by Alice Sharpe
Unless this person was hiding behind a rock with a high-powered rifle with a telescopic scope... It was impossible not to feel like there was a target on her forehead.
And yet, it occurred to her that all the incidents had something in common in that they were all meant to appear like an accident. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that whoever had planted the spiders had been watching from somewhere. It was pretty suspicious the way the evidence had disappeared when she’d run to the river.
It would be a lot more efficient to just shoot her or stick a knife between her ribs, but those means would announce murder. That meant her death was meant to seem accidental, the result of a foiled purse thief at a bus stop, a stray arrow or a run-in with poisonous spiders.
The trail would soon begin the descent toward the river, so Julie pulled on the reins and stopped the wagon. Ned whinnied and tossed his big head, while Gertie sniffed at the branch of a tree.
Andy once again tethered his horse’s halter to the back of the wagon. He grabbed his shotgun out of its sheath and his trusty thermos and came around to climb into the wagon, stowing the shotgun beneath the seat.
He took the time to unscrew his thermos and pour himself a cup. Julie once again declined to join him, wishing she was a bigger fan of coffee because there was a chill to the morning that made her pull her denim jacket closer around her body. A jolt of caffeine couldn’t help but chase away some of the latent fatigue that made the insides of her eyelids scratchy, but one look at the black brew Andy was sipping like champagne chased the temptation away.
The river was wide at this point, fanning out and running in braided rivulets separated by islands of gravel. Julie could see some white water, but it was downstream a ways where the river must get deeper as the various channels merged once again.
“Ain’t much more than two-feet deep across here, but as cold as hell is hot. Melting snow, you know.”
Julie recalled the dip in the river the night before—technically, earlier that day—and shivered. He was right. It was cold.
He took another swig of coffee, draining the cup and handing it to Julie so he could use both hands to take the team down a deeply rutted slope to the river beach. She twisted the cap on the thermos and wedged it on the seat between them.
“Had us some warm days this spring,” Andy said, rubbing his eyes with one fist. “Looks like there’s been...been some more melting...water looks, you know...a little rougher than it did in May. Deeper, too.”
“Is it safe?” she asked as she held on to the seat.
“Might be swift is all,” he said. “Might get wet...”
Julie heard the effort it took for Andy to speak. He must be concentrating like mad on communicating directions via signals with the reins exactly what he wanted the team to do. She found entering the river extremely unnerving as the wagon swayed from side to side.
“Gettin’...a...little tumbly,” Andy said, and added, “...mean, rocky...might roll...some...if we mit, hit, a thing...a dent...a...you know...gutter...with the treel...or a...or a...bole.”
Julie looked at him, alarmed by the sound of his voice, the way he grasped for words, words that made no sense. She found his head bent forward until his chin rested on his collarbone, his eyes half-closed. She shook his arm. “Andy! What’s wrong?”
His head snapped back and he looked up at her, blinking, his gaze unfocused. “Don’t feel...” he stammered, and took off his hat. It immediately blew out of his hand but he didn’t seem to notice.
Julie attempted to take the reins from Andy, but he wouldn’t release them even though he’d slumped against her arm. “Andy, let me have the reins,” she said, prying at his fingers. She looked over the side of the wagon, at the rushing water.
The reins suddenly grew slack in Andy’s hands and the horses seemed to falter with the lack of direction. She reached out to take control. Andy stood abruptly and Julie grabbed the hem of his jacket, afraid he was going to tumble overboard. He was unsteady on his feet and stumbled back to a sitting position, hitting the seat hard, sliding forward and landing on top of the reins Julie now held. That tightened the bits in the horses’ mouths. Ned and Gertie lurched forward as though confused. Julie, still fighting to get Andy’s deadweight off the reins and keep him from going over the front of the wagon, fell sideways with the bumpy movement, hitting the edge of the seat. She grabbed for a handhold, but the only thing she could find was the thermos, which didn’t help.
Andy groaned and apparently tried to rouse himself as the horses, apparently fed up with the mixed signals, bolted for the other shore. Andy’s shifting body was the final straw for Julie’s delicate balance and she tripped over his torso, falling against the seat. She heard the rip of cloth and then she was falling again until she hit the water with a splash.
The wagon and horses were suddenly gone, the world reduced to two or three feet of icy-cold water. Although the current instantly swept her away, Julie wasn’t too concerned. All she needed to do was grab on to the rocks on the bottom of the river to stop her momentum and stand up....
But she couldn’t get a grip on the rocks, they were too covered with moss and slime and her hands slipped from their rounded surfaces. The current pushed her downstream, the river growing deeper as it went, faster, too, as the rivulets merged. Struggling to keep her head above the surface, she fought to get her legs down under her so she could stand, but she never stayed in one spot long enough to accomplish that. She swam toward the shore, but she was going very fast now and when she reached out to grab low-lying branches, the current swept her past, ripping leaves from her cold hands before she could get a good grip.
A log arching out over the water appeared up ahead. She did her best to position herself to grab it with one arm. She didn’t see the broken spur extending straight out from the log until it grazed her face, almost poking out her eye. She lost the branch and was sucked under the water again. For a second, she wasn’t sure which way was up. It was like being stuck inside a giant washing machine.
