by B. J Daniels
He tried to concentrate, but he kept thinking about how he’d felt waking up next to her this morning. He hadn’t wanted her to wake up just yet. He loved holding her, smelling her, feeling the warmth of her body next to his own. He’d wanted her there always, he thought as they rode along, the cameras rolling behind them. And just the thought scared the hell out of him.
They reached the mark. On cue, Faith reared her horse and took off at a gallop, leaning over the mount as if for dear life.
Jud went after her, his heart suddenly pounding as if this were real, as if Faith really were in trouble and if he didn’t catch her he might lose her.
He never had such crazy thoughts before during stunts. It was from seeing her hurt and confused last night, from being afraid for her. He recalled the odd feeling he’d gotten last night at dinner with his family and Faith. She’d felt so right there. Almost as if she belonged.
He caught up to her and reached for her, pulling her over onto his horse as he reined to a stop and dropped to the ground to take her in his arms, relieved to have the stunt over, to have her safe.
“Got it in one!”
He barely heard the director. His heart was thunder in his chest as he pulled Faith to him, holding her as if for dear life as he brushed her hair back from her face and their eyes met.
Zander yelled, “Keep rolling,” but Jud didn’t comprehend the words.
His mouth dropped to Faith’s and he kissed her with a fervor like none he’d ever known—just as the script called for—only he was no hero and this was no longer fiction.
FAITH CAME OUT of the kiss slowly to the sound of applause. She’d completely forgotten about the film crew the moment Jud had pulled her into his arms and kissed her.
“Cut!”
She drew back now, startled to see all the people watching them, smiling and clapping. Even director Erik Zander was smiling—a miracle in itself.
“That’s a wrap. Another storm’s moving in. We’re moving to the covered set for the saloon scene.” Zander looked over at Faith. “Good job, Bailey.” Then he turned and walked off before Faith could say “Thank you.”
Her legs were wobbly, Jud’s kiss making her more off balance than any bump on the head could do. Her face fired with embarrassment. She’d been so into the kiss she’d been oblivious of where they were or who was watching.
Now she felt confused, not sure why Jud had kissed her and realizing he’d probably done it because it was part of the script. Or maybe he’d thought that since everyone was already talking about them, he’d give them something to talk about.
They looked at each other. Jud appeared as awkward as she was, as if he regretted the spur-of-the-moment kiss.
“I should get changed,” she said when it appeared neither of them wanted to talk about the kiss and that Brooke was nearby watching them.
“You aren’t needed for the saloon shoot and aren’t scheduled again until tomorrow,” he said. “Are you going to hang around here or go home to your ranch?” He glanced past her to where Brooke was packing up the rest of the gear, distracted for a moment.
So it was business as usual? Faith cleared her throat, stalling, wishing Brooke would leave. She wanted to talk to Jud, to understand what that kiss had been about. But she didn’t want to say anything in front of Brooke. She couldn’t help feeling that the woman resented her for taking her place.
“I don’t know yet.”
He nodded. “Just be careful,” he whispered.
So it was her safety he was worried about?
“Jud can lead your horse back,” Brooke said to her. “You look pale. Ride with me in the pickup.”
“That’s a good idea,” Jud said before Faith could argue.
Brooke brushed Faith’s hair back as if to inspect the small bandage on her temple. “Whatever did you run into?”
“I was just being clumsy,” Faith said.
Brooke met her gaze, as if to let her know she knew she was lying.
The last thing Faith wanted to do was ride back to camp with Brooke, but she didn’t want to make a fuss, especially after Jud had put in his two cents. Faith figured he just didn’t want to ride back to the set with her, just the two of them, after the kiss.
So she climbed into the passenger side of the pickup as Brooke slid behind the wheel. Out the window, she took one last look at Jud, trying to read his expression and failing.
“Nice job,” Brooke said. “You really seem to know what you’re doing.”
“Thanks,” she replied, although she suspected Brooke wasn’t referring to the stunt.
“CONSTANCE AND PAUL WERE living in a rambling old house north of town that smelled of cooked cabbage and desperation,” Mary Ellen said, resuming her story. “I drove by the spot where it used to be yesterday. It’s gone. The building razed. The earth barren.”
As she had done the night before, she’d made coffee. Only this time she’d picked up some donuts at the local grocery. Eve had taken a cup of the hot coffee and nibbled at one of the donuts, just to have something to do.
“They had aged during those months. Paul was working at the local tire shop. His body had filled out, and had it not been for the haggard look in his eyes, he would have been even more handsome than when I’d known him. Constance was—” Mary Ellen’s eyes filled with tears “—beautiful. The pregnancy, you know. It made her glow. And while she’d told our mother that her life had been a nightmare, her unhappiness didn’t show on her. Oh, she cried, of course, and begged again for my forgiveness. She said the pregnancy had been hard on her and that she needed to go home, to be around Mother. All I saw was her selfishness. Even after everything she’d done to me, she was only thinking of herself.” Mary Ellen smiled. “I was unable to see my own selfishness in wanting to keep her apart from our mother and the people we had both known at home.”
