Wyoming Fierce

by Diana Palmer

  “Yes, but they had to resolve them,” Bodie agreed. “If one man killed another man, he brought offerings to the family of the dead man and tried to make amends. There were punishments, but people were rarely banished forever, even for terrible offenses.” She smiled. “They were more tolerant, as well. There were men in the community who didn’t want to hunt, who preferred the life the women lived. So they were permitted to do what they pleased without censure. People got along because they had to. Their survival depended on it.”

  “You’re going to make a wonderful instructor one day,” Morie told her. “If you need help with tuition, I’ll take care of it,” she added, “and don’t fuss. You know I can afford it.”

  Bodie flushed. “It’s very kind of you…”

  “It isn’t. My family funds scholarships at two colleges,” she said. “We’re very big on education. It would be my pleasure to help in any way I can. You’re family,” she said gently.

  “That means so much to me right now,” Bodie said, and from the heart. “I’m still used to getting along without my grandfather. It’s hard.”

  “I loved my granddaddy, too,” Morie told her. “He was such a funny man. He and my dad would have these ridiculous arguments. Mom told me that they were having dinner when she was dating my uncle Danny, long before she married Dad, and my father let out a cuss word. His dad pulled him up for it, and my grandmother piped in and said that he, my grandfather, cussed at the table, too. And Big Jim, my granddaddy, said, ‘the hell I do!’” She laughed. “He was wonderful. He taught me to fish.”

  “They say your father was a holy terror when he was Cane’s age,” Bodie remarked.

  “He was. He still has a terrible temper. He and Mallory hit head-on at the cattle sale,” she recalled. “Mallory said that he wasn’t marrying into any family that my father belonged to. Fortunately for me, he changed his mind.” She laughed softly.

  “Mallory is terrific. So is Tank,” she replied. “He should marry some really nice girl and settle down.”

  “He’s still dealing with his own tragedy,” Morie told her quietly. “He isn’t as obvious with his problems as Cane is, but if you stand near him when a car backfires…”

  “He dives to the ground,” Bodie replied. “I know.”

  Morie sighed. “I didn’t. I laughed, and Darby told me what happened and why Tank reacted that way. I felt very small. It’s rather odd, that Tank went through the war in the Middle East and came home unscathed, only to get shot to pieces by a Mexican drug cartel while he was a border agent.”

  “It’s scary,” Bodie said. “And a miracle that he lived.”

  “I expect he has injuries that aren’t apparent,” Morie said thoughtfully. “Maybe scars he’s afraid to show to a woman he doesn’t know.” She gave Bodie a curious look. “He likes you.”

  “I like him, too,” Bodie said, smiling. “He’s like the big brother I never had.”

  “I see.”

  “Cane is like the big brother I’m glad I never had,” Bodie added coldly.

  “No, I don’t think you consider him a brother,” Morie mused aloud, and smiled at Bodie’s scarlet blush. “I thought so.”

  “Well, if I don’t, it’s definitely going to be one-sided,” Bodie said firmly. “I’m not getting serious about a man who sees women as party favors!”

  “Some men take time to settle down.”

  “That one will never settle down,” Bodie said curtly. “He thinks marriage is for idiots. He even said so.”

  “He might change his mind, with the right incentive,” Morie coaxed. “Give it time, Bodie. He’s dealing with his own issues right now.”

  “He won’t talk to the mental health people,” Bodie confided. “He said he can’t open up to them instantly, like they want him to.”

  “Then, he might do better to talk to someone he trusts,” Morie suggested.

  “Like his brothers, you mean?”

  “Like you, Bodie,” Morie said.

  The younger woman laughed hollowly. “He won’t talk to me about anything personal unless he’s been drinking,” she said.

  “Ever consider that maybe he gets drunk so that he can talk to you and tell you about things that are bothering him? Things he’d never have the inclination to speak of when he’s cold sober?”

  Bodie thought back to some of the more intense subjects Cane had spoken to her about when he was in his cups. She blushed when she recalled the more intimate ones.

