Montana Refuge

by Alice Sharpe

  The man closest to her was of dark complexion and built like a linebacker. He was the one doing most of the talking, punctuating his sentences with jabs of a finger. The other man was shorter with an average build, sharp features, colorless eyes and thin lips. He wore a badge on his belt and it showed because he’d pushed his jacket aside to bury his hands in his trouser pockets.

  In a world gone topsy-turvy, she recognized Roger Trill and he carried the same badge Officer Yates had shown her.

  What was he doing here?

  He glanced up as though sensing someone staring at him. She’d dropped her hand in surprise and their gazes locked. He appeared as shocked to see her as she was to see him.

  He instantly interrupted his fellow officer and moved quickly down the hall toward the door leading into this office. Julie looked around frantically. Part of her wanted to stand her ground and demand to know what game he was playing. Another part of her, the part that relied on instinct, said get away. Now!

  There was a second exit at the far end of the room. She grabbed her handbag from the floor and took off toward that door, scooting past people as fast as she dared, waiting for one of them to stop her. She looked back only once to see if Trill or whoever he really was, had followed. He was behind her, all right, his face set in a grim frown. She glimpsed the glint of silver on his wrist as he pushed a chair out of the way. His face was rigid with fury....

  Julie exited into the stairwell and ran up a flight of stairs, sure Trill would assume she went down. She paused midstep as the door below her opened. Trill’s footsteps pounded down the well as the door closed behind him. Julie resumed climbing.

  She didn’t know the building. She wasn’t sure how to hide or how to get away. She fled to the women’s restroom, but that was hardly a long-term solution. All she carried was her handbag and her only loose clothing was her now-smudged and torn raincoat. The damn thing was as red as a cape at a bullfight. Add her waist-length black hair and the fact she was five foot seven inches to say nothing of the blinding-white bandage wrapped around her head and she knew she stood out.

  Looking at herself in the mirror, she chose the most obvious solution. Off came the bandage, revealing the scrapes on her forehead. She left the one covering her cheek in place as it was tinged pink in places and a bandage had to be better than blood dripping off her jaw. Up went her hair. She turned her lightweight coat inside out to reveal the tan lining and pulled the hood up over her head.

  Sunglasses from the depths of her purse came next. She still looked like Julie Chilton, but maybe not if you were expecting different attire. It would have to do. It took every ounce of courage she had left to head back to the stairs.

  The trip through the station was nerve-racking even though she more or less ran the whole time. Trill had pushed her in front of a bus, she was sure of it. She couldn’t prove it, though, she just knew....

  Somehow she reached the sidewalk without incident and crossed the street. She hurried along with her head down and caught the first city bus that came by. She didn’t care about its route as long as it took her away from this area. It actually traveled past the station again and she peeked carefully through the window. Trill stood on the sidewalk, looking north and then south. As she watched, he took from his breast pocket a pair of sunglasses and perched them on his nose.

  They had orange lenses.

  She couldn’t go to her office because James Killigrew hated the sight of her. She couldn’t go home because Trill knew where she lived. She’d resided in Oregon less than a year and the one friend she’d made was a neighbor who worked swing shift at a restaurant and then checked in on her ailing brother before finally arriving home around midnight. Even if Nora was home, though, how could Julie add to her responsibilities, and how could Nora possibly help?

  Whatever was going on, Julie knew she’d landed smack-dab in the middle of it. Someone wanted her dead. Why would Trill lie to her about being a policeman? Why would he try to eliminate her when she called to challenge him? For that matter, how did he know she’d called his phony office if he didn’t work there? Or did he know?

  How did things get to this point? What did she do now?

  Chapter Two

  Tyler Hunt, whistling a tune that was stuck in his head, looked up from unloading bags of grain when he heard the approach of a vehicle. An airport shuttle van rambled down the road, carrying, no doubt, either a Boston attorney named Red Sanders or a doctor by the name of Rob Marquis. Everyone else had already arrived.