When she finally reached the surface again, she gasped for air and took in a mouthful of water. The river sounded different and she realized she was approaching rapids where huge rocks formed channels of their own and the river flow funneled at ever-increasing speeds through any opening it could find.
For the first time, the thought crossed her mind that she might not live through this....
* * *
TYLER TOOK HIS HAT OFF and wiped his brow with his arm. The day had grown warm, the early summer sun a shimmering light high in the blue sky.
A mile or so behind him, the herd was moseying along, guests and wranglers alike having a pretty easy ride. That would change once they got to the river. And then on the far side, the land would grow increasingly hilly and rocky making the riding trickier.
Tyler had told each of his people to keep a close eye on the guests assigned to them. Usually, with a group this small, everyone kind of looked out for everyone else, but after the things that had happened to Julie, it was clear a better method needed to be employed.
Julie and Andy would be well across the river by now, headed for the ravine. The day after, they would all start up the mountains following a trail of switchbacks that would take them into the least hospitable country of the ride. That land belonged to another rancher who had granted them the right to cross his land twice a year. Then they’d circle back to their own property and attain the meadow where the cattle would spend the summer grazing on the high mountain grasses. After a day there, they would head back.
Usually, Tyler hated to see one of these trips end, but this one was different. He wanted to find out who was trying to hurt Julie and why. He wanted to make sure whatever can of worms she inadvertently opened in Oregon got closed and sealed and buried under a ton of rocks. He wanted to let her go before he couldn’t and that time was coming way faster than he was comfortable with.
He’d figured out a long time ago that he was a one-woman kind of man and since his j
unior year of college, that woman had been Julie. The phrase “For better or worse” had meant something to him, the vows had mattered. That they hadn’t to her had been a bitter pill to swallow and he had a horrible feeling despite his best intentions to keep his feelings in check, he’d soon be choking down that same pill once again.
The river was higher than it had been when he and Andy looked at it a few weeks before, but Yukon splashed in without hesitation, crossing water and gravel bars easily. He climbed the opposite bank, following the trail the wagon must have used two hours earlier.
Tyler’s first indication that something was wrong came when he saw the chuck wagon up ahead. Why had they stopped here and in the middle of the trail instead of going on to the camp? Urging Yukon forward, he arrived a minute later. He tied the horse next to Shasta and walked around to the front of the wagon, his senses on full alert, the silence unnerving.
Andy lay half on the seat, half off it, face up, mouth open, eyes closed. Ned and Gertie whinnied greetings, then went back to nosing the grass, unconcerned about the human drama going on behind them. Tyler took a minute to scan the area, calling Julie’s name, listening for a response and hearing nothing but the river.
He climbed into the wagon and put two fingers against the pulse point in the older man’s throat. His pulse seemed steady, but no amount of gentle patting or calling his name roused him. Tyler finally settled on getting Andy out of the wagon and placing him on the ground in the shade of a tree.
Where was Julie? He got back in the wagon and checked under the cover, but the wagon was loaded with bedrolls and supplies and nothing more. He stood on the seat for a moment, using the higher vantage point to scout the surrounding countryside, but the fact was, Julie just wasn’t anywhere around.
What was going on?
Grabbing the seat, he started to get down and that’s when he found a scrap of light blue denim caught in the edge of the seat where a bit of metal had snagged it. Andy was wearing shades of brown, but Julie had been wearing faded jeans and her old washed-out denim jacket when he saw her last....
“Julie,” he yelled, and then he yelled her name again, looking every which way and finding no trace of movement.
Sitting down, he took up the reins and moved the rig and horses off the trail so the cattle wouldn’t run over it when they came up the bank, then he made himself take the time to get Ned and Gertie out of their harnesses. He stretched a rope between two trees and tied each horse to the rope.
He worked with his heart lodged in his throat, trying to figure out what had happened to Julie. He reached a couple of conclusions. If she’d tried to come back to the herd for help because of Andy, she wouldn’t have left him in the wagon, nor would she have walked. She would have taken Shasta. If that scrap belonged to her, she’d probably lost it today, which might mean she fell. If she’d fallen along the trail, he would have found her already. But if she’d fallen into the water, she might have been pulled downstream by the current. He felt the horses’ legs—they were barely damp. This had all happened a while ago....
He made one last check on Andy, made sure his handgun was loaded and jumped on Yukon. He rode back to the river in a hurry, stopping the horse on the mid sandbar, looking downstream. There was no indication that anything was wrong, but no sign of Julie either on the shore or in the water.
“Come on,” he urged the horse, who began walking down the middle of the river. But it soon got pretty deep and while a horse could swim, swimming downstream didn’t make a whole lot of sense. He crossed to the bank again and got off Yukon. He would walk and lead the horse when he couldn’t see the bank, and when he could he would ride. If Julie was here he would find her.
But, of course, it was possible she’d been taken from the wagon by another person who had ridden off with her to parts unknown. It was possible no one on the cattle drive had anything to do with the incidents of the day before, that there was an unknown force at work.
