There was nothing left to do but load him in the trailer and head out on the road to Billings, where the competition was being held. But Shadoe delayed, dawdling by rechecking to make sure she’d loaded water buckets, hay, feed, lariat, her competition saddle. All things she’d checked once before. The truth was, ever since the night of the intruder, she was damned uncomfortable leaving the Double S Ranch. Four days had passed and there had been no more trouble at the ranch-and no trace of the trespasser. His tracks had vanished in the grass behind the barn.
Jill and her hired hand, Curly, had assured her they would check on the horses four times a day. At that thought Shadoe couldn’t help but smile. She had good friends and neighbors. Ranchers knew the importance of sticking together. Normally solemn, Shadoe’s entire face lit up with her smile. The corners of her eyes crinkled, emphasizing her high cheekbones. Her mother had often told her not to smile “so hard or you’ll wrinkle before your time.” But Shadoe’s olive skin seemed to drink the sun that Connie Deerman had so avidly avoided. And the truth was, it didn’t matter so much now if she smiled hard, because she didn’t smile all that often.
“Okay, Luster. We’ve got to load up if we’re going. And we have to go if I’m ever going to sell Scrapiron’s babies. Remember, the reputation of this place is resting on you. You’re the son of Scrapiron, and it’s up to you to show everyone what kind of performance horse he produces.”
Leading the horse around to the trailer, she clucked to him and he walked in. Shadoe lifted the ramp, secured it in place, and climbed in the truck. She headed south down the narrow road that would connect with the highway to Billings. Even as she drove away, she watched her home disappearing in the side view mirror of her truck. Everything would be fine. She had to believe that.
THE FIRST FEW HOURS in Billings were frantic with settling Luster into his stall, paying her entry fees, making sure her show clothes were neat and ready, polishing a few extra silver sparkles on her saddle and chatting with the other riders she’d been competing against for the past eight months. There was an easy camaraderie among the riders who came from all over the west, and she enjoyed the bustle and nervous energy of the show.
Luster was a standout among the horses. His gleaming gray coat glistened beneath her brush, and she was glad to see his easy adaptation to the new stall and excitement. With each passing hour, her own show jitters heightened, but this was one type of anxiety she knew how to put to her advantage. The jitters gave her that little bit of an edge that made her do her best. By five o’clock, she had saddled and was ready. Hanging at the gate she watched ten other riders as their horses maneuvered among the cattle, herding and cutting out the designated cow for the exercise. She was both delighted and anxious that the other riders and horses had performed so well. Luster would have to be on his very best to win the competition, but she knew he could do it.
The crowd was enormous, the perfect spring weather drawing spectators from all over the area for the big show. Along with the cutting event there were a multitude of crowd-pleasing activities. The cutting circuit was different from that of professional rodeo life, but there were points in common-and people. Shadoe had been on the rodeo circuit for a while, but she hadn’t been able to tolerate some of the treatment of the animals. Still, it was an experience that had changed her life, and given her the desire to return to the Double S.
Looking around she spotted several riders she knew and gave them a wave. Her gaze stopped short on a cluster of men who stood at ringside. A tall, lean man with blond hair and a way of standing, that made her heart hesitate before the next beat, was staring at her. Across the crowded ring she met Hank Emrich’s gaze and felt as if they’d spoken. There was the jolt of unexpected recognition, then the pain and hurt, the challenge, and finally the anger. Once upon a time, such communication with him would have given pleasure rather than pain.
Shaken by the power of his gaze, and the hurt it could generate, she turned back to Luster’s stall. Her hands were trembling as she checked her appearance one last time, mounted and got ready for the anxious moments before she entered the ring. She took her place and waited for her number to be called, studiously avoiding looking at the place where she’d seen Hank.
Hank rested his hand on the showring fence before the next rider entered. He needed the support of the fence to steady himself. The cattle ran in the enclosure, kicking up a small cloud of dust that blocked the opposite side of the ring, and when it cleared, Shadoe was gone. He searched the crowd for her, wanting another glimpse of her in her tight black jeans and black hat with the silver band. As disturbing as she was, he couldn’t get enough of looking at her. Why had he ever let Cal talk him into taking a day off and attending the competition? He’d never expected to see her here. When he’d known her she hadn’t been a competitor.