  The Hunt ranch was a working operation covering thousands of acres of land. Anyone who signed up for the biyearly cattle drive had to be willing to work because what went on here was the real deal. Cows and their calves had to be herded from the winter pastures in the basin up to the high mountain pastures for summer grazing; greenhorns and pros worked together to make it happen.

  The shuttle stopped in the big parking area and a middle-aged man with a handlebar mustache and brand-new buckskin chaps climbed out of the back. Hard to tell which he was, a doctor or a lawyer. As the driver retrieved his suitcase, the man looked around with a big grin on his ruddy face. Tyler smiled; enthusiasm always boded well.

  A slam of the door up at the house announced Tyler’s mother, Rose Hunt, had also witnessed the arrival and taken time from stocking the chuck wagon to play hostess. A tiny dynamo of a woman who Tyler knew was as tough as the earth she tended, twice as strong as she looked and four times as softhearted, she walked out to the van with a little less enthusiasm than usual, exchanged pleasantries with the driver and picked up the newcomer’s suitcase as the van took off back toward town.

  Tyler heard the name Sanders float across the yard—the guy in the chaps had to be the lawyer—as John Smyth, another guest who had arrived earlier in the day, came out of the house. He took the suitcase from Tyler’s mother, who seemed reluctant to release it. As Smyth turned to the lawyer, Rose took off toward the house. It apparently didn’t occur to Red to tote his own bag. Couldn’t help but wonder how a guy like that was going to handle herding cattle without someone holding his hand, but you never knew.

  Smyth was a strapping, tall man in his late thirties with dark eyes, a quick wit and helpful disposition. He’d been here only a few hours, but Tyler had spotted him everywhere, talking to everyone, listening with the kind of concentration that encouraged people to open up. He seemed particularly interested in the workings of the ranch and appeared to be a natural when it came to riding and roping.

  Tyler kept at the grain, whistling as he worked. There were a good dozen sacks left to unload and tote inside the barn. Rose would make the lawyer feel at home, serve him up something cold to drink, introduce him to the others, get him started with orientation. Then later Tyler would make a grand entrance and give a little pep talk.

  Another vehicle caught his attention. This one was familiar, too, as it was the farrier’s big white rig. Tyler had been expecting him for hours and was relieved he’d made it. One of the horses they used to pull the chuck wagon had thrown a shoe the day before, so Lenny had had to make an unscheduled visit three weeks earlier than usual. Tyler threw a sack down on top of the others and jumped out of the truck.

  At six foot two inches and muscled from thirty-four years of ranch life, Tyler was a formidable man in his own right, but the farrier always made him feel like a dwarf. What everyone who met Lenny soon recognized, however, was that he had the disposition of a sweet kid. The horses loved him.

  The truck stopped close by and Lenny launched his six-foot-six-inch, 250-pound frame from the cab. “Sorry I’m late,” he bellowed in a deep voice that lived up to the packaging. “Got tied up over at Hidden Hollow. So, you’re having trouble with Ned?”

  Tyler explained about the thrown shoe.

  “I’ll get started on him. The rest of your string isn’t due for reshoeing for almost a month. Long as I’m here, you want me to check ’em out? I’m not due at the Blister Ranch till tomorrow morning.”

  “Sure,�
� Tyler said, taking off his hat and wiping his forehead with his sleeve. “You’re welcome to spend the night. We can offer you a bed and a decent dinner.”

  “No need. You know me, I’m like a turtle, carry my little home on my back.” With this he gestured at the dusty camper on the rear of his truck. Tyler wasn’t altogether sure Lenny could stand up straight in the thing. Behind the truck he pulled a big trailer that he called his office. It was filled with supplies and equipment as Lenny went from ranch to ranch on a six-week cycle keeping the horses’ hooves in top condition.

  “Suit yourself,” Tyler said, pulling his hat back on his head. “Tell me if you need anything.”

  “I’ll just get started and, you know, let you two talk,” Lenny said, his voice lower.

