by Gayle Wilson
He had wanted to punish her for not being what he’d thought she was. For not living up to some cheesy scenario he’d composed on the spot yesterday afternoon.
She was the poor, sweet damsel in distress. A role he’d created for her so he could play knight errant. And as soon he discovered she didn’t quite fit the part, he’d been pissed. Royally pissed.
Probably because he had been so strongly attracted to her. And that was the other thing he didn’t understand.
Granted, she was female. Due to that botched mission to San Parrano and dealing with the aftereffects, he’d been without a woman for a long time. The way she dressed and that god-awful haircut, however, made it difficult to distinguish her womanly attributes.
Unless you’re lying on top of them.
He ignored the unwanted reminder from his conscience, plowing on with his attempt to figure out why he felt the way he did. In no way, shape or form could Nicki Carson be considered his type. So what the hell kind of lapse in judgment made him want to condemn her for being a prostitute and want to kiss her at the same time?
Not only to kiss her.
If there was one thing he’d always taken pride in, it was being honest with himself. He had wanted her last night, in spite of what Colleen had told him. And if she had given any sign that she was agreeable—
Maybe that’s what was throwing him, he conceded. The fact that she’d been persistent in her attempt to get away from him. Even when he’d felt her physical response.
Ego, old buddy? In spite of the sense of remorse gnawing at him, his lips curved in self-derision.
Could be. He had one. Most people who did what he’d done for a goodly portion of their lives had very healthy egos or they didn’t survive. It was as simple as that.
He couldn’t deny, not to himself at least, that he had wanted her pretty desperately. Despite the fact she was possibly a call girl. Despite that crack about him not being able to afford her price.
And clearly she hadn’t wanted any part of him. So…maybe what he was feeling was bruised ego.
That didn’t, however, explain away the things she’d said. Things that had echoed and reechoed in his consciousness throughout the remainder of the night. Even while he’d slept, the images of her eyes, filled with anger and confusion, had haunted him.
You couldn’t afford me on any salary.
There seemed only one way to interpret that, but he knew in his gut he was missing something. Something that should be obvious.
Maybe he could figure it out if his head wasn’t throbbing so hard that it had become difficult to think. He needed aspirin. A shower. Coffee. Not necessarily in that order.
He didn’t have any idea how the dining hall functioned on Sunday. He did have the pickup. There were a few things he needed in town anyway. He would get dressed and drive into Granby for breakfast if he’d missed it here by sleeping in.
While he was there, he’d call Colleen from a pay phone, a far more secure method than using his satellite phone. He had promised to give her a few days to track down the source of those stories about Nicki, but maybe she’d heard something by now. Worth a phone call.
He sat up and, putting his hand beneath the damaged knee, carefully swung his legs off the side of the bed. Every muscle in his body seemed to protest the movement. And once he was sitting upright, the ache in his head turned into a full-blown catastrophe.
Steeling himself, he put both hands on the mattress, preparing to push up off the bed and start the process of showering and getting dressed. Before he could, someone knocked on the door of the trailer.
This was nothing like Quarrels’s banging. It was restrained, polite, almost apologetic. As if it wasn’t intended to wake him if he weren’t already up.
Nicki? He would have thought it’d be a cold day in hell before she’d come knocking on his door, but there was always the possibility he’d read her wrong last night.
“Just a minute,” he called.
He reached down to the pile of clothing on the floor and grabbed the jeans he’d worn yesterday. Although the procedure wasn’t pleasant, he got both feet into their narrow legs before he stood to pull them up and zip them. He didn’t bother with the metal button at the waist.
As he crossed the narrow room, he held on to any object along the way that offered support for his knee. The pain in it rivaled the ache in his head.
“Who is it?” he asked, feeling a flicker of déjà vu.
“It’s Mapes, Mac. Got a favor to ask.”
Although he’d had little contact with the other hands during the past couple of days, other than those quick, nearly monastically silent meals, he remembered that Mapes was the only one who had introduced himself. He turned the lock on the door and pulled it open. It squealed unpleasantly, just as it had last night.
The old man had stepped down to the ground while he waited, faded Stetson in his hand. He squinted into the morning sunlight as he looked up at the doorway.
“Too early for you?” he asked.
“I was awake,” Michael said.
“Missed you at breakfast. Figured you was sleeping in.”
Which answered one of his questions. Apparently there was no relaxation of the dining hours because of the weekend. The coffee he so desperately needed would have to be obtained in Granby.
“Thought maybe you was planning on driving into town.”
The question had been casually posed, but the dark eyes seemed eager. And after all, Mapes would be another source of information about what went on around here.
“I was,” Michael confirmed. “You need a lift?”
“Be obliged to you. Ran out of smokes a couple of days ago. Been bumming, but folks are tired of it. Ain’t saying they shouldn’t be. Finally talked Charlie into a little advance, but he ain’t going in this weekend. Thought maybe you was.”
“I’ll be leaving in about an hour. You’re welcome to ride.”
“Much obliged,” the old man said again. “I’ll just wait out here ’til you’re ready to go. If you don’t mind.”
