Montana Sky (42 page)

She stepped forward, just one step, toward Adam. “But then I crawled out into the sunlight, and you were there. You were there when I needed you most. And I knew you would be.”

Purged, she walked over, poured a glass of water for herself. “I'm sorry I shouted at all of you. I know everything you've done was out of concern. But I need to take my life back now. I need to go on.”

“You should've yelled sooner.” Composed again, Tess rose. “You're right, Lily. You're absolutely right about all of it. I got carried away planning things for you. I'm sorry. I'd have hated being shoved to the background this way.”

“It's all right. It's been a bad habit of mine to let myself be shoved. And I might ask for help planting the rest of the garden.”

“Maybe I should plant my own. I didn't know I'd like it so much. I'll be downstairs.” She started out, shot a telling glance at Willa.

“If you want to start taking things back,” Willa said, nudging the papers with her foot. “You can start by picking these up and getting them out of here.” She smiled. “I don't like hunting up printed cocktail napkins.”

Taking a chance, she grasped Lily's shoulders, leaned in close so that her whisper could be heard. “He'd have crawled through hell if that's what it took to get you back. Don't punish him for loving you too much.”

Easing back, she glanced at Adam. “You've got a couple hours off,” she told him, “to get your life straightened out.” Walking out, she closed the door behind her.

“I must seem ungrateful,” Lily began, but he only shook his head, so she crouched down and began to gather the papers. “I threw a vase. I've never done anything like that before. I didn't know I'd want to. It was difficult to go back to feeling unnecessary.”

“I'm sorry I made you feel that way.” He crossed to her,
gathered papers himself. He picked up the list of acceptances for the wedding, then lifted his eyes to hers. “Nothing in my life is more necessary than you, or more precious. If you want to call off the wedding . . .” No, he couldn't be patient or reasonable about this. All he could say was “Don't.”

And nothing he could have said, Lily realized, could have been more perfect. “After Tess and Will have gone to all this trouble? That would be rude.” She started to smile, nearly did, but he covered his face with his hands. Covered it, but not before she'd seen the stricken look in his eyes, and the hurt she'd put there.

“I let him take you.”

“No.”

“I thought he would kill you.”

“Adam.”

“I thought if I touched you it would make you think of it, of him.”

“No, no, Adam. Never.” So it was she who held him. “Never. Never. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. I was just so angry, so frustrated. I love you, I love you, I love you. Oh, hold me, Adam. I won't break.”

But he might. Even as his arms came around her, his grip tightened convulsively, he thought he might shatter like thin glass. “I wanted to kill him.” His voice was muffled against her throat. “I would have. And living with the wanting isn't nearly as hard as living with the fact that I didn't. And worse is living with the thought that I nearly lost you.”

“I'm here. And it's over.” When his mouth found hers, she poured herself into it, her hands soothing him as he had always soothed her. “I need you so much. And I need you to need me back.”

He framed her face. “I do. I always will.”

“I want to plant gardens with you, Adam, and raise horses, paint porches.” Cupping his face in turn, she drew his head back and said what was trembling in her heart. “I want to make children. I want to make a child with you, Adam. Today.”

Staggered, he lowered his brow to hers. “Lily.”

“It's the right time.” She lifted his hand, pressed it to her lips. “Take me home, Adam, to our bed. Make a child with me today.”

 

F
ROM THE SIDE WINDOW
.
TESS WATCHED LILY AND ADAM
walk toward the white house. It made her think of the first time she'd seen them walk together, on the day of the funeral. “Check it out,” she called to Willa.

“What?” A little impatient, Willa joined her at the window, then smiled. “That's a relief.” Moments later, the shades on the bedroom windows of the white house came down, and she grinned. “Looks like we've still got a wedding going.”

“I still want those striped umbrellas.”

“You're such a bitch.”

“Ah, that's what they all say. Will.” In a surprising move, she laid a hand on Willa's shoulder. “Are you still driving cattle up to high country tomorrow?”

“That's right.”

“I want to come.”