  “So he does, doesn’t he?” Morie persisted.

  “I don’t know. Maybe he does. But I don’t have the experience to deal with all that,” she replied worriedly. “I don’t know what to tell him, how to help him.”

  “What if I got you in touch with a psychologist I know? She might be able to give you some advice on how to deal with it.”

  “That might be helpful. But I don’t want to make things worse for him by saying the wrong thing.”

  “I’m sure she won’t advise you to psychoanalyze him.” Morie laughed. “But she can tell you some things that might help.”

  Bodie nodded. “Okay, then. I think…”

  Morie’s phone went off, with the theme of a popular movie. She pulled it out of her jeans and opened it. “Morie,” she said into the receiver.

  “Mrs. Kirk, can you send somebody over here to get Cane?” the worried bartender of a nearby establishment asked plaintively. “He’s wrecking the place!”

  Bodie, overhearing the plea, grimaced.

  “I’ll send someone right over,” Morie promised. “And we’ll make it all right financially, okay?”

  “Okay. But please hurry!”

  “That’s your cue,” Morie told Bodie. She grimaced again. “Sorry. I’ll get Darby to drive you.”

  “Get him to hide the tire tool,” Bodie advised grimly. “The temptation just might be too much for me!”

  CHAPTER NINE

  IT STARTED TO SNOW AS Darby pulled up in front of the country bar and grill with Bodie.

  “Now, don’t hit him,” Darby advised as he opened the door for her.

  “Chance would be a fine thing,” she muttered.

  She strode into the bar. It was very late, and only a couple of men were still there. On the bar was a shattered display of glasses and bottles.

  But Cane was nowhere in sight. She frowned and went to speak to the bartender. “Isn’t Cane Kirk here?” she asked tentatively.

  He glowered at her. “Come and gone,” he said. He waved his hand around the room. “Hundreds of dollars worth of damage, again. Listen, Bodie, you tell his brothers if he does this one more time, I’m calling the law. Enough is enough. I sympathize with the man, I do, but we’re going to lose customers if this doesn’t stop. Besides that—” he sighed “—maybe a few days in jail will turn him around.”

  She grimaced. “I don’t think so,” she confessed. “He’s totally out of control. Do you have any idea where he might have gone?” she added, worried now, because if Cane was that drunk and driving, he could kill himself or somebody else.

  “No idea,” the bartender replied. “Except that he started north, toward Jackson Hole.”

  “Thanks, Sid,” she told him with a wan smile.

  “Hey, no problem. I’m sorry about your grandfather,” he said gently. “He was a good man.”

  “Yes. He was.”

  “That stepfather of yours,” he muttered. “There’s talk of an investigation. They say he’s operating a porn site and using underage girls.”

  Her eyes widened. “Will?” she stammered, horrified. She’d known he filmed things for his own amusement, but she had no idea he was capable of something like that.

  “He’s denying it, of course, but one of the girls was forced to come forward by her mother. She was sixteen when she was posing for Will, although she said she never told him her real age. Not that he asked. Damned shame. Sweet, innocent girl, now her body’s plastered all over the internet, thanks to Will, in some shameful ways. Or at least, that’s th
e gossip,” he elaborated. “I don’t visit websites like that. But plenty do. Even around here.”

  “Can’t they take the pictures of her down?” Bodie asked. She was worried in case Will doctored the film he had of her and put it out in some obscene fashion on the web, to get even with her for involving the Kirk brothers.

  “Not really,” Sid replied. “They’ve spread around too far, or that’s what the sheriff told me. He said he didn’t know what she could do about it, except her parents could sue Will. But it’s going to make things really hard on her around here. Her mother said she guessed she’d send her to college up in Oregon, where hopefully nobody will recognize her. She’s changed her hair color and all.” He shrugged. “Maybe it will help.”

  “Poor kid!”