Michael hesitated, unable to remember what he’d done with the satellite phone last night. He also tried to picture anything inside the trailer that might reveal Nicki’s visit. After a moment, he decided he could explain either of those away.
“You can wait in here if you want.”
Mapes grinned, his leathery face creasing like an accordion. “Borrowed a couple more smokes at breakfast. I’ll just stay out here and enjoy ’em. Ain’t in no hurry now. You take your time.”
“Suit yourself,” Michael said.
The cowboy turned and walked over to the truck, putting his hat on as he did. When he reached the back of the pickup he glanced up at Michael again, head cocked in inquiry.
“Mind if I lower the tailgate to sit on?”
“Be my guest.”
“I won’t get no ashes in the bed.”
“You can’t hurt it. Do whatever you like, Ralph. I won’t be long.”
“Much obliged.”
Michael watched as the old man let down the tailgate and then hoisted himself onto it. He took a cigarette out of the pocket of his shirt and moistened its length with his tongue, as if he’d rolled it himself. He lit it, cupping the match in his gnarled hand, and then took a deep drag, releasing the smoke into the morning air.
Satisfied that his guest was occupied, Michael stepped back inside the trailer, closing the door behind him. As he did, he realized that he was standing exactly where he’d stood last night when he’d kissed Nicki.
Maybe that was something else that shower would do, he thought as he limped toward the bathroom. Maybe it would wash the taste of her lips and the feel of her body out of his head.
If it didn’t, he was in for a long, unpleasant day.
“I’M NOT SAYING Charlie’s no bad boss, you understand. Just ornery. Likes having things his way. ’Course when you’re the boss, you get to expect that. I’ve shore worked for a heap ’a worser men.”
&nb
sp; The old man seemed happy to talk without much prodding. The sheer isolation of the Half Spur, even among the people who worked there, could account for that. During the trip into Granby, however, Michael had come to the realization that Mapes was naturally gregarious, which suited him fine. The cowboy’s need for a ride to town was proving fortuitous.
“He got a temper?” Michael asked.
“Can have. I’ve seen him fly off the handle a couple of times.”
“How long you been here, Ralph?”
“Going on five months. I reckon me and the kid are vying for some kind of record for the Spur,” he said with a thin, high-pitched chuckle. “Folks shore don’t stay there long.”
“Accommodations or the isolation?”
“Both, maybe. Food ain’t nothing to write home about either. Suits me all right, you understand. I got me one of them cast-iron stomachs.”
“You can get a good meal in town today.” As he said it, Michael wondered if the advance that would provide the old man his “smokes” would stretch to cover anything else. “I’m buying. As long as you’ll keep me company while we eat it,” he added.
“Ain’t no call for that. I owe you for the ride.”
“I was coming in anyway. I’m glad to have you. It gets lonely up there.”
“Ain’t that the truth. The one I feel sorry for is the kid.”
“How’s that?”
“Nobody his age. No women around, if you take my meaning. No transportation. Quarrels rides him ’cause he knows the kid’ll take it.”
“Rides him?”
“Worst jobs. Things none of us likes to do, but we’re used to. I don’t think the kid is.”
If what Colleen had told him was true, Nicola Carson wouldn’t be used to ranch work. Given her background, it seemed strange that she was so proficient at the tasks he’d seen her perform. Of course, she’d had several months to learn the ropes, but considering what the old man had just said, he wouldn’t think Quarrels would have been patient enough to keep her on if she hadn’t had some clue about the work when she arrived.
“Like taking those blood samples?” Michael asked, trying to steer the conversation into the area he needed information about.
He didn’t want to think about how Nicki Carson, high-priced Washington call girl, had learned to be a ranch hand so quickly. It might force him to reevaluate his assessment of her. Just as he didn’t want to hear the old man’s sympathy for the life she was leading. Not this morning at any rate.
“Ain’t quite figured those out myself,” Mapes said.
“You mean why we take them?”
“What they’re doing with them.”
“I think Quarrels takes them somewhere.”
“Nope. They got a place right here.”
“They?”
“Government. Whoever’s running this shebang.”
“He takes the samples into Granby?”
Because he’d seen them loaded onto a helicopter last night, Michael knew Mapes’s information was faulty, but it might be helpful to learn why the old man thought the nearby town was the destination of those blood samples.
“Not in Granby. I mean they got a place on the ranch. Some kind of lab.”
“Are you telling me there’s a research lab on the Half Spur?”
If Mapes was right, then this whole thing was more bizarre than he’d thought. Something that certainly would warrant further investigation.
“Some kind a lab. Don’t you say nothing to nobody, now, about me telling you. We ain’t supposed to know.”
Obviously whatever facility the cowboy was talking about wasn’t within the central compound. Michael had been inside every structure there, and there was nothing that could by any stretch of the imagination be construed as a lab. According to both Nicki and Quarrels, someone was living in each of the trailers, which probably meant they weren’t being used for experiments.
“It must be pretty well hidden away,” Michael suggested.
“In a place that most folks don’t know is even part of the Spur. Charlie likes it that way.”
