by B. J Daniels
She quickly pocketed the weapon, turned and started toward the boxed end of the canyon. He followed, limping and reminding himself that he wasn’t up to much more of these kinds of antics.
Ahead of him, Ainsley had stopped next to a spring to retrieve her horse. He watched her swing up into the saddle. There was something both strong and determined about her, as well as vulnerable. He felt a pull stronger than gravity and cursed under his breath.
Just do this job and don’t get involved. Whatever her story is, it ain’t yours. Let’s not forget what happened with the last woman you rescued.
* * *
AINSLEY HAD JUST retrieved her horse and put her gun away when she heard the roar of four-wheelers headed her way. As the sound came to a sudden stop, she caught voices coming from the mouth of the canyon. A few moments later, several of the crew appeared, including Devon “Gun” Gunderson.
“How did you think we were going to be able to shoot in this canyon?” Gunderson demanded. “We could barely get in past the fallen rocks.”
Inwardly she groaned as she glanced around for the cowboy who’d saved her from the rock slide. But he must have slipped out when the others arrived. She realized she hadn’t even thanked him. Nor did she have any idea who he was, other than he was apparently an extra.
She was still shaken, but she did her best to hide it as she discussed possible scenes that could be shot near the entrance to the canyon and other locations she’d found for them. If anyone noticed that she wasn’t herself, neither Gunderson nor the others commented on it.
Her mind kept reliving her near-death experience again and again. Everything had happened so fast. She’d heard what she’d thought was someone in the canyon, but now realized someone on the top of the canyon cliff had started the slide, just as the cowboy had said.
That made her shudder at the realization that she would have followed the sound of the rocks falling—right to her death—if it hadn’t been for her mystery cowboy. She was still trembling from the near miss later when she rode back to the hotel.
* * *
SAWYER HADN’T WANTED to leave Ainsley alone, but once some of the people from the crew had shown up, he’d taken advantage of it. He found a way to get to the top of the canyon walls a few hundred feet past the entrance. A trail of sorts wound up for a spectacular view of the area.
But it wasn’t the view he was interested in. Not wanting to set off another rock slide with people in the canyon, he waited until they’d all left before he moved cautiously toward the rim. He knew exactly what he was looking for—a spot where the rocks had been displaced and any sign of recent footprints.
The wind was strong up here. It sang as it blew through the rocks and pines. He’d left his horse tied up in the pines below. As he walked, he found dozens of footprints. Clearly a lot of people had discovered this spot. He wondered how many people from the production company had known about the trail.
As he neared the edge of the rock cliff, he saw where rocks had recently been displaced. There were fresh tracks next to the spot. He bent down to inspect them. It appeared someone had been walking along the edge of the canyon and stopped at this spot to look down. The footprints ended where rock had broken away and dropped over the side.
Someone wearing man-sized cowboy boots had set off the rock slide. Had the man followed Ainsley? Had he known she was down there and purposely started the rock slide or had it been an accident?
Once he had ridden back and put his horse and saddle away, Sawyer headed for his cabin behind the hotel. He was deciding how to proceed when a female voice called, “Sawyer?”
He turned and swore under his breath as he recognized the last woman he’d rescued. Katherine “Kitzie” McCormick. She walked toward him, squinting in the sun as if she couldn’t believe her eyes. He couldn’t either. What was she doing here? His mind raced for an explanation as to his presence here, realizing he was going to have to tell her the truth, even though it could get him into trouble with his real job if his boss found out.
“Sawyer, what are you doing here?” she demanded in a whisper when she reached him. “I thought you were on medical leave? Tell me they didn’t send you as my backup.” Anger brought her words out in a spurt like machine gun fire. “If you think you are going to come in here like you have always done and save the day—”
“I’m not here...officially.”
That stopped her cold. She took a step back, studying him openly. “What does that mean?”
It was clear that she thought their boss had sent him to check up on her—or save her again if the need arose. “I’m not on the clock officially or unofficially. It’s...personal.”
He caught the twinkle in her eye, the half grin, and cursed his bad luck along with his poor choice of words. Now she thought he was here because of her. He definitely was going to have to tell her the truth. “Is there somewhere we could talk?”
She smiled. “How about my cabin? Oh, hold on a minute,” she said as an old pickup rattled past. “That’s my delivery guy. I forgot he was coming today. I’ll be right back.”
Sawyer watched her take off at a run to intercept the driver of the truck. He couldn’t believe his bad luck at finding Kitzie here, he thought as she stood talking to the driver, a guy wearing his baseball cap on backward.
“You’re working here?” he asked when she joined him again.
Kitzie didn’t answer as she led the way to a cabin on the other side of the wide expanse behind the hotel. As she pulled out the key for cabin No. 3, he worried. Given their history, he knew this could get ugly if he wasn’t careful. She seemed to have it in her head that this was about the two of them. She wouldn’t be happy when she learned the truth. But he couldn’t see what choice he had. He certainly couldn’t let her go on thinking what she was right now.
