Montana Sky (16 page)

“You're not giving yourself or your audience enough credit.” Adam flicked his gaze toward the trees, scanned.

“Maybe not, but . . .” Tess trailed off as a movement caught her eye. “There's something back there in the trees. Something moved.”

“Yes, I know. It's upwind. I can't smell it.” Casually, he laid his hand on the butt of his rifle.

“Bears are hibernating now, right?” Tess moistened her lips and tried not to think of a man and a knife. “It wouldn't be a bear.”

“Sometimes they wake up. Why don't you start heading home? I'll take a look.”

“You can't go up there alone.” Instinct made Lily reach over, grab his reins. At the abrupt movement his horse shied and kicked up snow. “You can't. It could be anything. It could be—”

“Nothing,” he said calmly, and soothed his horse. A few innocent flakes danced into the air. He didn't think they'd stay innocent for long. “But it's best to see.”

“Lily's right.” Shivering, Tess kept her eyes trained on the tree line. “And it's starting to snow. Let's just go. Right now.”

“I can't do that.” Adam locked his dark, quiet eyes on Lily's. “It's probably nothing.” He knew better by the way his horse was beginning to quiver beneath him, but kept his voice easy. “But a man was killed barely a mile from here. I have to see. Now head back, and I'll catch up with you. You know the way.”

“Yes, but—”

“Please, do this for me. I'll be right behind you.”

Knowing she was useless in an argument, Lily turned her horse.

“Stay together,” Adam told Tess, then rode toward the tree line.

“He'll be all right.” Her teeth threatened to chatter as Tess made the reassurance. “Hell, Lily, it's probably a squirrel.” Too much movement for a squirrel, she thought.
“Or a moose or something. We'll have to tease him about saving the womenfolk from a marauding moose.”

“And what if it's not?” Lily's quiet southern voice fractured like glass. “What if the police and everyone are wrong and whoever killed that man is still here?” She stopped her horse. “We can't leave Adam alone.”

“He's the one with the gun,” Tess began.

“I can't leave him alone.” Quaking at the prospect of defying an order, Lily nonetheless turned and started back.

“Hey, don't—oh, hell. This'll make a dandy scene in a script,” Tess muttered, and trotted after her. “You know, if he shoots us by mistake, we're going to be really sorry.”

Lily only shook her head and, veering off the road, started into the hills, following Adam's tracks. “You know how to get back if you had to ride quickly?”

“Yeah, I think, but—Christ, this is insane. Let's just—”

The gunshot split the air and echoed like thunder. Before Tess could do more than cling to her skittish horse, Lily was galloping headlong into the trees.

 

N
ATE DIDN
'
T COME ALONE
.
BEN DROVE UP BEHIND HIM
. with his sister-in-law and his niece. Shelly came into the house chattering and immediately began unwrapping the baby.

“I should have called, I know, but when Ben said he was coming by I just grabbed Abigail and jumped into the rig. We've been dying for company. I know you've got business to tend to, but Abby and I can visit with Bess while you're talking. I hope you don't mind.”

“Of course I don't. It's good to see you.”

It was always good to see Shelly, with her happy chatter and sunny smile. She was, Willa had always thought, perfect for Zack. They meshed like butter on popcorn, both lively and entertaining.

With the baby happily kicking on the sofa, Shelly peeled off her hat and fluffed her sunny blond hair. The short, sassy cut suited her pixie face and petite build, and her eyes were the color of fog in the mountains.

“Well, I didn't give Ben much choice, but I swear I'll stay out of your way until you've finished.”

“Don't be silly. I haven't been able to play with the baby in weeks. And she's grown so. Haven't you, sweetheart?” Indulging herself, Willa lifted Abby and hefted her high over her head. “Her eyes are turning green.”

“She's going to have McKinnon eyes,” Shelly agreed. “You'd think she'd have the gratitude to take after me a bit, since I'm the one who carried her around for nine months, but she looks just like her pa.”

