Montana Sky

by Nora Roberts

  fall of thick flakes that built a wall between the glass and the rest of the world.

  Lily stared at it, tried to stare through it, while the heat from the blazing logs in the fire licked at her back and worry ate at her nerves.

  “Will you sit down?” Tess snapped, and hated the edge in her voice. “There’s nothing you can do.”

  “They’ve been gone a long time.”

  Tess knew how long they’d been gone. Exactly ninety-eight minutes. “Like I said, there’s nothing you can do.”

  “You could use some more tea. This is cold.” Even as Lily turned to gather the tray, Tess leaped to her feet.

  “Will you stop? Just stop waiting on me—on everyone. You’re not a servant around here. Just sit the hell down, for Christ’s sake.”

  She shuddered once, pressed her fingers to her eyes, and took a long, deep breath. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, as Lily stood where she was, hands locked together, eyes blank. “I’ve got no business yelling at you. I’ve never seen anything like that. Never seen anything like that.”

  “It’s all right.” Empathy eased the tension in her fingers. “It was horrible. I know. Horrible.”

  They sat, on either end of the long leather couch, silent for a full thirty seconds while the wind beat at the windows with vicious gusts. Tess found herself holding back a sickly laugh.

  “Oh, hell.” She blew out a breath and repeated, “Oh, hell. What have we got ourselves into here, Lily?”

  “I don’t know.” The wind sent a demon howl down the chimney. “Are you scared?”

  “Damn right I’m scared. Aren’t you?”

  Eyes sober and steady, Lily pursed her lips in consideration. She lifted a fingertip, rubbed it lightly over her bottom lip. It tended to quiver, she knew, when fear had a grip on her.

  “I don’t think I am. I don’t understand it, not really, but I’m not scared, not the way I expect to be. Just sorry and sad. And worried,” she added, as her eyes were pulled back to the window and her mind drew a picture of three riders, lost in whirling white. “About Adam and Willa and Ben.”

  “They’ll be all right. They live here.”

  Nerves bouncing, Tess rose to pace. The sharp snap of a flame in the fireplace made her jump. Swear. “They know what they’re doing.” If they didn’t, she thought, who the hell did? “Maybe that’s why I’m so scared right now. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. And I always do, you know. It’s one of my best things. Set the goal, form the plan, take the steps. But this time I don’t know what I’m doing.”

  Turning, she sent Lily a thoughtful look. “You do. You know what you’re doing with your tea trays and soup simmering and fire building.”

  Lily shook her head, forced herself to keep her eyes away from the windows. “Those aren’t important things.”

  “Maybe they are,” Tess said softly, then stiffened when she saw the glare of lights through the curtain of snow. “Someone’s here.”

  Because she once again didn’t know what to do—run? hide?—Tess turned deliberately and walked into the foyer, to the front door to open it. Moments later, Nate appeared, coated with white.

  “Get back inside,” he ordered, nudging her out of the way as he closed the door behind him. “Are they back yet?”

  “No. Lily and I . . .” She gestured toward the living area. “What are you doing here?”

  “It’s a bad one,” he said. “I got Shelly and the baby home all right, but barely made it back.” He took off his hat, shook off snow. “It’s been two hours now. I’ll give them a few more minutes before I head out after them.”

  “You’re going out again. In that?” She’d never experienced a blizzard, but was certain she was living through one now. And blizzards killed. “Are you insane?”

  He merely gave her shoulder an absent pat—a man with his mind obviously elsewhere. “Got any coffee hot? I could use a cup. And a thermos to go.”

  “You’re not going out in that.” In a gesture she knew to be foolish even as she made it, she stepped between Nate and the door. “No one’s going out in that.”

  He smiled, traced a fingertip down her cheek. He didn’t see her gesture as foolish, but as sweet. “Worried about me?”

  Terrified was closer to it, but she’d think about that later. “Frostbite, hypothermia. Death.” She snapped off the words like frozen twigs. “I’d be worried about anyone who didn’t have the good sense to stay inside during a storm like this.”

