by B. J Daniels
Hadn’t she read somewhere that bears ate people in Montana? Grizzly bears. Was this a grizzly? Probably, with her luck. From the size of the bear, it looked as if it could get into the cabin without any problem and she had no doubt that it would break in if she didn’t scare it away.
She beat the pan as hard as she could, her heart pounding louder than the spoon on the bottom of the pan. Moving quietly to the door, she opened it a crack and looked out. She couldn’t see its shadow on the porch anymore. Maybe she’d chased it off.
She stepped farther out on the porch. No sign of the bear but she kept beating the pan just in case as she inched along the porch to the side of the cabin.
The bear reared up in surprise to see her. Not half as surprised as she was to see it. She turned and ran, afraid to slow down to make the ninety-degree turn back into the cabin let alone to get the door closed and locked before the bear burst into the cabin.
Her feet barely touched the porch as she flew across it expecting to feel the bear’s breath on her neck any moment.
Climb a tree! She was looking for a tree she could climb, pounding the pan as hard as she could as she ran, afraid to look back—
Something clawed at her shoulder with enough force to spin her around. She shrieked, and instinctively closed her eyes and swung the pan. She heard the pan thump off something solid and swung again.
J.T. LET OUT AN OATH and grabbed for her, but she nailed him again with the pan, knocking his hat into the dust. “Dammit, Reggie! What in the hell is wrong with you?”
She opened her eyes. They were bigger and bluer than ever in her pale, frightened face. “I thought—” She seemed to be trying to catch her breath, her substantial chest moving up and down with the effort.
He rubbed the knot rising on his forehead with one hand and leaned down to pick up his hat from the dirt with the other. “Are you nuts?”
She grimaced as her gaze went to his bruised forehead. “Sorry.”
“Yeah.” He gingerly settled his hat back on his head and took the pan and spoon from her. The woman had beat huge craters into the bottom of the aluminum pan. He frowned at her. “Why in the world were you—”
“Buck told me to do it.”
He eyed her. “Are you sure you got the directions right? What exactly were you trying to cook?”
She mugged an unamused face at him and stepped around him to point back toward the cabin. “I was trying to scare the bear away.”
He turned. “What bear?”
“It must have gone into the cabin.”
He shot her a disbelieving look. “You’re sure it was a bear?”
“I know a bear when I see one. I think it’s a grizzly.”
He nodded, skeptical on all counts. “Come on,” he said impatiently as he started toward the cabin.
At the porch, Reggie hung back. He shook his head as he crossed the porch. The woman was going to be the death of him. As he peered around the doorjamb, he was relieved to see that there was no bear in the cabin but he heard something around the corner.
Moving to the end of the porch, he looked around the corner and spotted a small black bear rummaging in something along the side of the cabin. He turned to find Reggie had joined him, hiding behind him for protection.
“Buck told you to bang on a pan if you saw a bear?” he asked incredulously. He hated to think what she’d have done if he’d given her a real weapon.
“It’s a grizzly, isn’t it,” she whispered.
“No, it’s just a young black bear.”
“Just?”
He stomped his boots on the flooring. “Go on, get!” he called out to the bear.
The bear lifted its head. J.T. could feel Reggie’s body pressed against his back, her fingers digging into his ribs as she held on.
“I said, get!” he hollered again and tossed the battered pot at the bear’s rump. It startled the young bear. He loped off into the pines.
“It’s gone,” J.T. said to Reggie, but he wondered what the bear had been so interested in beside the cabin.
Reggie loosened her hold on him and he stepped off the porch to investigate. He hadn’t gone far when he saw what the bear had been in to. It looked as if a hen house had exploded, there were so many eggshells on the ground. With a groan, he turned to look back at Reggie. She was standing at the edge of the porch, still looking scared.
“You didn’t throw food out here, did you?” he asked, knowing full well that she had.
“Food?” she repeated.
He watched her wet her lips, calling more attention to her mouth than he really needed her to do. She glanced after the bear, then at the eggshells on the ground and the marks where the bear had torn up the earth. For a moment, she only chewed at that soft-looking plump lower lip.
“I wouldn’t exactly call what I tossed out food,” she said slowly. “Just some practice pancakes and a…few eggshells.”
He shook his head at her. “Reggie…” He took a breath, trying to control his temper. “This is bear country. You put out food and you’re going to attract bears and I don’t think that’s what you want to do.”
Her eyes came up to meet his. For a moment, he almost lost himself in all that sky-blue.
“Not only that, having bears in camp is real hard on pans,” he said, no longer able to hide a grin.
“Very funny.” She did not look amused.
He reminded himself that she was a city girl and as out of her element as she could get. If he went to L.A., there would probably be things that would scare him and make him look foolish.
He handed her the spoon and went to pick up the pan and clean up the garbage to keep the bear from coming back. As he did, he found himself fighting back a grin at just the memory of her charging through the woods, banging that pan. The woman was something, he’d give her that.
Men often underestimated women. Not that he thought any man was prepared for a woman like Reggie. Look what she’d done to poor unsuspecting Buck. Look what she’d done to him. He remembered the way she’d looked last night in the cabin, all doe-eyed and apologetic. It still annoyed him how she’d made him feel guilty as if it were his fault she was here.