  Tyler’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean? Let who talk?”

  Lenny looked back at his truck and made a little motion with his fingers. The passenger door squeaked open. The glare on the windshield had obscured the fact that Lenny had a passenger.

  “I ran across her in town,” Lenny said under his breath. “Because I was coming out here anyway—well, I’ll just go see about Ned.” He made a point of walking toward the horse barn without looking back.

  Tyler’s jaw literally dropped as a woman appeared.

  Julie?

  For what felt like a month, they just stared at each other, he frozen to the ground, she half in and half out of the truck. He took in her sheath of glossy black hair, her deep brown eyes, the elegant features of her face. A year had passed since he’d last seen her, but right that second, it seemed like a lifetime or maybe even someone else’s lifetime.

  “What do you want?” he finally managed to say in a voice he didn’t even recognize. It was hard to sound normal when there was a knife twisting in his heart.

  That unfroze her. “Well, hello to you, too.” She slammed the truck door and leaned back against it, arms held across her chest, chin up.

  She’d always been on the tall, slender side, but she was really thin now, too much so. She was also beat up on her face and what he could see of her arms, like she’d been in a fight. There was something else—a furtive look, a jumpiness he’d never witnessed in her before.

  Had she left him to get tangled up with some kind of vicious jerk? That was the exciting new life she’d dreamed about? The wonderful world of domestic abuse?

  “I need to talk to you,” she said with a defiant tone to her voice. Or maybe it wasn’t defiance. Maybe it was nerves.

  “I know I haven’t signed the divorce papers,” he told her. “I will, though. Been busy.”

  “It’s not about that.”

  He turned his back on her and returned to his truck. With one leap he was in the bed again, hefting sacks of grain, moving faster now, fired up with nerves.

  She followed him and then stopped. Standing a few feet away, she murmured, “It wasn’t easy coming back here, you know.”

  “Then why did you?”

  It took her a moment to answer and when she did, her voice shook. “Tyler, I’ve messed everything up.”

  He glanced at her, hoping the look in his eyes communicated the fact that he thought she was an expert at messing things up and he wasn’t interested in it anymore. When she started to continue, he cut her off.

  “Don’t tell me, Julie. I don’t care. Just leave.”

  Her response came quicker this time. “How do you suggest I do that? Lenny is my ride.”

  “Walk. Fly. You left once, you can do it again.”

  “Tyler, please listen to me. I need—”

  He threw the bag to the ground and cut her off with a single slice of his hand. “No, you listen to me.” He stopped and shook his head but didn’t add anything because he didn’t know what to add.

  Below him, Julie rubbed her temples. The action exaggerated the sharp angles of her shoulders. He hitched his hands on his waist and stared at his boots for a second, taking deep breaths.

  He had to stop acting like a hurt kid. Fact was, she couldn’t walk all the way back to town and he wasn’t about to be alone in a vehicle with her. He could get one of the many ranch hands to give her a ride, but looking around, he didn’t see a soul.

  “You can stay until Lenny leaves,” he finally said. “Try to keep out of the way. We’re leaving on a cattle drive in the morning and everyone is pretty damn busy.”

  “What about Rose?”

  “My mother? What about her?”

  “Maybe she could use some help.”

  “I doubt she wants your help,” he said. In truth, his mom liked Julie and would probably love to see her, but that would just up the pressure on him to be reasonable and accommodating, neither of which he felt inclined to be, not with Julie, not now.

  “I guess not,” Julie said. “That’s another bridge I burned, isn’t it? Rose probably hates me. I shouldn’t have come.”

  Was he curious what had brought her back? So what if he was? He’d live with not knowing. He lifted another sack and heard himself say, “Cabin eight is empty. It’s yours for the night.”

  The relief in her voice was genuine. “Thank you.” Then she added, “But Tyler, please, can’t we talk for a moment?”

  Bag atop his shoulder, he paused and looked down at her. “I’m very busy...”

  “It’ll only take a minute.”

