by B. J Daniels
The moment she got off the woman, Channing rolled to her side. She was screaming, yelling obscenities and trying to get up. Blood ran down the side of her face from where the phone base had cut into her scalp.
That’s when Dorothea saw the knife on the floor right next to Channing. She realized that Channing had set it on the nearest chair—within reach. Had the woman been able to get to it earlier, Dorothea knew she would be dead now.
She leaned back against the side of the chair and tried to catch her breath as she thought she heard the sound of a motor in the distance.
* * *
POPPY FELT MICK grab for her as a second shot pinged off the old metal door. The next thing she knew she was drowning in snow. She didn’t know which way was up. When she opened her eyes there was nothing but icy white flakes that she could see filling her mouth and her throat. Panic crowded her and she began to flail, until she realized that Will still had hold of her.
He dragged her to the surface as he fought his own way from inside the towering drift. Then he pulled the two of them into the road the plow had just opened. Poppy fought to breathe as she frantically wiped the freezing crystals from her face and sucked in the air around her. The sun was high in the sky, its warmth reassuring her that she was alive.
She looked down the road and realized she no longer heard the sound of the plow truck’s engine. Fifty yards away the truck was buried in snow. But she heard something, a thumping. She realized what she was hearing was Mick trying to break out of the truck.
Will got up, took off his coat and put it on her, zipping it up to her neck before he gave her a quick kiss. “Come on,” he said. “We have to go.”
He pulled her to her feet and they started back up the road. They hadn’t gone far when they heard the gunfire. Turning, she saw that Mick had blown out the rear window of the truck and was now firing at them as he crawled out. He was coming after them, his intent clear.
* * *
WILL KNEW THEY didn’t stand much chance of getting away. Not when Mick had a gun and nothing to lose. “Try to run,” he told Poppy as he took her hand. They began to run as best as they could through the snow that had packed down after the blade went through.
They still had some yards between them and Mick, but not so many between them and a bullet. But Will had seen the way Mick had climbed through the back window of the truck. He was hurt worse than he had been earlier. He’d hoped when the truck stopped in one of the drifts that it would throw him against the windshield. He thought it might have. Just not hard enough to stop the man.
As long as Mick tried to catch them and didn’t stop to take aim with the gun, they had a chance. Ahead there was a curve in the road. Will told himself that if they could reach that...
He felt a burning in his left calf. It took him a moment to realize what had happened. Suddenly, he was falling headlong into the snowy road, dragging Poppy down with him since he was still holding her hand.
“Will?”
“I’m shot.”
“No,” she cried and turned to look back at where Mick was still coming.
“It’s my leg,” he said through gritted teeth. “Keep going up the road. Poppy, listen to me. You need to try to get away.”
She shook her head as she checked to see how bad the wound was. “Do you think you can get up?”
He gave her an impatient look that was also filled with something so close to love that she clung to it for strength. She started to help him to his feet when she said, “What is that noise?” He listened for a moment before looking down the road. Mick had stopped to look back.
“It’s the sheriff’s department snowcat,” Will said as he let out a relieved sigh as a huge large-truck-size vehicle with tracks rather than tires roared toward Mick.
Mick stood in the middle of the road, the gun in his hand, and he watched the snowcat headed toward him. Even from a distance, Poppy could make out the sheriff’s department logo on the side.
Will pulled Poppy to him, as if he saw what was about to happen. He buried her face into his chest, holding her tightly. “I love you, Poppy,” he said but doubted she heard him over the clack of the snowcat. Just as he doubted she heard the report of the gun.
In the distance, Will had seen Mick pull the trigger, the barrel of the gun against his temple—just as it had been against Poppy’s. Will saw Mick’s head snap back an instant before he dropped dead.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
WILL HAD NEVER been so glad to see his brothers as they came running from the snowcat. They wrapped both him and Poppy into blankets in the warmth of the snowcat. He knew there would be a lot of questions. Mick was dead. So was his father, Kirk Austin and Lexi Raiser.
“I wish I had some answers for you,” he told the sheriff on the way back to the lodge. He held Poppy close, both of them shivering uncontrollably, no doubt more from adrenaline and shock than actual cold. The EMT with them bound Will’s leg wound to staunch the bleeding until they could get him to the hospital.
But Will had insisted on the snowcat taking him to the guest ranch first. “Ruby needs medical attention.” If she was still alive. “I need to be sure everyone else is all right.” He was worried as hell about Dorothea and the others he’d had to leave behind at the ranch. He couldn’t explain it, but he’d been fighting the feeling that, even with Mick dead, it wasn’t over. Not yet.
As they came over the rise and he saw the ranch, he was finally able to breathe. Dorothea was standing outside, safe. Lamar was there, too, along with Dean and Allison. They all looked as happy to see the sheriff’s department’s snowcat as he’d been.
But with a start, he realized two of the guests were missing. He knew where Ruby was. But where was Channing?