“Somewhere up in the mountains?”
“There’s lots of territory up there, if you think about it. More than a couple thousand sheep could ever need.”
Michael knew there were several upland pastures. Without Nicki’s guidance yesterday, he would have had no clue where they were taking that part of the flock.
He really needed to do some exploring, like that he’d begun last night when the helicopter arrived. Apparently he couldn’t limit it to the area around the compound.
“You been there? To the lab?” He glanced toward his right to catch a glimpse of the old man’s face.
“Not me. Friend of mine who worked on the Spur stumbled onto it by accident.”
“He still around?”
“Took off a couple ’a days later. Guess he didn’t like the idea of there being some kind of secret facility on the place. I ain’t too wild about it myself, but as long as it’s up there and we’re down at the compound, I don’t let it bother me too much.”
“And you think that lab’s got something to do with the blood samples?”
“Makes sense, don’t it? I just figured that’s where Charlie took ’em. Could be somewhere else. I’ve not seen the place, mind you. Just hearsay from my friend.”
Michael assumed Mapes was using friend as a euphemism for a fellow hired hand. There seemed to be little true friendship on the ranch.
“So what’d your friend say about it? He tell you what it’s like?”
“Didn’t seem inclined to talk about it. ’Course Gene never was very talkative, so that ain’t surprising.”
“Gene?”
“Gene Orbock. The one that found the lab I was telling you about.”
“You know how he happened to find it?”
The old man didn’t answer for a moment. His lips pursed as he considered the winding mountain two-lane ahead of them.
“You been decent to me,” Mapes said. “Bringing me into town and all. Hate to see you get into trouble. So I’m gonna give you a friendly warning. You leave stuff like that lab alone. Charlie don’t like people nosing around up there.”
“You think he fired your friend because he saw it?”
Another long hesitation.
“Maybe. Maybe Gene just decided to leave on his own. Or maybe—”
The words were abruptly cut off. When Michael took his eyes off the road to look at Mapes, the old man’s lips were pressed together as if he were deliberately holding something in.
“Maybe what, Ralph?”
“I always wondered why he left without saying goodbye. It wasn’t like him, you know. Not just to go off without a word.”
If Mapes was suggesting what Michael thought he might be, then there was more going on at the Half Spur than he or Colleen had imagined. Maybe Nicki’s instinct that the cause of that attack in Washington had something to do with this ranch was a valid one. Assuming, of course, there had been an attack in the first place.
And with what he had just heard in the old man’s voice as he’d talked about his friend’s disappearance, that seemed to be more of a possibility than it had last night.
Chapter Ten
He was going to have to apologize some time. The longer Michael thought about what had happened last night, the more convinced he’d become of that.
He’d always been of the “rip the bandage off the wound” school. Once he made up his mind that this was the right thing to do, he was eager to get it over with. Or maybe, he admitted as he walked toward Nicki’s trailer, that eagerness was something else entirely. Something he didn’t want to think about.
He had waited until a couple of hours after dark before he opened his door. The betraying squeak of metal against metal had been the only sound in the stillness. Taking that as a sign that most people had settled in for the night, he had again cut through the aspens in back of the trailers. Noiselessly, he skirted the one that belonged to Mapes, s
ituated between his and Nicki’s.
The main generator was still operating, so the lights were on. Although he seriously doubted anybody was paying attention to who was out visiting on the Half Spur, his encounter with Quarrels last night and the story Ralph had told him today made him reluctant to take a chance on being seen approaching Nicki’s door.
If Quarrels was suspicious of him because of last night, he couldn’t afford to let that suspicion spread to her. That ridiculous disguise wouldn’t stand up to any kind of serious examination.
The only reason she’d managed to carry it off this long was the lack of interaction among the hands and her uncanny ability to fade into the wallpaper. Letting the foreman find out that the two of them had become allies would almost certainly change that. If the hand who’d discovered the lab hadn’t left of his own free will, as Mapes had seemed to imply, then neither he nor Nicki could afford to let anyone know they were interested in the operation of the ranch.
When he arrived at Nicki’s trailer, he forced himself to wait in the shadows of the trees through five long minutes just to be sure he hadn’t been followed. As he listened to the subtle night noises around him, he could hear music coming from the trailer Mapes occupied. Some country station, faint enough that it wouldn’t mask other sounds of human activity. There simply weren’t any.
Occasionally the smell of cigarette smoke drifted to him. The old man was apparently enjoying the purchase he’d made in town today, maybe as much as he had seemed to enjoy the meal they’d shared at an all-you-can-eat Sunday buffet. The fact that Ralph felt free enough to be smoking in his trailer, an act strictly against the rules, relieved a little of Michael’s anxiety about the possibility that the foreman made night rounds.
At the end of the time he’d set to wait, he stepped out of the woods and tapped lightly on the window at the back of Nicki’s trailer. Then he deliberately planted himself beneath it, illuminated by the light filtering through the grimy glass.
After a few seconds, Nicki appeared in the frame. He pointed to the stand of trees behind him. Mouth tight, she shook her head and disappeared.
