Shadoe stood slightly out of the conversation, her dark eyes on Hank. Still reeling from Hank’s confession, she wasn’t able to take in Cal’s urgent presence. She was still arguing with herself, remembering Hank’s tenderness, his lovemaking that seemed designed to give her all the pleasure possible. He wasn’t the kind of man who took women, who used them, who felt they deserved such treatment. Surely she hadn’t heard him right. He’d confessed to using Kathy Lemon as if it were nothing.
“Hank, you’ve got to turn yourself in,” Cal said urgently. “Code is getting ready to blame everything that’s gone wrong on you. He’s having a field day.”
“Let him.” Hank’s voice was almost a growl.
“You have to come back and explain things.” Cal was almost begging. “The entire project is in jeopardy.”
Hank shook his head. “If I go back, he’ll just send me to Washington where I’ll be ‘detained,’ as in chained to a desk in some Washington office. That amounts to being arrested without the benefit of a formal charge, as you well know. At least by staying here, I can guard the wolves.” “Guard the wolves!” Cal was incredulous. “If you go within half a mile of that camp they’ll have you in leg irons. You’re about to be a renegade agent, Hank. Do you understand what that means?”
Hank looked at Cal. “Exactly. It means that I get to use whatever force is necessary to protect those wolves.” He nodded slowly. “In fact, you can take that message to Code for me. You tell him that I’m prepared to do whatever is necessary to safeguard this project. Tell him I’ve done it before, and I’ll do it this time. He’ll understand what I mean.”
“Hank!” Billy’s voice held censure. “That’s a threat.”
Hank looked at his old friend. “You’re right. Billy. That’s exactly what it is. And this time I mean it.”
Chapter Fourteen
Shadoe, Billy and Hank watched as Cal’s taillights disappeared down the drive. Cal had argued with Hank for another ten minutes, then accepted defeat. Hank would not listen to reason from him, or Billy. Shadoe had no advice to offer. She watched Hank’s chiseled jaw in the falling dusk. She could remember the planes of his chest, the swell of muscle in his back and legs. Tears had collected in her eyes, but she would not allow them release. She would not cry for Hank, or for her own foolish heart. At last she’d gotten exactly what she deserved from Hank.
“Shadoe, would you loan Hank a horse?” Billy’s voice sounded as if he’d asked the question once before.
“I’ve got to go after the wolf.” Hank was speaking to her in a tone that was filled with intimacy, with caring.
She ignored the stab of pain in her heart that his voice caused. “I’m not fond of the idea of one of my horses being used as wolf bait.”
There was stunned silence. Billy spoke first. “Shadoe?”
“It’s okay.” Hank moved toward her, as if he intended to touch her.
Shadoe backed away from him.
“What is it?” He looked at her, then at Billy. “What happened that I don’t know about?”
Billy was looking at Shadoe as if she might be a caged cat.
“What’s going on, Shadoe? I swear, you’re generating enough electricity that if you held a lightbulb, it would glow.”
“Take Winston. The buckskin next to Chester in the barn. Don’t let anything happen to him, Hank. It’s in my best interest if that wolf is caught. Once you’ve got him, bring Winston back. Then I never want to see you again.” She turned then and ran, unable to hold back the tears any longer. She listened, but there wasn’t the sound of footsteps coming after her.
BLIND ANGER pushed Hank up the mountainside to a campsite five miles from the Double S. He was still a long way from where he wanted to be, but he simply was too weary to go on. Winston was a good horse. Not the brightest animal he’d ever ridden, but calm and steady, perfect for the job he had before him. Shadoe had chosen well, if not graciously. Even at the thought of her he felt another flare of fury.
He’d thought, at last, that they’d reached some understanding. Tentative, yes. More physical than intellectual, for the moment, but there had been so much emotion there. With time, and talk, he’d felt certain they could find their way back to each other.
Except Shadoe didn’t want that at all. As soon as the cowboy had appeared, she’d grown distant. And finally cold and hard. She had no desire to commit-at least not to him. Not on any level. He’d been a damn fool to ride along with his hopes high and his heart singing. This time she hadn’t run away to hurt him. No, she was through running all right. But that didn’t mean she’d changed. At least not where he was concerned.