“Hey, Hank. Want a beer?” Cal asked, nudging him to get his attention.
“Sure”
“I’ll be back.” Cal and the three other agents moved through the crowd toward the concession, leaving Hank at ringside where he watched a flashy chestnut swirl and cut through the herd of cattle, singling out a darting steer.
Horse and rider worked well together, and Hank joined the whistles and applause of the audience when the cowboy had cornered his quarry. The announcer called out the time and the score, and the crowd applauded again.
“Our next contestant is Shadoe Deerman on her gelding Luster,” the announcer called out. “Number 159, you’re in the ring.”
Shadoe entered the ring at a dead run, her chin low in the horse’s mane as the big gray aimed straight into the herd of cattle and began to cut and wheel with a grace and finesse that made the audience gasp. Riding close and low, she was a blur of black clothes and gleaming black hair.
The event was over in what seemed like a few seconds, and with the steer cornered, the audience rose to its feet with thunderous applause. Hank was too engrossed in watching Shadoe to hear the wild whistles and clapping. Without even thinking what he was doing, he abandoned his position by the rail and began to walk around to the stable area. He’d been around competitions all his life, but he’d never seen a horse and rider work with such unity of spirit. In the years that had separated them, Shadoe had become a professional rider. What Billy Casper had told him about Shadoe and her horses hadn’t sunk in-until now. If the big bay stallion he’d chased across half of Lakota County could consistently produce horses like Luster, Shadoe was going to have herself a thriving business in a few years. She’d always been horse crazy, but he’d never realized how much talent she had. He felt pride, and pleasure, in her accomplishment, and he meant to tell her so.
“Hank! Hank!” Cal held up his friend’s beer, but Hank gave him a wave that signaled he’d meet him later and lost himself in the milling throngs of people coming and going from the barns. There was something else eating at him, too. He’d spent the last four days going over his two meetings with Shadoe. The conclusion he’d come to was that he owed her an apology. And he meant to give it to her. Now. Whether she wanted to hear it or not. Shadoe also had to understand something.
He knew what had happened better than twenty years ago. He knew because he was there. The Deerman family had been camping in the Canadian wilderness when Joey Deerman had stumbled onto a den of young wolf pups. The eight-year-old had been beside himself with delight at the playful pups, until the mother wolf had come home. Fearing for her young, she’d attacked the boy, killing him. In a red rage, Jimmy Deerman had gone out to track down the wolf and had taken a fall in a snow-covered ravine. Tragic.
But not the fault of the wolves.
That’s what Hank wanted to tell Shadoe, to force her to admit. Shadoe knew as well as he that the mother wolf was acting on instinct to protect her young. If Shadoe would only accept what had happened as a freak accident, maybe it would give her some peace of mind about the wolves that were being released. He and Shadoe could never put the past behind them, but they could quit treating each other as an
tagonists.
He wove through the throngs of people and horses, intent on his mission, oblivious to the laughter and calls, the smells of popcorn and beer.
Nothing could undo the suffering, or make right what had gone terribly, terribly wrong in Shadoe’s young life. Nothing could repair the losses in his own life. But if Shadoe was going to make her way in Montana, then she’d best learn that the forces of nature—bigger and grander in Montana than anywhere else—had to be reckoned with. Wolves were going to be a small part of that natural setting now.
That grim thought was in his mind when he rounded a corner in the show barn and slammed smack into a firm black figure with a bucket of water.
Cold water sloshed all over Shadoe, shocking her far more than injuring her. She looked up into startled brown eyes and for an instant, twenty years vanished. Hank’s expression was unguarded, and in it she read surprise, concern, embarrassment, and finally, a touch of humor. He looked so much like the seventeen-year-old Hank that Shadoe felt as if a giant hand squeezed her heart.
Anger was the defense she chose against the feelings he aroused in her. “What are you doing here?” she demanded.
