she said with a laugh. “I'm not a greenie or a spotted-owl lover simply because I try to cut down on my power consumption and worry about carbon dioxide emissions. That's half the problem in this country. People are afraid to dwell too much on environmental concerns for fear of being labeled a fanatic.”

He opened the rear door on the driver's side of the Ford and tossed the pillowcase on the backseat. “I can relate to that. People call me names, too—cowboy, buckaroo, goat roper, or shit-kicker. They also assume I have no secondary education, can't understand long words, never read books, and can only dance if I'm wearing a Stetson and holding on to my belt.”

Given the fact that Loni had thought of him as her dream cowboy practically all her life, she felt a pang of guilt. “You don't like being called a cowboy?”

The brim of his Stetson shadowed his face, obscuring his expression so she couldn't tell whether he was smiling or scowling. “No better than you like being called a greenie. I'm a horseman. I suppose you could call me a buckaroo and be halfway on target.”

Loni lifted her shoulders in a bewildered shrug. “What exactly is a buckaroo?”

“I'll explain on the way. And my question still stands—why the gas hog?”

“I'm an interior decorator. I couldn't find an economical van large enough to haul all the things I need for my work.” She eyed his pickup. “And just for the record, my Suburban sips fuel compared to Big Gulp, here.” She patted the truck fender as she circled around to the passenger side. “Fair is fair. Why do you drive a tank and carry a weapon everywhere you go?”

“I discovered the hard way that I can't pull an eight-horse trailer with an economy truck. The rifle is for emergencies I pray will never happen.”

“On your ranch?”

“That's right. When I was teenager one of my father's stallions tried to jump a fence to reach a mare and impaled itself on a post.”

Loni winced. “Oh, my, how horrible.”

“It was horrible, all right, and only made worse when my dad had to run all the way back to the house for a rifle to put the poor critter out of its misery. I've made sure I have a weapon handy ever since.”

The picture that formed in Loni's mind made her stomach clench. “The poor stallion,” was all she could think to say.

He opened his door just as she opened hers. She watched him swing up onto the seat by catching hold of a ceiling grip, but she was too short to reach the one on her side.
Problem.
There was no running board for her to step up on, and the vehicle was jacked up off the ground higher than her hip. To complicate matters, in the dim light she could see junk piled ankle-deep on the floorboard.

He closed his door and glanced over at her. “Something wrong?”

“I forgot my stilts.”

He extended a hand to her. Loni clasped his hard fingers and hiked up one leg to brace her foot on the door runner. The next instant she catapulted into the cab and almost landed on the center console.

“Oops,” he said as she caught her balance and plopped on the passenger seat. “Sorry about that. You're a lot lighter than you look.”

Lighter than she looked?
What a charmer.
Loni wondered if the five pounds she'd gained while redecorating the house and renovating her shop had all settled on her hips. Too much fast food, no time to work out. She was one of those unfortunate people who constantly struggled to stay trim.

She bent forward over her parted knees to scoop up items from her purse, which had somehow slipped from her shoulder and spilled onto the floorboard while she was airborne. Her searching fingers met with countless items not belonging to her: greasy wrenches, ropes, oily rags, strips of leather, pieces of straw, and oddly shaped metal things she couldn't identify in the shadows. While her head was still pressed against the glove box, the truck rumbled to life, the roar of the diesel engine almost deafening, the vibration of the dash rattling her teeth.

When she sat back to fasten her seat belt, she couldn't help but smile. Her dream cowboy? She'd obviously misinterpreted the meaning of her dreams. Clint Harrigan was her exact opposite. She was a fanatic about keeping her vehicle tidy; his was a total wreck. She was passionate about energy conservation and protecting the environment; he'd never even thought about it much. She liked him well enough so far, but she honestly couldn't imagine the two of them ever being anything more than friends.

In no time at all they would drive each other crazy.

Three hours later Clint was ready to head out. He'd decided to take eight horses, two to carry riders and light packs, another pair to carry his and Loni's gear and supplies, and four more to pack in enough feed to last a week. The equines would be working hard, and if there was little grass available along the trail for grazing, each horse would require fifteen to twenty pounds of cubed alfalfa a day.

Even by taking along four pack animals to carry only the feed, Clint would be exceeding the recommended weight load per horse by twenty pounds the first day. Fortunately the alfalfa would dwindle rapidly, until the four extra horses would be carrying almost nothing toward the end of the trip.