“Very funny.”

“No, I mean it. I can ride, and I think it might be an interesting experience, one I can use in my work. And since Adam's going, Lily should too. It's important that we stick together. It's safer that way.”

“I was going to have Adam stay behind.”

Tess shook her head. “You need people you can trust. Adam won't stay behind even if you ask him. So Lily and I go too.”

“Just what I need. A couple of greenhorns.” But she'd already thought of it herself, and had weighed the pros and cons. “The McKinnons will be moving their herd up as well. We'll take one man with us, leave Ham in charge of the rest. Better get your beauty sleep tonight, Hollywood. We ride out at dawn.”

 

T
HE ONLY THING MISSING
,
TESS THOUGHT AS SHE YAWNED
in the saddle at daybreak, was the theme from
Rawhide.
So she hummed it to herself, struggled to remember the words
that were vaguely familiar only because of the bar scene in
The Blues Brothers.

Was it “Cut 'em in” or “Head 'em out”?

“Head 'em out” was the obvious winner, as that was exactly what Willa called into the misty morning air.

It was rather magnificent, Tess mused. The sea of cattle swarming forward, the riders skimming the edges of the herd on horses fresh and eager. All of them surged through the curtain of mists, the low-lying river of fog, tearing it into delicate fingers while the sun glinted off dewy grass.

And westward, the mountains rose like gods, all silver and white.

Then Willa turned in the saddle, shouted out for Tess to move her ass. Why, Tess thought with a grin, that just completed a perfect picture. Belatedly she kicked her horse forward to catch up as the drive began.

No, something was still missing, she realized as the noise of hooves on hard-packed dirt, of braying moos, of riders clucking and calling filled the air. Nate. For once she wished he had cattle as well as horses; then maybe she'd be riding along with him.

“Don't just ride,” Willa called out as she trolled up alongside. “Keep 'em in line. You lose one, you go after it.”

“Like I could lose a big fat cow,” Tess muttered, but she tried to mimic Willa's herding whistle and the way her sister slapped her looped rope on the saddle.

Not that Tess had been given a rope, or would know what to do with one, but she used her hand, then as the hundreds of marching hooves kicked up dust, her bandanna.

“Oh, for Christ's sake.” Rolling her eyes, Willa circled back. “Not like that, you idiot. You may need that hand.” She took the bandanna from Tess, who was holding it over her nose, and after a few quick trips, leaned over to tie it on. “That's an improvement,” she decided when it was secured and hung down over half of her sister's face. “Never seen you look better.”

“Just go play trail boss.”

“I am trail boss.” With that Willa kicked Moon into a
gallop and rode to the rear of the herd to check for stragglers.

It was an experience, Tess decided. Maybe not quite like driving longhorns north from Texas or whatever cowboys had once done. But there was a kind of majesty in it, she supposed. A handful of riders controlling so many animals, driving them along past pastures where other cattle watched the procession with bored eyes, nipping potential strays back in with a quick movement of horse.

Season after season, she mused, year after year and decade after decade, in a manner that changed little. The horse was the tool here, as it had always been. A four-wheeler couldn't travel the forests, over the rivers, up and down the rocky ravines.

The pastures of the high country were rich, and so the cattle were taken up to graze on thick meadow grass, to laze through the summer and into the early fall under the wide sky with eagle and mountain sheep and each other for company.

And summer was coming, like a gift. The trees grew greener, the pines lusher, and she could hear the cheerful bubble of water moving quick and cool. Wildflowers dotted a near meadow, a surprising shower of color, teased out by the strong sun. Birds darted through the trees like arrows, over the hills like kites. And the mountains rose, creamy white at the peaks, with the deep green belt of trees darkening, and the ridges and folds that were valleys and canyons shimmering shadowlike.

“How you holding up?” Jim paced his horse beside her and made her grin. He looked as cocky and raw as anything that had ridden out of the Wild West.

“Holding. Actually it's fun.”

He winked. “Be sure to tell that to your back end at the end of the day.”