“Surely those same people had noticed that both your sister and your fiancé had disappeared,” Eve said.
“I concocted believable stories. Paul was smart, a promising student in high school. Everyone believed that he’d had a chance to go to college early. I was still wearing his ring, still pretending that we would be married the next summer. Mother and I had been making wedding plans when my sister had called her, destroying even that hope.”
Eve shook her head. “You couldn’t possibly have believed that—”
“That Paul would come back to me?” She laughed softly. “What else did I have to hope for? I told myself that he would realize his mistake. I planned to make him suffer the rest of his life when he came crawling back.”
“But what about the babies?” Eve realized even as she said it that she knew what had happened to the babies. She and Bridger would end up being adopted.
“I didn’t care what happened to their baby. I didn’t know then that she carried twins. I fear that would have made me hate her even more.”
Eve said nothing, waiting, thinking she already knew the end of the story. She couldn’t have been more wrong.
THE FIRST THING Faith noticed when she entered her trailer was the overturned chair. She stared at it. What was it doing in the middle of the room? She recalled putting it against the door before she’d gone to bed. Obviously at some point, she’d moved it.
But she wouldn’t have left it overturned in the middle of the floor unless she’d left the trailer in a hurry.
She stared at it. Had she really been sleepwalking? Maybe she’d knocked it over. But wouldn’t the noise have awakened her?
“I’ll make you some tea,” Brooke said, coming in the trailer behind her.
Faith had just assumed Brooke would leave once she dropped her off. “That isn’t necessary, really.” She wanted to be left alone so she could try to remember last night. Brooke was distracting her.
“I have my own special blend.” Brooke pulled a small bag from her pocket and stepped into the small kitchen.
That’s when Faith noticed the small trash can next to the stove. It was empty. Where was the r
ag doll she’d thrown in it last night? Someone had come in and taken it.
Her heart began to pound wildly. Someone had been in her trailer—again. Even if she had been sleepwalking, she wouldn’t have taken that doll out of the trash.
“Please, I really just want to change and rest,” she said to Brooke, who had been searching for something to make tea in. The trailers had come stocked with everything a camper might need, including pots and pans.
“Didn’t get much sleep last night, huh?”
“No. I don’t mean to be rude, but I don’t drink tea. Please.”
Brooke appeared to be about to argue, but she must have changed her mind. She pocketed the special blend and with a tight smile said, “I was just trying to help.”
Somehow Faith found that hard to believe. “Thank you. I appreciate your concern.” She closed the door behind Brooke and locked it. Then she took a step toward her bedroom, the bed coming into view, and stopped again.
The doll sat on the unmade bed, back to her pillow, dark eyes staring down the hallway at her.
It was just a doll. She knew that rationally. But still it sent her heart galloping. The doll on her bed meant someone had come into her trailer last night after she left.
Left for where?
Gingerly she peeled off the bandage and stepped into the bathroom to stare into the mirror. There was a small cut, a bruised bump. What had she stumbled into?
As she touched her sore temple, she had a flash of memory. Her pulse quickened. The memory skidded away but not before she’d had a glimpse of walking past one of the trailers—the equipment trailer.
She’d been following something into the darkness.
Following someone.
Chapter Eleven
Faith quickly showered and changed clothes, her mind racing. What had happened last night? Had she ended up confused with a knot on her head because she’d followed the person she’d seen?
There was only one way to know for sure. Dressed in her usual jeans, boots, snap-shirt and Western straw hat, she left her trailer and headed for the back of the equipment trailer.
The camp felt empty. Everyone must have gone to the saloon shoot. She concentrated on last night as she crossed the circle between the trailers. While her memory was still fuzzy, she felt as if she were retracing her footsteps.
But why would she come out into the night barefoot in only a nightgown? What had she seen? Something that had forced her not to take the time to change clothes or at least pull on her boots. It wouldn’t have been the first time she’d acted impulsively. Or the last, she thought, as she neared the back of the equipment trailer.
Still, it bothered her that if she’d seen something that had made her rush out of her trailer like that; why hadn’t she tried to get help? True, it wasn’t in her nature to ask for help. She was mule-headed and probably thought she was more capable of taking care of herself than she was.
The cut and bump on her head—case in point.
At the back of the equipment trailer, she stared down at the ground. Was her memory playing tricks on her? She’d vaguely recalled following tracks.
What tracks there might have been had been washed away by the storm that had blown in later in the night apparently. The top surface of the ground had dried from the morning sun and the breeze that now stirred her hair.
She looked out over the prairie. From a distance the land in this part of Montana appeared flat. Just a huge expanse of grass that ran to the Little Rockies.
It was deceptive, because once you started across the land, you quickly realized it was anything but flat. The terrain rose and fell with gullies and rocky outcroppings. Antelope often appeared on the horizon only to disappear as if by magic when all they did was drop over a rise.
Faith headed in the direction she believed she’d gone last night. She kept getting snatches of memory, the strongest one of being cold and wet and scared. As she walked, she recalled the darkness and something over a rise. A light.