  “Three of my friends are out in it.” His voice was quiet, the purpose behind them unshakable. “Coffee would help, Tess. Black and hot.” Before she could speak, he held up a hand, cocked his head. “There. That should be them.”

  “I didn’t hear anything.”

  “They’re back,” Nate said simply, and settling his hat again, went out to meet them.

  • • •

  H E WAS RIGHT. WHICH MADE TESS DECIDE NATE HAD THE ears of a cat. They came in out of the howling wind layered with snow. Gathered in the living room, drinking coffee Bess had delivered within minutes, they thawed out.

  “Too much snow to see anything.” Ben sank into a deep chair as Adam sat cross-legged in front of the fire. “We got out all right, but there was already a couple new inches down. No way to track.”

  “But you saw.” Tess perched on the arm of the sofa. “You saw what was there.”

  “Yeah.” With a quick glance at Adam, Willa moved her shoulders. She didn’t see any point in adding that the wolves had come back. “I’ll talk to the men about it in the morning. There’s enough to do now.”

  “To do now?” Tess echoed.

  “They’re already out rounding up the herd, getting them into shelter. I’ll find Ham.”

  “Wait.” Certain that she was the only sane person left, Tess held up a hand. “You’re going back out in this. For cows?”

  “They’d die in this,” Willa said briskly.

  As Tess watched in amazement, everyone but her and Lily shrugged back into outdoor gear and headed out. With a shake of her head, she reached for the brandy. “For cows,” she muttered. “For a bunch of stupid cows.”

  “They’ll be hungry when they get back.” Lily didn’t look out the window this time, nor did she listen for the engine of the four-wheeler. “I’ll go help Bess with supper.”

  She could be irritated, Tess thought, or resigned. She decided that being resigned was easier on the system. “I’m not going to sit here alone.” But she took the brandy with her as she caught up with Lily. “Do you get storms like this back east?”

  Distracted, Lily shook her head. “We get our share of snow in Virginia, but I haven’t seen anything quite like this. It comes in so quickly, with so much wind. I can’t imagine having to be out in it, to work in it. I expect Nate will stay the night, don’t you? I’ll have to ask Bess if there’s a room ready for him.”

  She pushed open the kitchen door and found Bess already at the stove nursing an enormous pot steaming fragrantly. “Stew,” Bess announced, sampling from a wooden spoon. “Enough for an army. Needs an hour or two yet to simmer.”

  “They’ve gone out again.” Automatically, Lily went to the pantry to take an apron from a peg. Tess raised an eyebrow at the ease of the gesture. Already routine, she realized.

  “Figured as much,” said Bess. “I’m going to put together an apple cobbler here.” She glanced at Tess, sniffed at the brandy in her hand. “You looking to be useful?”

  “Not particularly.”

  “The woodboxes are half empty,” Bess told her, and hauled a basket of apples out of the pantry. “The men don’t have time to bring in fuel.”

  Tess swirled the brandy in her hand. “You expect me to go outside and bring in wood?”

  “The power goes out, girl, you’ll want to keep your butt warm just like the rest of us.”

  “The power.” At the idea of losing power, of being stuck in the cold, in the dark through the night, her color drained.

  “We got a generator.”
Bess moved her shoulders as she began briskly paring apples. “But we can’t waste it on heating bedrooms when we got plenty of fuel. You want to sleep warm, you bring in wood. You give her a hand, Lily. She needs it more than I do. There’s a rope leading from that door there to the woodpile. You follow that, and bring it in by hand. You won’t be able to push the wheelbarrow through the snow, and there’s no use shoveling the path out until it’s done falling. Get bundled up good, take a flashlight.”

  “All right.” Lily took one look at Tess’s annoyed face. “I can bring it in. Why don’t you stay inside, and you can carry wood up to the bedrooms?”

  It was tempting. Very. Even now Tess could hear the frigid howl of the wind threatening the kitchen windows. But the smirk on Bess’s face caused her to set her snifter aside. “We’ll both bring it in.”