He heard her behind him and turned to hand her the battered pan.
She glanced again in the direction where the bear had disappeared. “What do I do if the bear comes back?”
He heard the worry in her voice. “He shouldn’t unless you cook up something for him again.”
She mugged a face at J.T. The color had come back into her cheeks and she no longer looked frightened, but her eyes were still large and bottomless and clear as a high mountain lake. It was hard not to take a dip in them.
He realized that the bear had been a blessing of sorts. “But if I were you, I’d stay in the cabin just in case,” he said, knowing that’s exactly what a city girl would do after seeing a bear. And at least with her locked in the cabin, he shouldn’t have to worry about her. Unless she really did set the cabin on fire or tried to cook or— Best not to think about it.
“Just try to stay out of trouble,” he said, then turned and headed for his horse. His head hurt from where she’d hit him and he still had cattle to round up. He hoped to hell Buck hurried back.
REGINA STOOD on the porch, torn between doing exactly what he’d said—locking herself in the cabin until he returned—and seeing him in the saddle.
She hurried to the edge of the porch, peered around the corner and watched as he strode back to where he’d left his huge horse. She watched him swing up into the saddle. If she’d had any doubts how his buns would look on a horse, she didn’t anymore. He was perfect. The consummate cowboy keister.
Now all she had to do was find a way to get him to do the commercial, she thought as she watched him ride away. For the first time, she realized that might not happen. She might fail. She shoved the thought away. Over her dead body!
She stood at the edge of the porch watching him ride up the hillside, mentally willing him to turn, to look back
. If he didn’t turn, there was no way he was going to do the commercial. If he did—
He was almost to a stand of white-barked trees, the golden leaves flickering in the morning breeze, when he looked back.
She quickly ducked behind the corner of the cabin, smiling. J. T. McCall wasn’t as immune to her as he pretended. She was getting to him.
Feeling better, she turned, glad to see that there was no bear at the end of the porch. But as she started to take a step, she heard a sound. The crack of a twig off in the trees, then another. Something was out there. Something big enough to break a stick.
Heart pounding, she glanced over her shoulder, expecting to see the bear behind her. Or something worse, although she couldn’t imagine what that would be.
Hearing the crack of another limb breaking, she turned, thinking it might be one of the men who’d come back for something.
She looked toward the tents, the trees blocking her view, then up the hillside toward the corrals. Nothing.
Listening, she waited, thinking that if it was one of the men he would say something to her. She heard no sounds of the men or the cows. She didn’t know which direction they’d ridden off in or how far away they’d gone. Mostly, she realized, she was vulnerable out there for whatever might be in the woods.
She hurried back inside the cabin and locked the door. J.T. hadn’t said when they’d be back. She tossed another log on the woodstove and eyed the lower bunk. It was the best she was going to do.
J.T. RODE TOWARD the sound of lowing cattle. As he came up over a rise, he saw the undulating herd below him in the wide pasture and stopped to get his feet back under him. This was what he had been born to do. Be a rancher. He loved the sight and sound of the herd, preferred to be on a horse than in a pickup and would fight any man—or woman—who tried to take it from him. And had.
He knew that was what was worrying him. That history was starting to repeat itself. The dead cow. Truck trouble. One cowhand already gone. It hadn’t happened in the same way nine years ago but the similarity was enough to scare him. On top of that, there was Reggie. Maybe that worried him the most because he felt protective toward her. Hell, someone had to protect the woman.
Nevada rode toward him and J.T. knew at once that something was wrong. “I found a dead cow I thought you might want to take a look at.”
J.T. nodded and followed Nevada back through the towering pines. It was cool and dark under the dense green boughs where the morning sun hadn’t reached yet. He breathed in the pine scent, filling his nostrils with it, knowing that soon he would be smelling burned hide.
The cow lay on its side at the edge of a small ravine. It had been killed, its side slit open, its innards removed and then a fire built in the carcass.
“Have you ever seen anything like this?” Nevada asked, sounding spooked.
Unfortunately J.T. had. “It’s someone’s idea of a prank.”
Nevada looked at him as if he had to be insane. “This isn’t a prank. This is a warning.”
J.T. nodded and looked Nevada in the eyes. “I think someone’s trying to sabotage my roundup. Or at least make me think they are.”
“Rustlers?”
That would be anyone’s first thought. “Possibly. Could just be someone messing with me. I would prefer you didn’t mention this to the others.”
Nevada held his gaze for a long moment, then nodded.
“I would also understand if you wanted to draw your pay and get the hell out of here,” J.T. said.
Nevada seemed surprised. He laughed. “Not a chance. I wouldn’t mind meeting up with the fellow who did this.”
“Me, too,” J.T. said and listened for sounds of the other men. “That’s one reason I want everyone to keep an eye out for the other men.”
Nevada pushed back his hat and looked back through the pines toward the herd. “You think it’s one of your men.”
“I hope to hell not, but I haven’t seen any sign of anyone else around,” J.T. said, wondering if he was telling Nevada because he trusted him. Or because he didn’t.