* * *
DOROTHEA WASN’T ONE to cry. She prided herself on being strong. But when she’d seen Will and Poppy she’d burst out crying. She rushed to Poppy, hugging her—something else she hadn’t imagined herself doing—and then reaching for Will only to realize that he’d been shot.
“Get him inside,” she ordered. “I’ll fetch my first aid kit.”
“It’s just a flesh wound,” Will assured her. “And the EMT already saw to it. But I’m worried about Ruby. She’s inside the lodge on the couch,” he told the EMT, who grabbed his kit and hurried inside.
“You should be on your way to the hospital,” Dorothea said to Will.
Garrett shook his head. “You know my brother. He insisted on coming up to check on you first and get the EMT to Ruby.”
Dorothea threw her arms around Will and then, sniffing back her tears, demanded to know why they were all standing out in the cold.
“Where is Channing?” Will asked as he limped toward the lodge, Poppy at his side.
“She’s tied up,” Dorothea said over her shoulder. “She and Mick were in on it together. I’m lucky to be alive. The bitch tried to kill me.”
* * *
POPPY STOPPED INSIDE the door of the lodge to stare at Channing bound and gagged on the floor.
“I gagged her when I couldn’t take any more of her lip,” Dorothea told the sheriff, who moved to the woman to remove the gag.
“Anything you say may be used—”
Channing cut off the sheriff. “Don’t waste your Miranda rights on me,” she snapped. “Untie me. This woman is crazy. I didn’t do anything. Clearly she doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”
“I saw the whole thing,” Ruby said from the couch where the EMT was checking the wound on her head. “Dorothea’s telling the truth. Channing and Mick were working together.”
Channing spewed obscenities at the DEA agent for a moment before she took a breath and said, “Where’s Mick?”
“He took his own life before we could arrest him,” the sheriff said.
The young woman closed her eyes for a long moment. When she opened them, all the hatred inside h
er seemed to glow in them. “That’s what I’m going to do the first chance I get. Unless I can take out the rest of you first.”
The sheriff got to his feet, motioning for the deputy. “Cuff her and read her her rights.”
Poppy heard the sound of a helicopter and a few moments later it put down out front in a blizzard of snow. With Garrett’s help, the EMT got ready to transport Ruby and Will to the hospital.
“Are you going to be all right?” Will asked her as he drew her aside.
Poppy nodded. “Thanks to you, I’m alive.”
“Only with your help.” His gaze locked with hers for a moment before the EMT said it was time to leave.
She watched Will limp toward the helicopter. The blades whirred, throwing snow into the air as it took off. She felt as if her heart had just left with it.
“I have a lot of questions,” the sheriff said. “The county highway department is getting the roads open. I’ll get you all transported down to the station.”
Poppy remembered the basket filled with alibis. She went into the office and brought it back out. “Will had everyone write down where they said they were after each murder. I doubt they’ll be all that helpful, knowing what we do now, but I will put them in a plastic zip bag for you.”
“Thanks. Some uniforms should be here shortly,” he said and smiled at her.
Dorothea seemed to hesitate as she met the sheriff’s gaze. “Is there anything else I can get you, Sid?”
Poppy watched, unable not to be amused. About the same age, Dorothea and the sheriff were flirting with each other. How long has this been going on? she wondered and then shook herself mentally.
“I should make us all something to eat and drink,” Poppy said and headed for the kitchen. A moment later, Dorothea joined her.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” the older woman asked.
Poppy smiled at her. “Not yet, but I will be.” She bit her lip and began to take food from the refrigerator as Dorothea brought the zip bag to the sheriff. “No hurry.”
Dorothea blushed and called to her, “I’ll be right back.”
When the woman returned, her cheeks were flushed. Under other circumstances, Poppy might have teased her.
“What will you do now?” Dorothea asked as she began to help make sandwiches for everyone.
“I’ll go back to my catering business,” Poppy said, trying to hide her true feelings.
“You know he loves you.”
She didn’t have to ask whom. “He said he was crazy about me.” Not the same thing as love, but it was definitely something to hold on to when it felt as if the earth under her was crumbling.
In the meantime, she had her cooking and she was thankful for that as she shoved a pan full of brownies into the oven and furtively wiped at her tears.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
WILL WAS RUSHED directly into surgery to remove the bullet. So much for Will thinking it was just a flesh wound. That was followed by several days of rest, doctor’s orders, to let the gunshot wound heal.
Poppy came by the hospital, brought him flowers and food she’d cooked. They talked about everything but the two of them. They’d been through so much. He told himself that they needed time. What happened next would affect the rest of their lives. They both had to be sure.
“Ruby is doing fine,” she said. “I didn’t know if you’d heard.”
He had, but he was still glad to hear that she would be released soon. He was anxious to get out of here, as well. Sunshine filled his room and he could hear birds singing outside in the trees. Spring had come to the valley but there was still a lot of snow in the mountains. Now with the warmer weather, there was flooding. It always seemed to be something with weather in Montana.