That would be good. Clint expected to be traveling over rugged terrain much of the time, possibly well away from the beaten path. The four lightly worked horses could be used to spell those carrying heavier loads, affording all the animals intermittent rest periods along the way.

Mentally going over his checklist to be sure he had forgotten nothing, Clint angled across the stable yard toward his truck, which he'd left running with the heater on high to keep his psychic search partner warm while he took care of last-minute details. As he passed the horse trailer he noticed a tire that looked low.
Great.
If it wasn't one thing it was another.

He lowered the tailgate of the Ford, vaulted up into the bed, and pawed through the maze of paraphernalia and gear until he found the portable air compressor and a tire gauge. After plugging the compressor into a special outlet he'd had installed behind the left wheel well, he jumped back to the ground and crouched to inflate the tire. Only, no sooner had he let loose with a blast of air than the truck engine died.

Now what?
Like he needed vehicle trouble to cap off an already exhausting night? Muttering curses, he strode the length of the truck, jerked open the driver's door, and leaned in to restart the engine. To his surprise he found the ignition key turned off. He angled a puzzled look at Loni.

“Did you just cut the engine?”

In the glow of the yard light her big blue eyes glistened. “Yes. If you're going to leave a vehicle for more than thirty seconds, you waste less fuel if you turn off the engine and restart it when you return.”

Clint bit down hard on his back teeth. He was tired, both mentally and physically. It was no easy task to prepare for a wilderness ride, and he hated doing it in a rush. If he forgot something important, it could result in disaster—not only for him and Loni, but also for his horses.

“I
need
the truck to be running right now,” he said slowly, making a concentrated effort not to raise his voice.

“Oh.” She lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “Sorry. I didn't realize.”

Over the course of the evening Clint had come to understand that there was a host of things this lady didn't realize. She seemed to be frightened of the horses, yet she took stupid risks, stepping too close behind them and compounding the offense by speaking without first letting the horse know she was there. That was a very good way to get kicked. He was going to have his hands full making sure she didn't get hurt. Fortunately the eight horses he'd chosen for the journey were used every year for trail riding and were pretty much bulletproof.

“I'm trying to air up a trailer tire.” He'd long since lost track of how many things he'd had to explain to her. She understood none of the terms that came second nature to him. “The compressor runs off DC power. The engine needs to be running in order for it to work.”

A few minutes later, when Clint got in the truck, Loni was huddled against her door and didn't look over at him. He wondered what she was pissed about but decided not to ask. The silence was a relief, allowing him to think without interruption.

As he drove out to the main road, he mentally went back over his packing list. Had he remembered the Banamine, in case a horse got colic? Check. Penicillin for possible infections? Check. Pack saw? Check. Small ax? Check. Space blankets? Check. Gel pads for Loni's saddle? Check. Hooter's miracle salve, in case she got saddle sores anyway? Check. Cowbells? Check. A first-aid kit for the horses? Check. A first-aid kit for humans? Check. The portable cell phone charger, adaptors, and double-A batteries? Check.

“The wolves are back.”

Clint lost his thought and scowled at her. “What?”

“The wolves,” she said thinly. “They're back, and they sound closer tonight. Nana didn't growl the last time, but she's growling now.”

A prickle of unease crawled up the back of Clint's neck. She stared straight ahead, a distant look in her eyes. It was eerie.

“Are you there with them right now?” Clint could almost hear the theme song for
Twilight Zone
playing in his head.

“No. I wouldn't be talking to you if I were.”

“I see.”

“I was with them while you were airing up the tire, though.”

Now he understood her silent withdrawal when he'd climbed into the cab. “You okay?” It was all he could think to say.

“Yes,” she said softly. “But Trevor is afraid to close his eyes.”

Clint thought he saw tears in hers, and an odd tightness moved into his throat. She was totally serious. A part of him still wanted to believe it was all a sham, that he'd catch her in a lie sooner or later. He wasn't sure why it was so difficult for him to simply buy her story, but it was.

She fixed him with a frightened gaze. “Will they hurt him, do you think?”

“The wolves?” The tightness in his throat grew more pronounced. “I don't think you should worry about that. We're not even sure there are wolves out there.”