With a start she remembered the pickup parked against the embankment. Last night came back in a rush. The clank of a tailgate being dropped. The tracks in the muddy earth. She’d seen someone dragging what had looked like a body.
Her pulse raced at the thought. It had to have been a dream. If someone was missing from camp, surely by now it would have been noticed. She stopped to glance back. She could just make out the tops of the trailers in the distance. A few more steps and they would disappear entirely.
She shuddered at the realization that no one knew where she’d gone. No one would miss her. Was it possible that she really had seen someone dragging a body out to a truck somewhere near here? If so, that person might not have been missed yet.
Wishing now that she’d told someone where she was going, she dropped over the rise. Ahead she saw what looked like a dry creek bed. She recalled the feel of those rocks on her bare feet. She had to be getting close.
Edging to the top of the next rise, she peered over, half expecting to see the pickup parked where it had been last night. There was nothing in the dry creek bed. No pickup. No body.
She stood looking down. The rain had washed away any boot or drag marks in the earth, but it hadn’t been able to wash away truck tracks.
Dropping down the small rise into the creek bed, Faith found where the pickup had been parked against the embankment. She remembered sneaking up to the truck to look into the back, but after that nothing until the memory of being wet and cold and stumbling back toward camp.
Had she seen the body in the bed of the truck? Or had she been hit on the head before she could?
She jumped as a large hand cupped her shoulder, and she swung around ready to put up a fight this time.
“Hey! Easy!” Jud said, taking a step back. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Didn’t you hear me? I was calling to you.” His look said he was worried.
“I remember what happened last night.”
“You remembered your nightmare?”
She shook her head. “I wasn’t sleepwalking. I saw someone dragging a large, heavy object into the prairie. I remember thinking I didn’t have time to dress.”
Jud looked skeptical. “A large object?”
“I followed the person as far as the edge of camp. From there I followed the drag marks in the mud. The person was dragging a body, I’m sure of it.”
“A body?”
“Look, you can see where a truck was parked against the embankment. Because the body was too heavy for the person to lift into the back of the pickup.” She pointed at the tracks in the earth, then glanced at him and saw his expression. “Don’t give me that look. I know what I saw.”
“Someone dragging a body away from the camp,” he repeated. “And you know it was a body because you saw this dead person?”
“Maybe. I remember sneaking up to the back of the pickup and either looking in the bed or starting to when I must have been hit. That explains the cut and bump on my temple and why when you found me I was confused.”
“So you didn’t see the body.”
Her impatience went straight to anger. “I’m telling you what happened last night. The tracks prove it. There was a pickup parked right there. One of the crew trucks. The dome light was on, the tailgate down. It wasn’t a dream, and I wasn’t sleepwalking.”
“Okay.” He held up both hands. “Then we should get back to camp and find out who’s missing.”
Her relief at his words was at war with the feeling that he was just humoring her. It was as if he were counting on no one being missing from the set.
Just as he seemed to be counting on her forgetting about their earlier kiss.
JUD WASN’T SURE what scared him the most. Faith’s conviction that she’d seen someone dragging a body to the dry creek bed last night or this overwhelming need of his to protect this woman.
As they walked back to the camp, neither speaking, he prayed she was wrong. Not because he wanted her to be wrong about anything. But if what she was saying were tru
e, then she’d been in terrible danger last night.
And was still in danger.
She had to have been sleepwalking, and all of this was just part of a nightmare that had seemed so real that…that there were tracks from the pickup she swore she’d seen?
“Let me see what I can find out,” he told her as they reached the edge of the camp. “Nancy will know since it’s her job to keep track of everyone.” He called her on his cell.
Nancy answered impatiently on the second ring.
“When you handed out the call sheets this morning, was anyone missing?”
“No. And you’d better not be missing for your stunt this morning.” She hung up on him.
Jud thought about what Faith had asked him. How well did he know Nancy? Did anyone know Nancy? He’d gotten few impressions about her, except for one. He thought she had a crush on director Erik Zander.
Not that Zander would have noticed. He was at least twice her age. Not usually a problem for him, but she wasn’t his type. While Nancy wasn’t bad looking, she came off as frumpy. Odd, he thought, since that impression came only from the way she wore her hair and dressed. Her face, when not hidden behind her mousy brown hair, was quite pretty, and her figure, if not curvaceous, was slim. She would have definitely been Zander’s type, if she’d dressed more provocatively. Odd that she hadn’t figured that out.
“YOU SAID you didn’t get to Whitehorse in time to do what you’d planned,” Eve reminded Mary Ellen. The wind had kicked up outside the motel room. Another thunderstorm was on the way. The motel room felt too small already.
The older woman nodded. “I had just gotten to their little dreary house in the country when Constance went into labor. She pleaded with me to take her to the hospital. Paul had the car at work. Constance wasn’t due for weeks.”
“You didn’t take her to the hospital,” Eve said, knowing that was the only way she and her brother could have come into the world and been adopted illegally through the Whitehorse Sewing Circle.