“You’ll rebuild the cabin and the barn?” Poppy asked.
He nodded. “When we can get in there and do the work. It’s a mess up there according to Garrett and Shade. Also it’s still a crime scene. It will be a while before we can get under construction.” Not soon enough to open the guest ranch for the busiest season. It would be the first summer since his grandfather had started the guest ranch that it wouldn’t be open.
Lately, he’d wondered if that wasn’t a blessing. And there was the fact that he still didn’t know what he wanted to do with the rest of his life. He’d been so anxious to take over the running of the guest ranch, but then everything had gone so wrong.
“But once you get the barn and cabin done, it will be as good as new,” she said and laughed. “Because it will be new.”
He smiled at her. He knew Poppy could tell how depressed he was over all of it, so he quickly changed the subject. “How is the catering business?”
“Busy. Dorothea came to see me the other day. She’s staying at the valley ranch for a while, but I suppose you already knew that. She wanted to know if I would cater a tea.”
“What?” He looked surprised. “A tea? Dorothea?”
“Seems she belongs to some women’s group of—”
“If it involves cauldrons and black cats...”
Poppy laughed. It was a wonderful sound and one he’d missed. “No, she’s taken up knitting.”
He lay back on his pillow. “Seriously? I can’t imagine her knitting.”
“Apparently she’s really enjoying it. She wants me to make sandwiches and cookies for a real English tea.”
“I wish I could see that.”
“When are you getting out of here? Maybe she’ll invite you. You’ll need something to do while your leg finishes healing. Knitting might be—”
“Right,” he said and shook his head. “I haven’t given it much thought about what I’ll do until we can get up to the guest ranch and begin work.” He didn’t want to tell her that the wound had gotten infected and he couldn’t leave until they got it under control and his fever went down. “I’ll be out of here soon, though. There is always regular ranch work down here in the valley. My brothers wouldn’t mind the help.”
Their conversation lagged and Poppy rose from the chair next to his bed and said she had to get back. “Work calls. Is there anything special I could bring you?”
“No, but thank you. I could be out of here as early as tomorrow morning.”
She nodded, getting the message. “Take care of yourself.”
He grabbed her hand as she started to leave. “Thank you again. For everything.” As he let go and she left, he mentally kicked himself. His heart was aching and the last thing he’d wanted was to let her go—let alone push her away.
But his whole life was up in the air right now. He didn’t know if and when the guest ranch would be open again. He had no idea what he was going to do. And until he did, he couldn’t, wouldn’t, drag Poppy into it. He’d almost gotten her killed as it was.
That thought often woke him in the middle of the night. The fear that they hadn’t been saved at all. That Mick had put a bullet in Poppy’s head. That something like that could happen again.
He mentioned it later when his brother Garrett stopped by.
“You do realize that what you’re saying is ridiculous. What are the chances of something like that ever happening again at the guest ranch?”
“That’s just it, I don’t know. But it isn’t a chance I want to take with other people’s lives ever again.”
“Are we talking about Poppy? Dorothea told me that you two fell in love.”
Will groaned and deflected. “Have you ever believed anything Dorothea says?”
“In this case, why would I not believe her? Poppy’s gorgeous, smart, talented, has her own business. Hell, if you aren’t interested in her, maybe I’ll—”
“You stay away from her!”
Garrett laughed. “The look on your face right now says it all. So what are you waiting for?”
“I don’t know what I’m going to do with my life.”
“Whatever you want to,” his brother said. “You want to sell the guest ranch? Shade and I are fine with that. You want to join us working the cattle ranch? We could use the help. But don’t make any decisions for a while. Give it some time. And some thought. Just don’t let Poppy get away. A woman like that doesn’t come along every day.”
Like he needed Garrett to tell him that.
* * *
POPPY KNEW SHE should be delighted. Her business had taken off as spring came to Montana. She was able to hire Kara full-time as they were getting more and more requests for catered events.
Working from early morning until late in the evening day after day was a blessing. By the time she got home, she was too tired to even fix herself something to eat. She would drop into bed, yearning for the oblivion of sleep. Unfortunately, she often woke in the middle of the night screaming from the nightmares.
“You need to talk to someone,” Kara had said after Poppy had confessed about the nightmares. She’d only shared because she’d messed up a batch of cookies, something that wasn’t like her. “How crazy was all that up there at the guest ranch?”
“Crazy.”
“People just don’t bounce back from that kind of trauma. So maybe you should see someone, you know, to talk to. I’m worried about you. Maybe if you talked to a professional,” her friend insisted and gave her a name of a local psychologist. “You are getting too skinny—not to mention the bags under your eyes.”
She’d hugged her friend and taken the psychologist’s number. “I’m strong. I’ll be all right. I just need to work.”
Except that she was having trouble following the simplest of recipes. After completely spacing out at a catered event—Kara had caught the mistake and saved them—she’d burst into tears and finally made the call.
