Shadoe swallowed. “A couple of the ranchers have talked about putting their places up for sale, but there’s nothing definite yet. They’re afraid if the wolves come, they won’t be able to get anything for the land.” “That may make another interesting angle,” Kathy said.
“I’m not sure about that. A story could start a land panic.” Shadoe turned worried eyes on Jill.
“But it is news, Ms. Deerman. We don’t select only the news that serves our purpose. At WSTU we report everything.”
Something in the woman’s tone got to Shadoe. “Don’t you think it would be more ethical to report land prices dropping due to the wolves after the animals are released? If the Coalition has any power, the wolves will be taken back to Canada and a lot of good people will keep the homes and ranches some of them have worked for generations. This isn’t a news story, Ms. Lemon, this is a possible tragedy.” Shadoe felt Jill’s hand on her shoulder and realized she sounded extremely angry.
“As I said,” Kathy intoned dryly, “we don’t make the news, we simply report it. Now, if you’ll give me those directions.”
Shadoe handed the phone to Jill. “If you really want her here, you give her directions. I should have listened to my instincts on this.” She walked out of the room and into the kitchen. Why had she listened to Jill? Why had she let her life get so completely out of her control!
The kitchen door burst open and Jill stood there. “What in the world, Shadoe?”
“She wants to do a story on the ranchers selling out. I’m afraid it will drive the land prices down even more, panic more ranchers into selling.” Shadoe sighed. “The irony is that the folks who’ll buy the ranches will subdivide them. Pretty soon they’ll be laying curbs and drainage for subdivisions and the wolves will be driven back to Canada the hard way.” She sat down at the kitchen table and put her head in her hands. “If my head didn’t ache so bad I think I’d cry. Here we are, torn between wolves and subdivisions.”
Jill pulled out a chair and sat opposite her. “That’s why we have to fight this harder. We can’t let those wolves go free here, Shadoe. I know being with Hank made it harder for you, but you’re the leader. Our spokesperson. We need you behind us a hundred percent.”
Shadoe lowered her hands. “I don’t know if I can, Jill.”
“You have to.”
“I’ve been thinking that coming back was the biggest in a long line of mistakes. I could go back to Texas and raise cutting horses. There’s plenty of market there, and the winters aren’t nearly so severe.”
“Texas isn’t Montana.” Jill gave a lopsided grin. “This is your home, Shadoe. Your place. You’ve got to fight for it. For all of us.”
Shadoe groaned. “What else could go wrong?”
There was a loud knock at the front door that startled both women. They jumped and screamed together, finally forcing Shadoe to laugh. “Look at us. We’ve turned into a couple of total ninnies. Someone knocks at the front door and we jump out of our skins.” She got up and went to the door with Jill trailing at her heels.
The pounding came again, this time louder and harder. “Just a minute,” Shadoe called as she pulled open the heavy ponderosa pine door. To her surprise, a wet Sheriff Billy stood on her steps with Doc Adams behind him.
“Come in,” Shadoe motioned them in. “Jill, put on some coffee, and pour a couple of brandies.”
“Thanks,” Billy said, shrugging out of his wet coat. Doc did the same, giving Shadoe a hug as he stepped into the house. “Ah, those ribs are fine. You would have squawked like a chicken if they hadn’t healed properly.”
“Thanks for the hug, and the diagnosis,” Shadoe said, kissing the vet on the cheek. Something about the expression on the two men’s faces troubled her. It was Hank, she knew it. Her heart beat faster. He’d been in her thoughts since he’d ridden off on Winston. No matter how she’d fought against it, she couldn’t stop thinking about him, wondering what he was doing. Had he managed to capture the big wolf yet?
Jill brought the brandy and handed it to the soaked men while Shadoe stoked up the fire in the fireplace and waited.
“Sorry to barge in, Shadoe.” Billy cleared his throat. He looked at his watch. “It’s going on midnight.”
“I don’t think you came out in a storm to give me the time.” Shadoe tried to sound lighthearted. Even as she spoke she felt her heart thudding against her ribs. It was really bad for Billy to beat around the bush in such a fashion.
“It’s Hank, isn’t it?” Shadoe asked the question gently.
Billy nodded.
“It’s bad, Little Missy,” Doc said. “Really bad. That boy’s in some deep trouble now.”
“What is it?” Jill asked.
Billy shook his head. “One of the biologists up at Stag’s Horn was shot tonight.”
“That’s terrible,” Shadoe said, feeling the dread creep over her. She didn’t have time to analyze why, she only knew the worst was yet to come.
“They found Hank’s rifle beside him.” Billy took over the story. “They think Hank was up there tampering with the wolves when Larson went out to check. They think Hank killed him, Shadoe.”
For one stunned moment, no one in the room moved. “That’s insane,” Jill finally said, sitting down on the sofa as if her legs wouldn’t support her any longer. “Hank may be a rat where women are concerned, but he isn’t a cold-blooded killer.”
“Where is he?” Shadoe asked. “Is he in jail?”
Billy went to her and put his arm around her, leading her to a chair. “He’s up on the mountain somewhere, Shadoe. No one saw him. But it was his rifle. And they found something else.”
“What?” Shadoe looked up at Billy.
“An arrowhead.”
“An arrowhead.” Shadoe repeated the words stupidly. “That’s the evidence against him?”