The tone of her voice was like a slap, and Hank was brought up sharp. Still, his eyes couldn’t avoid looking at the black silk Western shirt, now wet and clinging to her full breasts. The material was molded to her skin, leaving little to the imagination.
Shadoe felt his gaze and was shocked by her body’s reaction to it. She lifted a hand instinctively to cover her breasts
The action was not lost on Hank, and he felt a sudden burning embarrassment at his behavior.
“I owe you an apology,” he said, quickly looking away from her.
Shadoe didn’t speak. Her heart was pounding, and she was off balance by her own reaction. Slowly she lowered her hand and set the half-empty water bucket down. “I’ll dry,” she said.
“Shadoe…” Hank hesitated. “I’m sorry about the water, but that’s not what I’m apologizing about. Watching you ride, I saw something I hadn’t seen before. Or maybe I should say I saw something I wasn’t willing to look at. Whatever happened out at the Double S a few nights ago, I know you weren’t involved in letting your stud out. I was wrong to accuse you.”
She swallowed. Her anger, her only weapon against the wave of regret that threatened to knock her off her feet, was powerless against an apology. “I’m sorry, too, Hank. Sorry for the way we had to meet again.”
Picking up the bucket, he gave it a rueful smile. “Would I be too far out of line if I said that you’ve grown up to be a beautiful woman?”
It was sadness that tempered Shadoe’s smile. “Not out of line. Thanks.” She felt the wave grow higher, just hanging back in the distance and waiting for her to be alone so that it would sweep over her, drowning her in what-mighthave-beens. If her life hadn’t changed under her, she might have grown up with Hank. They wouldn’t be standing here, awkward in a way they never had been before.
“I know we’re not on the same side with the wolf thing, but maybe we could talk.” Hank turned the bucket slowly in his hands. “I admire what you’ve done with that horse. I’ve never seen a horse and rider work like that.” He tried for a smile and finally found one. “What I’m trying to say is that I admire what you’re doing.” He looked into her eyes and for a moment neither of them spoke. “I admire your dream, Shadoe. We found out a long time ago we didn’t have the same dream anymore, but maybe we’re both grown-up enough now that we can learn to respect each other’s dream.”
Shadoe wanted to run as hard and fast as she could in the opposite direction. For twenty years she’d tried to outdistance the past. Now it was standing in front of her, asking her to make friends with it. But wasn’t that why she’d come back to Montana?
“Maybe we can try, Hank.” Her doubts were in her voice. “We can’t ever go back, but maybe we can go forward. As friends. But I won’t ever accept the need for those wolves.”
It was more than he’d hoped for. He handed her the bucket “That may be true. Then again, I might be able to change your mind.” He smiled, and the secrets of a clear Montana stream seemed captured in the amber of his eyes.
“Shadoe!” She turned with surprise to see a lean, dusty cowboy coming up to her with a long stride. “Great ride! You were superb! Like some Indian princess riding the wind.”
Shadoe smiled a big welcome to the cowboy and then rushed into his arms, exclaiming only a little as he squeezed her tightly bound ribs. “John Carpenter! Where’ve you been? I got your letter and I was expecting you last month!”
“Oh, riding the broncs.” He eased back from her and rubbed his elbow. “Spent a few days in the hospital, which kind of slowed me down.”
Shadoe stepped back. “Are you hurt?” She ran her hands down his arms, stopping at his left elbow. “Still bandaged.”
“It’ll heal.” The cowboy looked up into the heated brown gaze of the man who stood at Luster’s stall door. “I didn’t mean to interrupt anything.” Even before he finished speaking his gaze drifted over to the wet shirt clinging to Shadoe’s breasts. He didn’t have to say a word to show his approval.
“John Carpenter, this is Hank Emrich, an old.we grew up together.” Shadoe’s introductions were as awkward as she felt.
“Another broken heart in the Shadoe Deerman graveyard?” John extended his hand. “Shadoe joined up with me to ride the rodeo circuit, and when she learned all my secrets she left me flat.” John’s grin was as smooth as Kentucky bourbon. “Thought she could sneak away, but I’ve come to reclaim my Indian love.”