He kicked another small branch into the fire and poured a cup of bitter camp coffee. Billy had seen to some supplies while he was saddling Winston. He had come out of the house as grim-faced and angry as Hank felt himself. All he’d said was that Shadoe had refused to talk with him at all, as if he, too, had been tarred with the same brush as Hank.
A high wind pushed a cloud over the moon, and for a moment the cloud’s edges were lined in silver. Jimmy Deerman had said that a moon-shot cloud was a sign of troubled gods, a coming wind of change. Hank couldn’t agree more. He didn’t need an omen from the sky to tell him things were bad and probably going to get worse. Along with his troubles with Shadoe, he’d failed to protect the wolves.
He sat forward, pricked by his own inability to take care of creatures he felt responsible to protect. Cal had assured him that the remaining wolves were in good physical shape. The delay in the release was having a negative impact, though. The time in the pens was beginning to wear on them, turning them into pacing, neurotic animals. They needed to be set free.
Without Thor, though, did the pack stand a chance of survival? What was best for the wolves? Hank looked beyond the campfire into the night.
Two golden eyes stared back at him.
At first he didn’t believe it. Very slowly he reached for the rifle that Shadoe had provided, albeit grudgingly. The wolf stepped closer to the fire, staring at him without blinking. Thor was totally unafraid of the flames-just as he was unafraid of Hank.
Hank lifted the rifle, sighting down the barrel directly into the wolf’s hypnotic gaze. At this distance, he could get a clean head shot. It was the right thing to do. To leave Thor out to fend for himself, without the pack, was a cruelty worse than a bullet. He could already see that the mus-
cled body was leaner, almost drawn-looking. If he didn’t kill him now, the wolf would go after someone’s stock. Thor needed the other wolves to successfully hunt the wild game that would be his natural prey. Alone, though, he would have to take the easier livestock. The ranchers might not be kind enough to hand out a clean kill, and Thor was already too far down from the safety of the woodlands, too close to the civilization that hated and feared him on sight.
Hank pressed his finger to the trigger, sighting carefully. Sometimes a person just had to do the hard thing to make it right.
“I’m sorry, Thor,” he whispered as he took a breath.
The wolf never flinched. He stared into the gun as if he could defy it, or as if he did not accept the power that it had to destroy him.
Hank took another breath, then slowly lowered the gun. He could not kill the wolf. Not with a hunting rifle. Not with Thor staring at him. There was dishonor in such an action. The odds were too much in his favor.
For a moment longer, the wolf watched him. Then he turned away from the fire and trotted into the darkness of the night.
Hank laid back against the saddle he was using for a pillow. He felt as if he’d been brushed by magic, some special message that had been given him, if he were acute enough to decipher it. First the cloud, then the wolf. It occurred to him that the wolf was following him, again.
“Yes!” He sat forward at a sudden thought. If Thor was willing to follow, he could lead the wolf back to the rest of the pack. With Thor there to take charge of them, he could release the others. Once free, they would be on their own, to
survive or not. But at least it would be a fighting chance. The opportunity that he’d meant to give them long ago when the project was initiated.
It was the only way the release would work at all. Once Harry Code and the ranchers were confronted with a fait accompli, there would be no stopping it. Whatever Harry’s secondary motives toward the wolves might be, his plan would be foiled. Once the wolves were gone, there would be nothing to do but wait and see if they survived on their own.
Hank felt a surge of energy. At last he knew what he should do. Once the wolves had a fighting chance, then he’d turn himself in to Harry and see what he could salvage out of his career. Maybe there would be nothing left. And maybe he didn’t care. The idea of a sailboat and a long, solitary cruise seemed suddenly very appealing. Perhaps there was an island out there, sand and blue ocean, where he could forget about mountains and wolves and Shadoe.
He put his head against the saddle that smelled of soap and horse, and closed his eyes. Sleep came instantly.