“I don't know, I think she's got your ears.” Willa brought Abby close to kiss the tip of her nose.

“Do you?” Shelly perked up immediately. “You know she's sleeping right through the night already. Only five months old. After all the horror stories I heard about teething and walking the floor, I figured I'd—” She held up both hands as if to signal herself to stop. “There I go, and I promised I'd stay out of the way. Zack says I could talk the bark off a tree.”

“Zack'll talk you blind,” Ben put in. “Surprises me that with the two of you as parents, Abby didn't pop out talking.” He reached out to tweak the baby's cheek and grinned at Willa. “She's a pretty handful, isn't she?”

“And sweet-natured, which proves she isn't all McKinnon.” With some regret, Willa passed the cooing baby back to her mother. “Bess is back in the kitchen, Shelly. I know she'd love to see you and Abby.”

“I hope you have time for a little visit when you're done, Will.” Shelly laid a hand on Willa's arm. “Sarah wanted to come by, too, but she couldn't get away. We've been thinking about you.”

“I'll be down soon. Maybe you can talk Bess into parting with some of the pie she's been making for supper. Everything's up in the office,” she added to the others, and started upstairs.

“You understand this is just for form's sake, Will,” Nate began. “Just so there's no question about adhering to the terms of the will.”

“Yeah, no problem.” But her back was stiff as she led the way into the office.

“Didn't see your sisters around.”

“They're out riding with Adam,” Willa told him, moving behind the desk. “I don't imagine they'll be out too much longer. Hollywood's blood's too thin for her to handle the cold for more than an hour or so.”

Nate sat, stretched out his legs. “So, I see you two are still getting along beautifully.”

“We stay out of each other's way.” She handed him a record book. “It works well enough.”

“It's going to be a long winter.” Ben eased a hip onto the edge of the desk. “You two ought to think about making peace, or just shooting each other to get it done.”

“The second part doesn't seem quite fair. She wouldn't know the difference between a Winchester and a posthole digger.”

“I'll have to teach her,” was Nate's comment as he scanned figures. “Things all right around here otherwise?”

“Well enough.” Unable to sit, Will pushed away from the desk. “From what I can tell, the men are convinced that whoever killed Pickles is long gone. The police haven't been able to prove any different. No signs, no weapon, no motive.”

“Is that what you think?” Ben asked her.

She met his eyes. “That's what I want to think. And that's what I'll have to think. It's been three weeks.”

“That doesn't mean you should let your guard down,” Ben murmured, and she inclined her head.

“I've no intention of letting my guard down. In any area.”

“Everything here looks in perfect order to me.” Nate passed the record book to Ben. “All things considered, you've had a good year.”

“I expect the next will be even better.” She paused. She didn't clear her throat, but she wanted to. “I'm going to be sowing natural grasses come spring. That was something Pa and I disagreed on, but I figure there's a reason for what grows native to this area, so we're going back to it.”

Intrigued, Ben flicked a glance at her. He'd never known her to talk about change when it came to Mercy. “We did that at Three Rocks more than five years ago, with good results.”

She looked at Ben again. “I know it. And once we're reseeding, we'll be rotating more often. No more than three weeks per pasture.” Pacing now, she didn't notice that Ben set the book aside to study her. “I'm not as concerned as Pa was with producing the biggest cattle. Just the best. Past few years we've had a lot of trouble at birthing time with oversized calves. It might change the profit ratio at first, but I'm thinking long term.”

She opened the thermos she'd left on the desk and poured coffee, though it was no more than lukewarm by now. “I've talked to Wood about the cropland. He's had some ideas about it that Pa wasn't keen on. But I think it's worth some experimenting. We've got a little more than six hundred acres cultivated for small grains, and I'm going to give Wood control of them. If it doesn't work, it doesn't, but Mercy can carry some experimentation for a year or two. He wants to build a silo. We'll ferment our own alfalfa.”

She shrugged. She knew what some would say about the changes, and her interest in crops and silos and her other plans to ask Adam to increase the string of horses: She was forgetting the cattle, forgetting that Mercy had been pure for generations.