First he’d check the river and if that didn’t pan out, he’d start in at the wagon and look for tracks. For a second he was torn—if the herd arrived, any tracks would be obliterated by cattle and horses, and he slowed down, undecided.
There came a time when you had to trust your gut. Anyone who worked around thousand-pound animals knew that. And his gut said travel the river back as far as he could. If she’d been nabbed, she was probably dead by now. If she was in the river, she needed him to get her out.
He comforted himself with the fact that his decision was the logical choice given that Andy didn’t look like he was a victim of an ambush. Maybe he’d had a stroke or a heart attack when Julie fell.
“Julie!” Tyler yelled. He led Yukon down toward the water, then back up the bank when the way became too densely wooded, looking for some sign of her. The water was snow runoff and cold and the real danger of hypothermia was a consideration as well.
“Julie!”
What if she’d come out of the water on the other side? Well, he’d cross that bridge when and if he came to it. He got back on Yukon who picked his way over the uneven terrain while Tyler’s gaze darted back and forth across the river.
He was suddenly aware that the sound of rushing water was louder than it had been before and knew it meant the river was approaching the rapids that preceded the calmer water beyond. The land itself suddenly changed, becoming steeper and so cluttered with fallen trees and rampant undergrowth that there was no way for a horse to manage it. He got off Yukon again, left him standing in a safe spot and walked to the water’s edge.
The sun was even higher in the sky, the light clear, the air cool next to the rushing river. He scrambled to the top of a large rock and shaded his eyes, looking upriver and down, scanning both shores, the rapids so nearby now that their noise filled his head.
At first he didn’t see anything but big dark rocks, wet with splashed water. And then he saw what at first glance appeared to be a shadow, but upon closer scrutiny, turned into a human shape—Julie’s shape.
“Julie!” he yelled, and miracle of miracles, she slowly sat up and turned to face him.
She’d ended up atop a rock in the middle of the river, surrounded by white water.
He saw her mouth move, but her voice was swallowed by the sound. “Stay where you are!” he yelled, uncertain she heard him, but really, what choice did she have? He’d bet money that that rock was as slippery as a peeled avocado. There was no way for her to jump from it to the one closer to shore, a distance of at least five feet. He ran back up the bank and grabbed his lasso from Yukon’s saddle, then ran along the river until he was opposite her.
Moving quickly, he balanced himself on the rocks, the leather soles of his boots finding safe passage, until he was standing on the rock closest to her position. He held up the lasso and he saw her nod. Now that he was closer, he could see that she was afraid to stand, afraid she might fall again.
He twirled the rope and threw it and it slipped right over her shoulders as if she were a calf at branding time. With one hand, she guided it down to her waist and held on to it. Even from this distance he could see her chin quivering with cold.
Moving backward, he looped his end of the rope around a tree trunk and then gave her a thumbs-up gesture.
What courage it must have taken for her to slip into that water again. She was instantly tugged downstream, her head disappearing, but there was no way in hell he was going to lose her now, pulling harder than he ever had in his life. She finally got close enough to the shore where the water calmed down and still keeping a purchase on the rope, he reached out a hand and she grabbed it.
A moment later, he’d hauled her out of the water and she fell into his arms, crying from fear and release and joy. Tears stung his own eyes. “I thought I’d never find you,” he said, smoothing her hair away from her eyes, his hands trembling.
“I knew you would,” she said.
He helped her up the bank, taking off his jacket as they walked and putting it around her shoulders. “
I’ll build a fire—”
“Where’s Andy?” she interrupted, her teeth clattering together.
“He’s back at the wagon. I don’t know what’s wrong with him...”
“He just collapsed,” she said. “We have to help him. His heart—”
“But we need to get you out of those wet clothes—”
“No time for that,” she said. “They’ll warm up as we ride. Let’s go now. Hurry.”
The urgency in her voice convinced him she was okay for the time being. Out of the water, the cuts and scrapes were beginning to bleed, but nothing looked terribly serious. He pulled a clean blue bandanna out of his pocket and pressed it against the worst cut, which was on her forehead. She took over applying pressure and he climbed atop Yukon, lowered a hand and helped her into the saddle to sit before him.
As it happened, they arrived back at the wagon just before the first cattle began to cross the river. They found Andy still out like a light, but his breathing was regular and his pulse strong. Between the two of them, they managed to get him into the back of the wagon where he rolled on top of all the bedrolls under the cover, never so much as opening an eye.
“At least he won’t get trampled,” Tyler said. He glanced at Julie who was beginning to show a little color in her face. “You need to put on dry clothes and it should be now rather than later.
“But Andy—”
“You change clothes and I’ll go find Dr. Marquis and get him here to check things out, okay?”
“Yeah, that’s a good idea.”
He caught her chin and when she didn’t pull away, lowered his head and kissed her. “I thought you were dead,” he said.
“So did I.”
They stared into each other’s eyes until Andy snorted in his sleep, and then they both looked down at him. “He looks like he tied one on,” Tyler said. “Like he’s sleeping off an all-night boozer.”