  “Just stop,” he said with a sarcastic laugh and a sweeping glance. “I’m not falling for that. Look at you. You’re a mess. Something bad is going on. Man trouble? New boyfriend got a temper?”

  “You’re acting like a jerk,” she said.

  “There you go. I’m a jerk. No news flash there, right?” It went against every ingrained instinct of his to turn her away, but there came a time when a man had to look after himself.

  She turned with a flourish and stomped toward Lenny’s truck. Maybe she planned to sit in the front seat all night. Fine with him. As he kept at his job, he saw her retrieve a large paper bag and a purse from the front seat, then walk off toward the line of pine cabins south of the main house which doubled as a lodge. She was traveling kind of light.

  He looked away from her retreating form. When he heard a door close up at the cabins, he dropped the sack he held in his arms and sank onto the side of the truck bed, winded not with effort but something else, something deep inside his chest that felt as if it was sucking the breath out of his lungs.

  Julie was back. And just like that, everything felt different. He rubbed his eyes and swore under his breath.

  * * *

  AT FIRST JULIE LOCKED the door, sat on the edge of the double bed and tried to pull herself together. Coming face-to-face with Tyler had been a lot rougher than she’d anticipated.

  For two days of an endless bus ride where every stop and every new person to board loomed as a potential threat, she’d been afraid to sleep and too frazzled to eat. Getting to the ranch had been her solitary goal.

  And now she was here and sure enough, just as she’d known in her heart of hearts, Tyler hated her. Couldn’t stand the sight of her. Winced when he looked at her.

  Damn.

  She finally got to her feet and pulled the curtain aside. The blinds were open, and through them she could see that Tyler was still in the back of the big truck, hard at work.

  It had been over a year since she’d seen him and time had done nothing to lessen his physical appeal. If anything, he was more dynamic than ever, his shoulders and chest broader, body leaner, face more chiseled. The ease with which he handled those fifty-pound bags of grain was remarkable and the memory of those strong arms closing around her in the dead of the night still made her ache with loss.

  How could two people who were so right together also be so wrong?

  She let the curtain fall back into place. She’d screwed everything up. Everything. What had made her think Tyler would want anything to do with her? Now what?

  She finally realized she still carried the brown paper bag and set it on top of the dresser. It held the only posses
sions she had with her—a second pair of jeans so new they still bore their tags, underwear and a couple of T-shirts, all purchased in town before coming out to the ranch. She was down to about twenty dollars in cash and she was afraid to use her credit cards or cell phone because Roger Trill was a cop, and didn’t that mean he had access to data banks and records?

  She wasn’t sure. She didn’t know. If he was working independently from the department, if he was a crook, then maybe he would have to be cautious about drawing attention to himself. Maybe he would just cut his losses and forget about her.

  She’d never talked about this ranch to anyone, not even her friendly neighbor or the other woman in the office or the lady who did her dry cleaning who was crazy about country western music and would have loved to talk about Montana. She hadn’t used the name Hunt since leaving here. She’d figured if she needed so desperately to change her life, to give up what she had in order to find herself, well, then, she shouldn’t rely on the past.

  Gee, hadn’t that worked out well?

  A fresh start, that’s what she’d wanted. She’d chosen Oregon because she’d never been there. She’d found the job with Dr. Killigrew almost immediately and been thrilled to discover it included occasional travel and adventure. And it paid well. She’d rented an apartment and spent her paychecks furnishing and decorating it. There wasn’t one thing there that even hinted at ranch life. She’d made a place she could call a home. A fresh start. A new life.

  There was a phone sitting on the nightstand, a holdover from the pre-electronic days when every room had had a land-based line. Today was a Thursday, which meant her neighbor Nora had worked the morning shift and might be away from work by now. Julie sat down on the side of the bed and placed the call. Nora picked up almost immediately and her relief at hearing the call was from Julie brought tears to Julie’s eyes. Someone still liked her.

  “I’ve been worried about you,” Nora cried.