But she wasn't forgetting anything. She was looking ahead.

She set her cup down. “Do either of you, in your supervisory capacity, have a problem with my plans?”

“Can't say that I do.” Nate rose. “But then, I'm not a cattleman. I think I'll go on down and see if there's pie, leave you two to discuss this.”

“Well?” Willa demanded when she faced Ben alone.

“Well,” he echoed, and picked up her cup. “Damn, Will, that's cold.” He winced as he swallowed it down. “And stale.”

“I didn't ask your opinion on the coffee.”

He stayed where he was, sitting on the edge of the desk,
and leveled his eyes to hers. “Where'd all these ideas come from?”

“I've got a brain, don't I? And an opinion.”

“True enough. I've never heard you talk about changing so much as a blade of grass around here. It's curious.”

“There wasn't any point talking about it. He wasn't interested in what I thought or had to say. I've done some studying up,” she added, and stuck her hands in her pockets. “Maybe I didn't go to college like you, but I'm not stupid.”

“I never thought you were. And I never knew you wanted to go to college.”

“It doesn't matter.” With a sigh, she walked to the window and stared out. Storm's coming, she thought. Those first pretty flecks of white were only the beginning. “What matters is now, and tomorrow and next year. Winter's planning time. Figuring-things-out time. I'm starting to plan, that's all.” She went stiff when his hands came down on her shoulders.

“Easy. I'm not going to jump you.” He turned her to face him. “If it matters, I think you're on the mark.”

It did matter, and that was a surprise in itself. “I hope you're right. I've been getting calls from the vultures.”

He smiled a little. “Developers?”

“Bastards jumped right in. They'd give me the moon and the sun to sell the land so they can break it up, make a fancy resort or fucking vanity ranches for Hollywood cowboys.” If she'd had fangs, they would have been gleaming. “They'll never get their fat fingers on a single acre of Mercy land while I'm standing on it.”

Automatically he began to knead her shoulders. “Sent them off scalded, did you, darling?”

“One called just last week. Told me to just call him Arnie. I told him I'd see him skinned and staked out for the coyotes if he set a foot on my property.” The corner of her lip quirked. “I don't think he'll be coming by.”

“That's the way.”

“Yeah. But the other two.” She turned, looked out again at the snow and the hills and the land. “I don't think they understand yet just how much money's involved, what those
jackasses'll pay to get hold of a ranch like this. Hollywood, she'll figure it out sooner or later. And then . . . they've got me two to one, Ben.”

“The will holds the land for ten years.”

“I know what it said. But things change. With enough money and enough pressure they could change quicker.” And ten years was nothing, she thought, in the grand scheme of things. Her grand scheme to turn Mercy into not
one
of the best but
the
best. “I can't buy them out after the year's up. I've figured it every way it can be figured, and I just can't. There's money, sure, but most of it's in the land and on the hoof. When the year's up, they'll own two-thirds to my one.”

“No point worrying over what can't be changed, or what may or may not happen.” He stroked a hand down her hair once, then a second time. “Maybe what you need is a distraction. Just a little one.”

He turned her again, then shook his head. “Don't go shying off. I've been thinking a lot about this since the first time.” He touched his lips to hers, a teasing brush. “See? That didn't hurt anything.”

Her lips were vibrating, but she couldn't claim it was painful. “I don't want to get all started up again. There's too much going on for distractions.”

“Darling.” He leaned down, toyed with her lips again. “That's just when you need them most. And I'm willing to bet this makes us both feel a lot better.”

His eyes stayed open and on hers as he gathered her close, as he lowered his head, rubbed lip to lip. “It's working for me already,” he murmured, then quick as lightning, deepened the kiss.

The jolt, the heat, the yearning all melded together to swim in her head, through her whole body. And she forgot, when the sensations seized her, to be worried or tired or afraid. It was easy to move into him, to press close and let everything else fall away.

And harder, much harder than she'd anticipated, to pull back and remember.