  “Not with those fancy lady’s gloves,” Bess called out as they started out. “Get yourself some work gloves from the mudroom after you’ve got the rest of your gear on.”

  “Hauling in wood,” Tess muttered on her way to the foyer closet. “There’s probably enough inside already to last a week. She’s just doing this to get to me.”

  “She wouldn’t ask us to go out if it wasn’t necessary.”

  Tess dragged on her coat, then shrugged. “She wouldn’t ask you,” she agreed, then plopped down at the base of the steps to tug on her boots. “The two of you seem to be pretty chummy.”

  “I think she’s great.” Lily wound the knit scarf around her neck twice before buttoning her coat over it. “She’s been nice to me. She’d be nice to you too, if you’d . . .”

  Squashing a ski cap onto her head, Tess nodded. “No, don’t spare my feelings. If I’d what—?”

  “Well, it’s just that you’re a little abrasive with her. Abrupt.”

  “Well, maybe I wouldn’t be if she wasn’t always finding some idiotic chore for me to do, then complaining that I don’t do it to her specifications. I’ll get frostbite bringing in this damn wood, and she’ll say I didn’t stack it right. You wait and see.”

  Miffed, she headed back down the hall again, went through the kitchen without a word and into the mudroom to hunt up a pair of thick, oversized work gloves.

  “Ready?” Lily grabbed a flashlight and prepared to follow Tess.

  The minute Tess opened the door, the wind slapped ice-edged snow into their faces. Wide-eyed, they stared at each other; it was Lily who took the first step into the wolf bite of the wind.

  They grabbed the leading rope, pulling themselves along as the wind shoved them rudely back a step for every three they took. Boots sank knee-deep into snow, and the flashlight bobbled along through the dark like a drunken moonbeam. They all but stumbled over the tarp-covered woodpile.

  Tess kept a grip on the flashlight and held her arms out while Lily filled them with wood. Legs spread to hold her balance, the tip of her nose tingling, Tess gritted her teeth. “Hell has nothing to do with fire,” she shouted. “Hell is winter in Montana.”

  Lily smiled a little and began to fill her own arms. “Once we’re inside and warm, with the fires going, we’ll look out and think it’s pretty.”

  “Bullshit,” Tess muttered as they fought their way back to the house to dump the first load. “How bad do you want a warm bed?”

  Lily looked toward the toasty kitchen, then back out into the thundering storm. “Pretty bad.”

  “Yeah.” Tess sighed, rolled her shoulders. “Me too. Once more into the breach.”

  They repeated the routine three times, and Tess began to get into the swing of it. Until she lost her footing and fell headlong and face first into a three-foot drift. The flashlight buried itself like a mole in topsoil.

  “Are you all right? Did you hurt yourself?” In her rush to help, Lily leaned over, lost her balance, overcompensated, and sat down hard on her butt. With her breath gone, she stayed where she was, sunk to the waist, while Tess rolled over and spat out snow.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Struggling to sit up, Tess narrowed her eyes at Lily’s giggles. “What’s so goddamn funny? We’ll be buried any minute, and they won’t find us until the spring thaw.” But she felt her own laughter bubbling up as she studied Lily, sitting in a deep throne of snow like some miniature ice queen. “And you look like an idiot.”

  “So do you.” Breath hitching, Lily pressed a snow-coated glove to her heart. “And you’re the one with a beard.”

  Philosophically, Tess swiped the snow off her chin and tossed it into Lily’s face. It was all they needed. Despite the mule kick of the wind, they scooped snow into lopsided balls and pummeled each other. Shrieking now, scrambling to their knees, they heaved and tossed and dodged. They were no more than a foot apart, so aim wasn’t a factor in the battle. Speed was all that mattered. As snow slapped her face and snuck down the collar of her coat, Tess had to admit that Lily had her there. She might appear delicate, but she had an arm like a bullet.

  There was only one way to even the odds.

  Tess tackled her and sent them both rolling. Laughing like hyenas, white as snowmen, they plopped on their backs to catch their breath. Flakes drifted down on them, huge and heavy, with the iced edges smoothed out.