But what was she doing here? She pushed open the cabin door, and he followed her inside the small, cramped space. Glancing around, he took in the dated knotty pine interior. It was only large enough for a couch, fold-down kitchen table and one folding chair, a tiny kitchen with an old fridge, a miniature bathroom with a toilet and shower, and a bedroom with a bed that had seen better days. All the essentials of home, he thought, realizing his would be exactly like this.
Kitzie moved to the refrigerator, opened it and took out two beers. Without asking him, she handed him one, opened one for herself and curled up at the end of the couch.
He took the folding kitchen chair and pulled it up, rather than joining her on the small couch. She didn’t miss the gesture. A frown crossed her face before she checked it and took a sip of her beer.
“So, what are you doing here?” she asked.
“I’m doing a friend a favor.” That didn’t seem to relieve her curiosity. “So you’re working here?”
“I’m undercover in charge of feeding everyone.”
“You cook?” That would be more surprising than hearing she was undercover.
She rolled her eyes. “I oversee the kitchen. I grocery shop mostly and get two teens from town to do the real cooking.”
“So you’re...undercover?” he repeated, wondering if she was on the same case he was. Maybe Ainsley’s father had made an official request for surveillance on his daughter.
“You first,” Kitzie said. “If you aren’t here...officially, then tell me about this...favor.”
“I thought we might be here for the same reason. One of the other employees here has a stalker.”
Her brow shot up, and he knew that wasn’t her assignment. “A stalker? What employee?”
“Ainsley Hamilton.”
“Ainsley?” She laughed and took a big gulp of her beer. The rich honey-brown eyes he’d once found beautiful had turned dark with instant jealousy at even the mention of another woman. Even one involved in a case. Anger pinched her features. She shook her head
with both disappointment and fury. “And I thought you might be here because of me.”
“I’m sorry you thought that. I think it was pretty clear when we broke up that things were over between us.”
“Did you?” She wiped a hand across her mouth. “So you’re going to save prim and proper Miss Ainsley. That is what you do, isn’t it? Save them and leave them.”
He ignored that, wondering why she had referred to Ainsley as prim and proper. “She doesn’t know who I am. Or, as you said, what I really do. So I’d appreciate it if this stayed just between us. I’m still on medical leave.”
“I noticed you were limping. Another heroic rescue on your part?”
He didn’t answer that. “I’d appreciate it if Ainsley continues to think I’m nothing more than an extra.” He waited for her to agree.
Kitzie took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “So someone is really stalking her?”
“Apparently. Have you noticed anyone on the commercial paying extra attention to her?”
The laugh had barbs in it. “Are you kidding? Every man here has paid her extra attention—not that it’s gotten them anywhere. She’s not...sociable.”
He hated how quickly jealousy had reared its ugly head. He was sure Kitzie had been jealous of Ainsley before this, but now it would be worse. “I’m not interested in her, if that’s what you’re thinking. I’ve never even laid eyes on her before today.”
Her smile was snide. “I’m sure you found her...refreshingly charming.”
He took a sip of his beer and glanced around the cabin. This was one of the reasons their “relationship” hadn’t lasted long. “So, how many people are up here on a daily basis since the commercial began?” he asked, changing the subject.
“It’s a small video production crew, bare bones and, no doubt, low budget. They’re still in preproduction right now and haven’t starting shooting much yet. I can give you a list of the players. Ainsley is still scouting locations. Gun is hard to please.”
“Gun?”
“Devon Gunderson, the producer-director. The rest of his crew he brought up from California with him. He’s only been in town a few weeks.”
If Ainsley’s stalker had been following her for months, then it couldn’t be any of the main crew or Gunderson, Sawyer thought. “I understand some locals have been hired?”
“You mean other than the teenagers I got to cook?” She nodded. “There’s Ted Carter, the wrangler, and Lance Roderick, security.”
“I’ve met Ted. I passed Roderick on the way in. That’s it?”
She nodded. “A few people come and go. As for security, you don’t really need more than someone to keep everyone out of the carnival equipment.”
He glanced toward the window. “I saw the Ferris wheel all the way from the bottom of the mountain,” he said as he watched the deliveryman wander over to talk to some older man working on the Tilt-A-Whirl. “I would imagine it attracts attention. Is it for the commercial?”
Kitzie nodded. “Gun wanted a carnival, so he hired some guy by the name of Ken Hale to haul it up here and get it going. From what I’ve heard, it’s the final shot of the commercial. It will be up and running in the next couple of days. But I doubt you’ll be here that long, once you save Ainsley from her...stalker.”
He could tell that she didn’t believe Ainsley was being stalked. What did she think—that the young woman had made it up to get attention? Probably. It was something Kitzie might have done herself. But she hadn’t seen how afraid Ainsley had been earlier.
Kitzie was letting her unreasonable jealousy get the better of her judgment. He felt a deep sense of regret at the way things had turned out between them as he put down his half-empty beer on the table and rose. “I’d ask about your undercover assignment—”
“It has nothing to do with Ainsley Hamilton or her stalker. Nor am I about to let you in on it. We both know how...involved you get in a case. I don’t want you in mine.”