Shadoe felt the flush heat her cheeks. “Don’t be such a fool, John.” She avoided looking at Hank.
“Yeah, Shadoe took it into her head to leave the rodeo and come back home to make her fortune. If anyone can do it, she can. I’ve never met a more determined woman in my life. All I can say is, don’t get in her way.” He grinned at both of them. “Hell, she broke my heart and both of my legs before she left me eating her dust.”
“John!” Shadoe shook her head. “You broke your legs after I moved up here. And I didn’t…” She hesitated at the dark look in Hank’s eyes. Had she imagined that she’d shared a moment of warmth with him only seconds before?
The look he was giving her was an indictment. She’d be damned before she tried to explain John’s comments. Besides, she didn’t owe Hank any explanation. None at all.
“If you’ve finished with the lady, I’d like to take her to dinner,” John said to Hank. “We’ve got a lot of territory to cover, and Shadoe’s one unbroken filly I’m ready to try to saddle. Yeah, and I stopped by your place. Old Curly told me where you were and he said for you to call him as soon as you could.” At the look in her eyes, he held up a hand. “No, no, it wasn’t anything to do with your horses. They’re all fine. It was something else. He acted like it was a government secret.” John chuckled. “You know how old Curly likes to go for the dramatic.”
Shadoe knew, but she could see that Hank didn’t. All warmth was gone from him. Whatever emotions were left were all negative.
“I’ve said everything I came to say, and more.” Hank gave the cowboy a long look, then turned away. “Later, Shadoe,” he said as he walked back to the arena.
He didn’t realize his hands were clenched into fists until he was ten minutes into the thick crowds. How was it possible that even after all that had transpired between him and Shadoe Deerman, the sight of her in the cowboy’s arms had given him a jolt of pure jealousy?
THE LONG RIDEfrom Billings back to Stag’s Horn had been made with most of the agents sleeping. Hank had remained awake, sitting beside a window, staring into the night. Once they’d reached the camp, the other agents had wearily climbed out of the vehicle and stumbled to their beds. Hank had taken a seat on a tree stump where he could stare out through a break in the trees at the night sky. A million stars twinkled down at him, and that fact only made him feel sadder.
“What’s eating at you?” Cal c
ame up to stand at his friend’s shoulder. “You act like a mule with a lip full of briars. You must have heard Harry Code’s been in Athens a few days, ‘checking out the mood of the locals.’ No wonder they’re so hostile.”
“Damn.” Hank hadn’t heard, and it did nothing to improve his mood. “I’ve got a lot on my mind already. I don’t need Code here to mess things up more. We’ve got to let the wolves loose this week.”
“Afraid that gray devil will come back to get you?” Cal laughed. “He does keep his eye on you, no matter how much you deny it.”
“He’ll be okay.” Hank was determined to slip out of his bad mood. “Look, there’s Harry’s car. He’s finally come up to the camp. No whirlpools, no room service. There must be a camera crew nearby, though, or he wouldn’t be here.”
Cal shook his head. “It’s like him to show up just before the wolves are freed. If there’s any press coverage, he wants to be in front of the cameras.”
Cal’s comments made Hank smile. “Well, someone has to take all the credit.”
“And Harry Code wants it to be himself.” Cal put his hand on his friend’s arm. “Be careful around Harry. He knows you’re smarter than he is, and he doesn’t like to have his nose rubbed in it, Hank. You’ve got a way of getting under his skin.”
“I do my job.”
“Better than anyone else. But you’re a pain in Harry’s butt. You make his life hard because you don’t kiss up to him the way he wants you to.” Cal rubbed his stubbled chin with his hand. “You’ve got a problem with authority figures, you know.”
“I don’t have a problem accepting the authority of someone who actually knows what they’re doing.”
“Competent or not, Harry’s the boss. Try to live with that, Hank. For your own sake.”
Along with everything else, Hank didn’t need Harry Code at Stag’s Horn screwing everything up. He knew Cal’s words were spoken in friendship—and concern. One more charge of insubordination, and Hank could be fired. “I think I’ll take a walk around the perimeter before I turn in.”
Midnight Prey Page 5