“Oh, I stopped feeling that an hour ago.” But she stretched up just to check. No, her butt was as dead as a numbed tooth. “I've never been up this high before. It's gorgeous.”

“There's a spot just up ahead. You look out thataway”—he gestured—“it's a picture.”

“How long have you been doing this, Jim? Taking the herd up in the spring?”

“For Mercy? Shit, about fifteen years, give or take.” He winked again, saw Willa riding up, and knew she'd give him the look that meant he was lollygagging. “Keeps me outta pool halls and away from wild women.” He trotted back to point, leaving Tess chuckling.

“Don't flirt with a cowboy on a drive,” Willa told her.

“We were having a short, civilized conversation. When I flirt I—oh, oh, my God.” Tess reined in her horse, looked out in the direction Jim had just indicated. Understanding, Willa stopped behind her.

“Nice view.”

“It's like a painting,” Tess whispered. “It doesn't seem real.” It couldn't be real, the way the colors and shapes, the size and scope all swept together.

The peaks shot up against the sky, tumbled down to a wide, silvery canyon where a river ran blue and trees grew thick and green. Somewhere along the way, it seemed miles to Tess, the river took a curve and vanished into rock. But before it vanished it spewed white, crashed over rock, then settled to serene.

A hawk circled in the distance, arching around and around that curving river, amid rugged rocks, under spearing silver peaks, above green trees.

“Good fishing there.” Willa leaned on her saddle horn. “People come from all over hell and back to fly-fish in this river. Me, I'm not big on it, but it's a sight to see. The way the lines dance and whip through the air, and land with barely a sound or a ripple. Farther down, around the curve, there's some wild white water. People plunk themselves in rubber rafts and have a high old time riding it. I'll stick with horses.”

“Yeah.” But Tess wondered what it would be like. It surprised her that she wondered not in cool writer's fashion but in hot, thrilling anticipation of what it would feel like to chase that river, to fly down it.

“It'll be here when we come back.” Willa turned her horse. “Montana's funny that way. It mostly stays put. Come on, we're falling behind.”

“All right.” Tess carried that view with her, along with countless others, as they drove the herd on.

The air cooled to a snap, and patches of snow appeared under the trees, around rocks. And still there were flowers, the sprawl of mountain clematis, the sassy purple of wild delphinium. A meadowlark sang a spring song.

When they stopped to rest the horses and grab a quick lunch, jackets came out of saddlebags.

“For Christ's sake, don't tie your horse.” With another roll of the eyes for the greenhorn, Willa took the reins from Tess, gave her mount an easy slap that sent it trotting away.

“What the hell did you do?” Tess took two running steps before she realized the horse would outdistance her. “Now what am I supposed to do? Walk?”

“Eat.” Willa shoved a sandwich in her face.

“Oh, fine, just fine. I'll have a little roast beef while my horse goes trotting back home.”

“He's not going far. You can't go tying your horse up around here, then wandering off to sit under a tree and have your lunch.” Then she grinned as she spotted Ben riding up. “Hey, McKinnon, haven't you got enough to do without looking for handouts?”

“Thought there might be an extra sandwich.” He slid off his horse, gave it the same absent pat as Willa had given Tess's. Speechless, Tess watched his mount mosey off.

“What are you all crazy? There won't be a horse left to ride at this rate.”

Ben took the sandwich Tess held, bit into it, and winked at Willa. “She try to tie hers up?”

“Yep. Tenderfoot.”

“You don't tie horses up in high country,” he said between bites. “Cats. Bears.”

“What are you—cats?” Eyes popping, Tess spun around in a circle, trying to look everywhere at once. “You mean mountain lions? Bears?”

“Predators.” Willa took what was left of the sandwich
from Ben, finished it off. “A horse hasn't got a chance if it's tethered. How far back's your herd, Ben?”

“About a quarter mile.”

“But—” Tess thought of her rifle that was still in her saddle holster. “What chance have
we
got?”

“Oh, fair to middling,” Ben drawled, and Willa roared with laughter.