He awoke with the first light of dawn, stiff, sore and still angry at Shadoe. She was the first thing he thought of, and images from the night they’d shared made him scowl over his morning coffee. In one night she’d managed to get under his skin, and it wasn’t going to be easy to get nd of her. He remembered, with bitterness, her father’s story of a powerful warrior who fell in love with a spirit woman. Though the other members of the tribe warned him against her, he’d been unable to resist. He had gone down from the high mountains to meet her in the grassy plains where the buffalo grazed. They had held each other in the moonlight, unable to let go until dawn approached and she fled before the warm sun could turn her into mist. The warrior was left alone, with only memories of her. She was under his skin like salt, burning and itching, until he could endure her absence no longer and threw himself off a cliff.
Hank stood up and kicked dirt on the small campfire, making sure it was dead. Well, he’d given enough of his skin, and his life, to Shadoe Deerman. He was moving forward, and never again would she have a chance to wreak havoc in his life.
He saddled the buckskin and headed north, taking it slow and easy on the rough terrain. When the ground was level, he let the gelding canter, and in two hours he was in the dense woods of the national forest.
There was no way to be certain, but Hank thought he’d caught a glimpse of silver trailing him through the trees. He didn’t trust his vision, but he did trust his instincts. Thor was with him, following. The plan was going to work. For the first time in hours, he felt as if his life had direction.
He camped another night, this time in the higher elevation of the mountains and without benefit of a campfire. If what Cal had said was true, there would be search parties out looking for him. A fire was too dangerous, and he was too close to his goal to risk detection. The wolf was still with him, he felt sure, though Thor had not paid him another visit. There were other creatures in the woods, though. Hank could hear them, and they drew closer than they would have if he’d had a fire. Too alert to sleep, he rested against the saddle and listened to the night sounds.
Nearby, Winston moved lazily through the clump of rough grass where Hank had hobbled him. At times the horse would lift his head and listen, as good a watchdog as Hank could ever find. If anything really dangerous came up, Winston would let him know. He closed his eyes and was tormented on the edge of sleep by a dream of Shadoe. In the dream she was coming toward him, all grace and sinew and hunger. Only fifteen steps away, she turned into a wolf. A small silver-and-black female. She came to him, eyes dark and blazing, mouth open. He watched in awe as she licked his hand.
Still aroused by the dream, he was startled awake by the sound of Winston shifting uneasily. In the distance there was the cry of a coyote, answered by another a good two miles away. In the cold, clear night, sound traveled easily, amplified by the rock walls of the mountains.
“Easy, fella,” he said to the horse. The coyotes wouldn’t normally approach a man. Just to be on the safe side he pulled his rifle from his pack and laid it beside him before he fell back into a troubled sleep.
SHADOE FLIPPED ON the television and watched the scenic views of Montana sweep across the screen, followed by sirens and a fast-paced clip of music. WSTU News At Ten flashed across the screen, and the camera focused in on Rob Richards, the middle-aged anchor who had been covering the news for the past twenty years.
When the camera pulled back, Shadoe got her first look at Kathy Lemon. She was coanchoring the news.
“Well, she’s pretty,” Jill said with a roll of her eyes as she put her glass of cola on the coffee table and picked up a handful of chips. “Really pretty.”
Shadoe frowned. It was true, but Jill didn’t have to keep pointing it out. The newscaster was blond, slender with blue eyes that seemed to sparkle. Her voice was pleasantly modulated with a trained, homogenized accent-and familiar. She was the woman who’d called Shadoe about Hank.
“At least Hank has good taste in women. She’s.”
At Shadoe’s injured look, Jill hushed. “I’m sorry.” She shrugged. “Who would have thought you’d carry a torch for the guy for twenty years, especially since you walked out and left him like you did.”
Shadoe got up from the sofa and started out of the room.
“Hey, I’m sorry,” Jill called after her. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. It’s just that Hank is bad news for us ranchers, and I hate to see how he can get to you. I thought when you came back to Athens that you’d finally put the past behind you.”