  He nodded. “Adult judgment requires age,” he said quietly. “Will’s friend Larry sweet-talked her, promised her a film career…said he had connections on the West Coast. She and her family are poor. She wanted more. So she did what they said. Now here she is, her reputation in tatters, her family disgraced.” He wiped at a spot on the bar. “Thing is, what people do has effects on everyone around them. Like tossing a rock into a river. Ripples spread out far from the impact.”

  She smiled. “You’re a philosopher, Sid.”

  “Learn a lot about human nature, working in a place like this.”

  “Have they arrested Will?”

  He shook his head, and his face hardened. “Can’t get enough evidence to indict just yet. But the girl’s willing to testify, and her mother says they’re getting an attorney. Even if Will doesn’t get prosecuted for lack of evidence, they’re going to sue him all the same.” He laughed hollowly. “Can’t see what good it will do, except to bring what he’s doing out in the open. Can’t get blood out of a turnip.”

  “So they say.” She looked around again. “Mallory will take care of the bill,” she promised.

  “Somebody needs to take care of Cane,” Sid said. “He needs help.”

  “Everybody knows that except him.”

  “I guess some folk are hardheaded.”

  “I guess they are. Thanks, Sid.”

  He nodded. “Hope you find him.”

  “If I do, he’ll hope I didn’t,” she said with just a touch of belligerence.

  Sid laughed. “Atta girl.” He grinned. “Go get him!”

  “I intend to.” She went back out to the truck. Darby frowned as she climbed in beside him. “Where’s Cane? You need help getting him in the truck?” he asked her.

  “He’s not there,” she said. “Somebody saw him go north, toward Jackson Hole. We’d better drive along the highway and see if he stopped and passed out.”

  What she didn’t say was that they might find him in some other condition. Darby knew it, too. He started the vehicle without a word and pulled out on the highway toward Jackson.

  * * *

  THEY WENT SLOWLY. It was very dark, no moon, and they had to look on both sides of the highway for Cane’s truck. The road was deserted this time of night. It wasn’t unusual to drive for many miles and never even see another vehicle. It was some of the most open country in the state, beautiful and wild. It had snowed, but even the faint glimmer of reflected light from the snow didn’t help them spot Cane’s truck.

  “Maybe he went home,” Darby speculated.

  He stopped the truck and used his cell phone, which was connected to a communications system installed in the vehicle. It allowed everyone in the vehicle to hear both sides of the conversation and it was hands-free.

  “Mal?” he asked when Mallory answered. “Any chance Cane came home?”

  “No. Wasn’t he at the bar?” Mallory queried.

  “He was already gone when we got there. Somebody saw him start toward Jackson Hole, so that’s the direction we’re headed in.”

  Mallory was quiet. “He shouldn’t be driving at all.”

  “I totally agree,” Darby said. “But we have to convince him.”

  “Easier said than done,” Mallory replied heavily. “I’ll wake up some of the men and send them out to help you search. He could be on any of the side roads that lead north.”

  “Thanks, boss,” Darby replied.

  “He’s my brother, warts and all,” Mallory reminded him. “Can’t turn my back on family, even if I’m tempted. But he’s going to get a thumping, I promise you. This can’t continue. We’ve already let it go on too long.”

  “Sid said he needed more than a night in jail to take a look at his life,” Bodie joined in. “It’s drastic, I know, but he’s never going to change unless he has something to turn him around before it’s too late.”

  “I agree,” Darby said. “Instead of picking up the pieces and paying the bills, we should let the sheriff do his job.”

  There was a hesitation.

  “You know I’m right, Mal,” Darby said after a minute of silence. “We’re doing him no favors, letting him get away with this behavior.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” Mallory said heavily.

  “It might be better to get him into rehab,” Bodie countered. She couldn’t bear the thought of Cane in jail, no matter what she’d said in anger.

  “Yes,” Mallory said. “It might, indeed. Okay, I’ll send the boys out. Keep in touch.”

  “Will do,” Darby replied and cut off the phone. He glanced at a silent Bodie. “Going to be a long night,” he prophesized.

