Quinn (39 page)

“Lee knows his stuff.” Josh had worked with rangers Mitch Carver and Lee Haddon for years and was comfortable that neither of them would ask his help unless they were convinced that they had chased every lead they could.

Mitch returned to his pen tapping. “Lee found no trace of her. None of the rangers spotted her. So far she hasn’t taken advantage of any of the rest areas or campsites, though they’re all on alert to watch for her. It’s like she just vanished.”

Vanished.

Josh felt the quick little shiver that passed through him and resented the fact that even now, all these years later, the word could have this effect on him.

“Okay.” He forced himself to relax. “We know she’s somewhere on the mountain. And with the storm, she’s probably hunkered down somewhere until it’s gone. Mark all the places that Lee hiked, and I’ll chart a different route.”

Mitch handed over the map with a highlighted overlay.

Seeing Josh’s arched brow, he grinned. “After so many years, I’m pretty good at anticipating what you’ll ask for.”

Josh studied the trail taken by Lee Haddon. It was the
logical path to the area the missing hiker had indicated. That meant that she’d been sidetracked along the way, or had chosen to climb higher than she’d first planned. The latter seemed unlikely, considering the fierce storms she’d have had to deal with. But he had to consider every possibility.

He began making a mental trail of his own. Though most hikers came to these mountains once or twice in their lives, this was Josh’s home turf. He didn’t need a physical map to tell him where every peak, every dangerous dip, curve, and valley lay.

The storm, however, changed everything. Here at ground level, it was merely thunder, lightning, and heavy rain he had to contend with. If he was forced to climb to the higher elevations, that would change to snow and sleet and tremendous winds.

Josh picked up his gear and strode to the door of the ranger’s office. “I’ll be in contact.”

“I know you will.” Mitch Carver lifted his hand in a salute as the door closed.

Josh had been climbing steadily for hours. And though he’d found no trail, or even a trace of another human being, he continued on.

As he’d suspected, the rain had turned to sleet in the higher elevations, and now had turned to a bitter snow driven by an even more furious, blinding wind. It whistled up the face of the mountain, flinging a sudden spray of ice and snow in his eyes, like a slap in the face.

He needed to stop for the day and make camp. His muscles were beginning to protest the extra effort it took to climb over slick ice-and-snow-covered rock. His
fingers had long ago lost all feeling. Despite the protective glasses, his eyes burned from the constant buffeting of wind and snow.

When he arrived at a flat stretch of snow-covered space between two towering peaks, he lowered his pack and used it as a seat while he fumbled with his cell phone.

Hearing Mitch’s voice, he said, “Good. At least I have service here. I was afraid I was too high to get through.”

“You’re fading. I’ll probably lose you any second now. Any sign of our hiker?”

“Not yet. I’m at the North Ridge.”

“That high? You’ve been doing some serious climbing, my friend.”

Josh laughed. “I’m going to call it a day. Make camp here, then start a horizontal tomorrow before deciding if I want to go any higher.”

“Okay. Stay in touch.”

“You do the same.”

He tucked away his cell phone and began looking around for a spot to set up his small tent.

The wind had picked up to nearly gale force, kicking up snow in little funnels that were nearly blinding.

He blinked, wondering if his eyes were playing tricks on him. When he looked a second time, he knew that what he was seeing was real. A small white bubble tent was snugged up against a snow-covered peak, making it almost invisible. Had it not been for the extreme wind, causing the tent to shimmer with each sudden blast, it would have been impossible to see. Almost, he thought, as though it had been deliberately set up that way to deceive the eye.

At the same moment, a strange thought leaped unbidden into his mind.

Was this how his mother had been able to leave without a trace? Had she yearned for a new life, far from the demands of a husband and sons and the loneliness of ranching, using camouflage to make her escape across the mountains?

The instant the thought took form, he banished it from his mind. His memories of his mother, though distant and scattered, were happy ones. Seraphine had been a loving, though unconventional, mother. She neither cooked nor cleaned, but she had happily read to her sons and played classical music and directed them in plays and musicals for hours on end. When her boys grew weary and insisted on doing the things boys loved, playing outside or riding their ponies, she would simply take her books and music outdoors and watch them from a nearby hill.