“I’ll watch my back,” Nevada said and rode off to join the others.
J.T. sat on his horse for a moment, fighting the urge to go back and check on Reggie and listening for the sound of a truck engine coming up the mountain. Then he spotted a half-dozen strays down in a ravine and past them, what looked like a rope noose hanging from a tree.
Chapter Seven
Regina woke cramped in a ball beneath the blankets. The fire in the stove had died and the cabin felt chilly. What time was it anyway? The sun was now shining low in the window on the opposite side of the cabin.
She sat up, careful not to bang her head again, and listened, wondering if a sound had awakened her. Or just the numbing silence.
Getting up, she put more of the balm on her blisters, then pulled on her boots and went to the door. Shouldn’t Buck be here by now? She’d expected McCall to come back by now. Maybe she wasn’t getting to him as much as she’d hoped.
She ventured out onto the porch, remembering that awful feeling earlier. There had been something out there, she was sure of that. But now, she heard a comforting sound. Cows mooing.
J.T. would be where the cows were, right? She had to admit, she knew nothing about gathering cattle but she knew she wanted to see what he did and the mooing didn’t sound that far away. And there was no sign of the bear.
She promised herself she wouldn’t go far, although the cool air felt good and the balm he’d given her and the Band-Aids she’d found in a first-aid kit made walking possible.
The landscape felt less threatening with the sun coming through the branches to splash the bed of dried needles below in pale gold. The pine boughs shimmered, a silken soft green, and a light breeze flapped playfully at the hem of her western shirt. Overhead, large white cumulus clouds bobbed along in a sea of infinite blue.
As she wound her way through the pines, she took deep breaths of the clear mountain air, surprised that it seemed a little less alien. In fact, even the countryside felt less hostile.
She followed the sound of the cows, weaving in and out of the trees and around huge rocks, thinking about how different it was from Los Angeles, how different the men were in Montana.
She’d reached the edge of a ravine when she suddenly realized she had no idea where she was. Behind her all she could see was trees and rocks and they all looked alike. No cabin.
In front of her there was nothing but more trees and rocks. No street signs. No taxi cabs. No other cabins. And nobody around to ask.
Worse yet, she was having trouble pinpointing exactly where the sound of the cattle was coming from. The mooing seemed to echo through the pines and she had the frightening feeling that the mooing might carry for miles.
Fighting panic, she wondered how anyone would ever find her. Would J.T. even look? Should she try to find her way back? Or keep going in hopes of finding the cattle and help?
Suddenly her blisters were killing her. Why hadn’t she paid more attention to where she was going?
Close to tears, she walked over to a rock at the edge of a clearing. From here she could see a stand of white-barked trees, the leaves golden. She could hear their soft rattle in the breeze, like thin gold coins.
She tried to calm herself. She couldn’t have gone very far. Of course she’d be able to find her way back. Anyone who would drive in L.A. could handle this.
But she did wonder how long it would take before someone came looking for her if she couldn’t. She wished she’d thought to leave a trail of bread crumbs, but then, that would probably have just led a bear to her.
She heard a noise. Something large crashing through the trees on the other side of the clearing. A large dark object came running out of the pines, kicking up the fallen gold leaves. She let out a cry as she saw that it was a horse, its mouth foaming, its eyes wild. It ran at her.
Her heart in her throat, she stumbled to her feet and tried to get out of the horse’s path. In her hurry, sh
e didn’t see the tree root. The next thing she knew she was face down on the ground—and in pain.
“Oh.” She’d hit the ground hard but it was her ankle that hurt. She’d twisted it badly as she’d fallen. As she lay in the dirt she wondered if this was where McCall would find her body come spring.
She sat up. She’d be damned if she would just lie in the dirt and wait for someone to find her. Using the tree trunk for support, she worked her way to standing on her good ankle. She tried her other ankle and groaned.
One thing was clear, she wasn’t going far.
This had been a fool thing to do. Following McCall out here. She looked around, trying to decide which direction to try to walk in. The last thing she wanted was to run into that horse again. She didn’t know there were wild horses out here. What was she saying? She didn’t have any idea what was out here in the wild.
She turned, startled again as a half-dozen brown-and-white faced cows trotted past to drop out of sight.
The cows brought tears of relief to her eyes but nothing like the voice she heard behind them. Limping, she followed the cows to the edge of the clearing and saw that they had dropped down into a small rocky ravine.
Bracing herself against a small pine, she stood on the edge in the pines as the cowboy’s voice floated up to her.
“Go on, get up there,” J.T. called softly to the cows as he rode into sight below her.
At first all she saw was his worn black hat and a glimpse of his yellow-checked western shirt and blue jean jacket through the brush.
She could hear other cattle now and saw through the pine boughs dozens of cows in a wide open meadow farther down the mountain—in the direction J.T. was headed. Her gaze quickly returned to him as he came into full view below her.
She had planned to call out to him but instead she stayed unmoving in the shelter of the pine, watching him herd the cows through the bottom of the ravine. There seemed to be little wasted motion and she wondered how many times he’d done this particular task before.