  “We used to make snow angels when I was a kid,” Lily said, and lazily demonstrated by skimming her arms and legs over the snow. “And once it snowed enough for us to be out of school for two days. We built a snow fort and an army of snow people. My mother came out and took pictures of it.”

  Tess blinked up, trying to see the black sky through the curtain of white. “The one and only time I went skiing, I decided snow and I weren’t compatible.” She mimicked Lily’s moves. “I guess it’s not so bad, really.”

  “It’s beautiful.” Then she laughed. “I’m freezing.”

  “I’ll buy you a huge mug of coffee laced with brandy.”

  “I’ll take it.” Still smiling, Lily sat up. Then her heart leaped into her throat, blocking the scream. Her hand clamped over Tess’s as the shadow moved, became a man. Came closer.

  “Did you all take a tumble?”

  Tess’s head jerked around, her pulse roaring in her ears. They were alone, she thought in panic, too far from the house for a shout to carry over the wind. The image of the butchered deer reared up in her mind, turning her to helpless mush.

  The flashlight, she thought, as her eyes darted right and left. He had one, the beam strong enough to blind her while keeping him in silhouette. She wanted to run, ordered herself to run, to drag Lily with her, but she couldn’t seem to move.

  “You shouldn’t be out here in the dark,” he said, and stepped closer.

  Now she moved, survival instincts springing free like a cat out of a cage. She bounded up, snatched a log from the woodpile, and prepared to swing. “Stay back,” she ordered, and despite her shaking hands the order was strong and firm. “Lily, get up. Get up, goddamn it.”

  “Hey, I didn’t mean to spook you.” He angled the light so that it played along the snow. “It’s Wood, Miss Tess. Billy and me just got in, and the wife thought you might need some help up here.”

  His voice was easy, nonthreatening—even, Tess thought, slightly amused. But they were alone, basically helpless, and he was a strong man with his face still in shadow. Trust no one, she decided, and took a firmer grip on the log.

  “We’re fine. Lily, go inside and tell Bess that Wood’s here. Tell her,” she hissed, and Lily finally snapped into action and moved.

  “No need to put Bess to any trouble.” Wood angled the flashlight toward the woodpile, skimmed the beam over the trampled path to the house. “The wife’s got supper on for me, but I can haul some logs in for you. Power’s bound to go before long.”

  Completely alone with Wood now, Tess prayed that Lily was inside and alerting Bess. Fear licked along her spine with a sharp-edged tongue. She took one step back, then two. “We’ve already taken some in.”

  “Can’t have too much in this kinda storm.” He held the flashlight out to her, and she j
erked back, visualizing a knife. “You want to take this,” he said gently, “I’ll load up.”

  Still poised to run, Tess reached out, took the light. Wood bent to the pile as Lily came flying back. “Bess has coffee on.” Her voice rose and fell like an arpeggio. “She said there was plenty if Wood wanted a cup.”

  “Well, now, I appreciate that.” He continued to stack logs competently in the crook of one arm. “But I’ll get one back to home. The wife’s waiting on me. You all go back in, use that light now. I can find my way well enough.”

  “Yes, let’s go in. Let’s go inside, Tess.” Shivering, Lily tugged on Tess’s arm. “Thank you, Wood.”

  “Don’t mention it,” he murmured, shaking his head as they backed down the path. “Women,” he said to himself.

  “I was so scared,” Lily managed. The moment they were inside the mudroom she threw her arms around Tess. “You were so brave.”

  “I wasn’t brave. I was terrified.” As fresh realization set in, she clutched Lily and shook violently. “How could we have forgotten? How could we be playing out there like a couple of idiots after everything that’s happened? God! God, it could be anyone. Why did it take so long for that to sink in?” She drew back, met Lily’s eyes. “It could be anyone.”

  “Not Adam.” After tearing her gloves off, Lily rubbed her chilled hands together. “He couldn’t hurt anyone, or anything. And he was with us when we—when we found it today.”