Though she was athletic, with a lithe, sinewy dancer’s body, she never took part in any of their outdoor activities that Josh could recall. That told him that she would have never resorted to climbing these mountains.

Josh had never seen her unhappy or moody or less than exuberant about life. She would often tell her boys that, though she missed dancing onstage and receiving the adulation of the audience, she didn’t miss the gypsy lifestyle, living in dingy hotel rooms, traveling from town to town. She seemed to genuinely love being a rancher’s wife, and their mother, and had treasured the anchor of their big, comfortable home and sprawling land to call her own.

But there had never been an explanation for the fact that she vanished, without a trace. There had been only theories.

The code of silence that had descended upon her family prevented any of them from knowing just what Cole
Conway believed to be true. Did he suspect desertion by an unfaithful wife? Foul play? An alien abduction?

Josh pulled himself back from the thoughts that had plagued him for a lifetime. Forced himself back to the present, and the job at hand.

If, as he suspected, this was the tent of Sierra Moore, his task had just become a lot simpler than he’d imagined.

Josh hoped the saga of the missing climber would have a happy conclusion and by this time tomorrow he would be enjoying another helping of Ela’s corn bread.

Frog Crossing

Out West

Dear Reading Friends,

Yes, I’m a gardener and I live at Frog Crossing. In England, my original home, we tend to name our houses, and the habit lives on for me. Some say I should have gone for Toad Hall, but enough said about them.

Things magical, mystical, otherworldly, enchanting—or terrifying—have occupied my storytelling mind since I was a child. Does this have anything to do with gardening? Yes. Nighttime in a garden, alone, is the closest I can come to feeling connected to the very alive world that exists in my mind. Is it the underworld? I don’t think so. It is the otherworld, and that’s where anything is possible.

At night, in that darkness, I feel not only what I remember from the day, but all sorts of creatures moving around me and going through their personal dramas. I hear them, too. True, I’m the one pulling the strings for the action, but that’s where the stories take root, grow, and spread. This is my plotting ground.

In DARKNESS BOUND, things that fly through tall trees feature prominently. Werehound Niles Latimer and widowed, mostly human, Leigh Kelly are under attack from every quarter by fearsome elements bent on tearing them apart. If their bond becomes permanent and they produce a child, they can destroy a master plan to take control of the paranormal world.

The tale is set on atmospheric Whidbey Island in the Pacific Northwest, close to the small and vibrant town of Langley, where human eyes see nothing of the battle waged around them. But the unknowing humans play an important part in my sometimes dark, sometimes lighthearted, sometimes serious, a little quirky, but always intensely passionate story.

Welcome to DARKNESS BOUND,

Dear Reader,

Ahh. With QUINN I get to begin another family saga of love, laughter, and danger, all set on a sprawling ranch in Wyoming, in the shadow of the Grand Tetons. What
could be more fun than this? As I’m fond of saying, I just love a rugged cowboy.

There is something about ranching that, despite all its hard work, calls to me. Maybe it’s the feeling that farmers, ranchers, and cattlemen helped settle this great nation. Maybe it’s my belief that there is something noble about working the land, and having a special connection to the animals that need tending.

Quinn is all my heroes wrapped into one tough, rugged cowboy. As the oldest of three boys, he’s expected to follow the rules and always keep his brothers safe, especially with their mother gone missing when they were children. In tune with the land he loves, he’s drawn to the plight of wolves and has devoted his life to researching them and to working the ranch that has become his family’s legacy. He has no need for romantic attachments… well, until one woman bursts into his life.

Fiercely independent, Cheyenne O’Brien has been running a ranch on her own, since the death of her father and brother. Cheyenne isn’t one to ask for help, but when an unknown enemy attacks her and her home, she will fight back with everything she has, and Quinn will be right by her side.

To me, Cheyenne is the embodiment of the Western woman: strong, adventurous, willing to do whatever it takes to survive—and still very much a beautiful, soft-hearted, vulnerable woman where her heart is concerned.

I loved watching
the sparks
fly between Quinn and Cheyenne.

As a writer, the thrill is to create another fascinating family and then watch as they work, play, and love, all
the while facing up to the threat of very real danger from those who wish them harm.

I hope you’ll come along to share the adventure and enjoy the ride with my new Wyoming Sky trilogy!