Shadoe sat back down on the sofa. She stared at the television where Kathy Lemon was talking about storm damage in the central part of the state. “I thought I’d put the past behind me when I left Athens. I guess there’s no escape from it.” She sounded tired, and she was. She’d spent a sleepless night thinking of Hank. She’d tossed and turned in bed to the point that Totem, fed up with her restlessness, had actually bitten her.
And she’d gotten up the next morning and spent the entire day doing chores and thinking about Hank. How could she have been so wrong about him? Was it because she wanted to believe—wanted to find something of the past she still missed with a fierce ache and had hoped that he would be the way to find it?
“I know you said you spent the night in the cabin with Hank. Did anything happen?” Jill’s gaze was sharp. There was a suspicious look in her eye. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”
“Not in the way you’re thinking.” Shadoe sighed.
“What did he do?” Jill leaned forward and put her hand on her friend’s knee. “Shadoe, he can be brought to justice if he did anything to you. I think it’s fortuitous that Kathy Lemon is in this state.”
“Fortuitous? I think it’s beyond coincidental.” Shadoe waved her hands. “How did she end up in Montana shortly after calling me out of the blue about Hank?” What had begun as a small doubt began to grow into serious suspicion. “This is a little more than coincidental. She told me she was out of the news business. How did she land a job as a coanchor, and at WSTU, no less?”
As she talked she grew more excited. This wasn’t right. Things didn’t happen this way—except in movies. Bad movies, where coincidence was the glue of the plot. She looked at Jill and her thoughts stopped dead. Her friend was staring at her hands, twiddling her fingers together in one direction and then the next. “Jill?” she asked.
“It would be a terrible coincidence, if I weren’t to blame for it.”
Jill hadn’t looked up, and Shadoe leaned back against the sofa. “I think you’re going to have to explain that one.
“I told her about the opening at WSTU. When she called, she said she was a broadcaster but hadn’t worked in the field due to Hank. We talked a minute or two. She said Hank had gotten her fired and blacklisted, and I’d heard that Amy Evans was looking for a newscaster. A female. So, I just.told her about the job opening.” She glanced up at Shadoe and at the expression of disbelief and anger, she looked back down. “I regret doing it. How
was I to know they’d hire her? She just sounded so miserable in her job, and it was because of Hank.” She picked up her cola from the table. “I’m sorry, Shadoe. I had no idea the woman would actually get the job, and I had no way of knowing how it would upset you.”
Shadoe swallowed back her anger, and her bitter disappointment that the flare of hope that had risen was now defeated. Jill was the type of person who went out of her way to help others, even strangers. It was like her, impulsive, helpful, to mention a job to Kathy Lemon. It was also out of her hands who WSTU hired.
“Forget it, Jill.” She managed to make it sound sincere. “The station wouldn’t have hired her if she wasn’t qualified.”
Jill finally looked up. “I am sorry. I should learn not to meddle. If I could undo it, I would.”
Shadoe gave a rueful smile and shook her head. “She’s in Billings. Not here. If it bothers me, I can watch another station.”
Jill’s smile returned. “That’s the spirit. So tell me, what went on up at that cabin? I’m not leaving here until I know the nitty-gritty.”
Shadoe tried to blink back the sudden rush of tears, but it was too late. She stared into her cocoa until Jill removed the cup from her hands and put it on the coffee table.
“Spill it,” she said, trying for a lighthearted note. “It couldn’t be all that bad.”
Shadoe nodded. “It’s worse,” she managed to say. She looked at her friend. “I did the stupidest thing.”
“Don’t tell me you slept with him?” Jill was braced for bad news.
“Worse than that.” Shadoe tried to laugh. “I fell in love with him.” She swallowed. “Or I should say I fell back in love with him. I suppose I never really stopped. And he’s.he admitted to doing the things Kathy Lemon said he did.”
Jill’s face went from surprised to shocked. “He did?”
“He told Billy. I overheard them in the barn.” Shadoe fought for control.
“So, he admitted it.” Jill got up and got a box of tissue from the bathroom. She handed them to Shadoe, who pulled two and dried her eyes.
Midnight Prey Page 18