  * * *

  IT WAS. COWBOYS FROM Rancho Real joined the search party, each one taking a different road on the many branches that led from the Jackson highway. Bodie and Darby kept along the main road, their eyes peeled for any sign of a ranch truck off the road in a ditch or in the median.

  After an hour of fruitless searching, Bodie was tired and sleepy and out of sorts.

  “I really do want to thump him,” she muttered.

  “Mallory will do that, when we find him.” He chuckled. He sobered. “It’s worrying,” he said. “Cane used to be the most levelheaded one of the Kirks. He was the marketing specialist, the go-to guy. Mallory had to take over after Cane was injured. Then, when Mallory got involved in the daily operations and Tank retired from the Border Patrol after his own trauma, Tank took over the marketing. Cane was left with showing cattle. It’s rather demeaning, for a man with his brain. He graduated top of his class in anthropology,” he added, surprising Bodie. “Brilliant man, with a great future. He was invited to a dig in Egypt, and it would have made him famous after the newer discoveries there. But he went to war instead, became a patriot. It was a huge sacrifice that he made of his life.”

  “I didn’t know, about his grades. He was a summa?” she asked, referring to the highest honor graduates, summa cum laude.

  “Yes.”

  “What a waste of a good life,” she murmured. “All because he lost an arm. You know, a lot of people came home from the Middle East missing arms or legs. They learned to deal with it and get on with their lives. I don’t understand why Cane can’t.”

  “Pride.” Darby sighed. “He’s too proud to ask for help. We had to force him to take a man with him to help show the cattle. He tried it, but one of the bulls balked and knocked him down. He didn’t have enough strength in his one good arm to stop it. Humiliated him, especially when a drunk buyer made a remark about the ‘cripple.’”

  “What a bozo,” she muttered, angry.

  “He did apologize, after Cane knocked out one of his front teeth,” Darby mused.

  “Good for Cane!”

  He laughed. “But it didn’t shield him from the fact that he just wasn’t physically able to deal with a huge bull in an arena.”

  “I guess not. It would have hurt him.”

  Darby nodded. “The way women treat him hurts more,” he said bluntly. “He’s had two bad experiences, over that lost arm. Now he’s vindictive. He takes it out on you.”

  She swallowed. “Yeah. I noticed.”

  He glanced at her. “You’ve got guts, to stick around here. We like the com
pany, but you shouldn’t take any guff from Cane.”

  She managed a smile. “I don’t, really.” She sighed and looked out the window intently. “Isn’t Christmas supposed to be a time for being kind to your fellow man?”

  “Supposed to be,” he replied. “Maybe we should stand Cane up in the living room next to the Christmas tree and decorate him with holly.”

  She laughed at the word picture. “Wouldn’t that be a hoot? We could use rope and spurs for decorations.”

  “He’d be purty, all right,” he drawled. “Not long until Christmas… Oh, dear God!”

  He stopped the truck in midsentence. There, on the side of the road, was the ranch truck. It was upside down, steam rising from the engine in the cold.

  Darby pulled onto the side of the highway, cut the engine and followed Bodie, running, to the wreck.

  “Don’t look!” Darby told her firmly, trying to head her off. He had a horrible feeling that he was going to find Cane’s mangled body inside. He wanted to spare her.

  “In your dreams,” she bit off frantically. She dived for the door, upside down with the glass broken out. “Help me!” she cried.

  Darby helped her force open the door. Inside, Cane was still strapped into his seat, his head bleeding, his eyes closed, his powerful body slumped, hanging upside down.

  Darby fumbled with the seat belt but couldn’t budge the mechanism. He pulled out his pocket knife and cut it, easing Cane down and pulling him gently from the wreckage.

  Bodie hovered, worried.

  “I know, we’re not supposed to move accident victims,” Darby replied grimly, “but in that position he was in even more danger. Get my blanket out of the truck, we’ll cover him up. I’ll call for help.” He pulled out his cell phone.

  Bodie, frozen in place, looked at Cane’s still form with horror.

  “Hurry,” Darby said gently.