He nodded. “I cared about you, Katherine. I still do.”
Tears welled in her eyes. “Just not enough, though.”
He couldn’t argue that. “Thanks for keeping it quiet about my real reason for being here,” he said, even though she hadn’t promised. “I’m afraid whoever’s been stalking Ainsley is getting more...aggressive. Just between you and me, Ainsley had a near accident today while out scouting locations.”
“Let me guess,” she said with a laugh. “You saved her.”
Sawyer could see that there was nothing more to be said, so he did something he hated doing. He lied. “It’s good to see you again.”
“Sure it is,” she said.
“If you need my help—”
“I won’t.”
CHAPTER FOUR
AINSLEY SPENT A busy afternoon with the director and the cameraman discussing the logistics of the next few locations. Gunderson was upset about not being able to use Box Canyon. His cameraman, a long-haired thirtysomething named T.K. Clark, suggested some ideas, while “Gun” made more demands of Ainsley to find something perfect. Fortunately, she hadn’t had time to think about earlier and how close she’d come to dying.
She was studying a local map for more ideas, when the woman who ran the cafeteria stopped next to her.
“You’re certainly burning the midnight oil,” Kitzie said. “Did you even have dinner?”
Ainsley was surprised, first, that Kitzie would even notice that she’d been missing at mealtime and, secondly, that the woman was talking to her at all. Since the project had begun, the attractive redhead had been anything but friendly.
“There’s a group getting together around a bonfire,” Kitzie said. “Come on. I heard there would be something to drink. You look like you could use one.”
“Thanks, but I’m not much of a drinker.”
“Well, I am,” the woman said, taking her arm. “And I need the company, so come on.”
For days Ainsley had wished for some female company since all of the crew she worked with were male. Growing up with five sisters, she missed girl talk. Not that she expected that with Kitzie. But she went along because of the woman’s insistence and, also, because she didn’t want to be alone tonight after what had happened in the canyon.
“So, where are you from?” the cafeteria manager asked as they walked toward the glow of a blaze some distance away.
“Beartooth, Montana,” she said and told her about growing up on the ranch with her five sisters and her father. She didn’t mention that she was the daughter of Republican presidential candidate Buckmaster Hamilton. Either Kitzie already knew that or didn’t put it together.
“Huh” was all the woman said when Ainsley finished. By then they had reached the bonfire where the crew had gathered. Even Gunderson had joined them. He stood on the other side of the blaze talking to Ken Hale, the owner of the carnival that would be the last shot before the commercial wrapped.
Hale was a big man with a round red face and a hearty laugh. He and Gunderson seemed to be in deep conversation before Gun, as everyone called him, moved away from the fire.
“I’ll get us something to drink,” Kitzie said, heading for the cooler someone had brought. “Don’t worry. I’m sure there is something nonalcoholic in there.”
* * *
DEVON GUNDERSON TOOK his drink and walked toward the meadow until he reached the Ferris wheel. He turned to look back at the old hotel and the cabins tucked in the pines on the mountainside behind it.
He wished Hale would get some of the rides going. Tonight he’d love to be sitting on the top of the Ferris wheel when the lights came on in the small town in the distance. He did his best thinking far and away from other people.
A splattering of laughter rose beyond the pines where the crew had gathered beside the creek. He could smell the smoke of the campfire dr
ifting on the breeze as he sat down on the Ferris wheel seat. It rocked, creaking under his weight.
From the first time his father had taken him to a carnival he had been enchanted. The lights, the noise, the brittle cheapness of it. He even liked the carnies calling to him, determined to steal his last dime on some game he couldn’t possibly win. And then there had been the rides.
Just thinking about it made him smile. That’s why he had to use a carnival in this commercial, his last. He had to return to that childhood place where he’d first began to dream that he could do whatever he wanted with his life. He’d known at a young age that he wasn’t going to fulfill any of his parents’ fantasies of success. He was cut out for better things. Like the carnival, he liked the sleight of hand, the lure of riches in a game of chance, the promise of something beyond imagination.
“I thought I’d find you here,” Hale said, coming out of the darkness.
He grimaced to himself, having not wanted company. But even if he’d told the old carnie this, it wouldn’t have kept him away. Not a man like Hale.
“Turn this thing on,” Gun said. “I want to go for a ride.”
The older man shook his head. “Even if I could see to crank it up, I’m not going to. Hell, I’d get you up on top and the thing would stop. I don’t think you want to spend the night up there while I’m down here working on it in the dark.”
“You might be surprised.”
Hale shoved him over where he could sit next to him. He was breathing hard after the walk all the way out here in the meadow. “You sure picked an out-of-the-way place for this little...get-together.”
“I like it out here.” When he’d first seen the hotel, he’d been tempted to buy it when this was all over. He had thoughts of restoring it, making the place earn its keep, but had quickly realized that he wouldn’t have liked it once it was full of noisy tourists.
“Aren’t you going to miss it?” Hale asked.
Gun knew he wasn’t referring to this place. “It’s time. As that old gambling song goes, you’ve got to know when to hold ’em and know when to fold ’em.”