“It’s circumstantial, but several of the team members remarked on Hank’s obsession with arrowheads. It seems he kept a collection from when he was a young boy out here.”
“But the arrowhead could have been there all along. They’re all over these parts.”
Billy put his hands on her shoulders. “You make a good defense counsel, but you’re preaching to the choir. I don’t think Hank did this. The problem with the arrowhead is that a lot of the men there made the comment that Hank’s last two vacations were back over here to Montana to ‘hunt arrowheads.’ That’s what he told his friends. That’s why they teased him about his obsession.” At Shadoe’s angry expression, Billy squeezed her shoulders harder. “It is circumstantial evidence, Shadoe. We’ll try to prove him innocent.”
Shadoe stood up. “Prove him innocent! I thought a man was innocent until proven guilty.”
Billy sighed wearily. “I only wish it worked that way. Especially this time.”
SHADOE CLOSED the door on Jill and leaned against it. It was past midnight. and every nerve in her body was tingling. She was tired but too keyed up to consider sleep. Hank, accused of murder. She still didn’t believe it.
It was true that she’d had her doubts about him. But not murder. Never.
She gathered up the cups and glasses and took them back to the kitchen. Running hot water in the sink she tried to make the pieces fit together. The one incident that came back to her was the night someone had entered her barn and turned Scrapiron loose. That positively wasn’t Hank. He said he’d been tailing someone. Someone who had been up at Stag’s Horn around the wolves.
There was also the incident of the poisoned wolf. And Thor had been set free to meet a possibly gruesome end.
None of those things were Hank Emrich.
Which brought up Kathy Lemon. There was something about the last conversation she’d had with her that provoked distrust. It wasn’t her ambition or lust for news. Shadoe was a competitor. She knew the cost of being the best. Competition wasn’t for the faint-hearted-in any business. But there was something.
As she washed the dishes slowly, she tried to pinpoint it. It had to do
with the newscaster’s comments about property for sale. None of the ranches had been put on the market yet. There had been talk among the ranchers, but that was worry and fear talking. No one, as far as Shadoe knew, had listed with a Realtor. No one had gone that far. So, how had Kathy learned about it?
With the dishes half washed, Shadoe dried her hands. She paced the kitchen, knowing she had finally come upon the thing that troubled her. Newscasters had their sources. It wasn’t inconceivable that someone had spoken with Kathy and aired their concerns and fears. Maybe she was jumping to conclusions.
Maybe she’d jumped to the wrong conclusion about Hank.
That thought burned like a hot brand, and Shadoe went up to her bedroom. She went through her closet for warm shirts, socks and jeans. Without thinking through what she was doing, she found a waterproof pack and stowed her gear. Back down in the kitchen she loaded up food supplies, flashlight and batteries, and her pistol. From the gun cabinet she took out a hunting rifle of her father’s and the shotgun she kept handy. When she’d accumulated ammunition and put it in her pack, she got her coat, rain slicker and boots.
Even as she picked up the telephone, she tried not to think about what she was doing. Jill hadn’t had time to get home yet, which was perfect. Shadoe dialed her number and left a brief message. “I’m going after Hank. Watch the horses for me. And don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”
Before her mind kicked into gear and she thought about the consequences of her actions, she went down to the barn and saddled Scrapiron. He was the strongest of all her horses, the one most likely to make the trip in such terrible weather. He was not the best trained or the best suited, but he stood the greatest chance of getting her up the mountain and back. He was also the animal she could stand to lose least of all.
“Let’s go, boy,” she said as she led him out of his stall and mounted The rain was falling at a slant, pushed by the wind. It was going to be a long, arduous ride, but Shadoe knew she had no choice. Hank had to be warned. She knew he hadn’t killed anyone, and she didn’t want him walking into an ambush, labeled a murderer. He was liable to be killed. She had to go.
Hat brim pulled low, she set out into the rain. Within two minutes, Scrapiron was soaked and cold and she let him trot. She had dismounted and was closing the gate at the Buffalo Pasture when she felt the hair on her neck rise. Beside her, Scrapiron shied and whinnied, a loud cry of fear.
Whirling, Shadoe could see nothing in the driving rain. The wind had picked up and the sky poured water. She was already regretting her decision, but turning back was out of the question. If she didn’t find Hank first, chances were she’d find him dead. The more she thought about it, the more she realized he’d been set up.
She wasn’t certain where he had gone. Certainly not back to the cabin. If his memories of the night they’d shared were anything like hers, he’d never set foot in that place again. He was camping. It seemed an impossible task to find him in the vast wilderness, but Shadoe knew the territory, and she knew Hank. There were two places she felt certain he would be. At least it was a starting place. By dawn, she would be close to the first.
“Easy, easy, fella,” she soothed the horse as she moved to a rock to mount. Her saddle was wet and slick, her pants soaking. Just as she got in the saddle, Scrapiron lunged forward and to the left. His unexpected action almost unseated her, but she hung on. She followed his panicked gaze and felt her heart crash against her ribs.
The huge silver wolf stood just within visual range.
Her hand went to the scabbard and closed around the rifle. Moving slowly, she shifted over to the shotgun. He was close enough that the shotgun would be a more effective—and more deadly—tool. Very carefully she drew it out. She’d never fired from Scrapiron’s back, and she knew she’d have only one chance. Once she made the shot the stallion would undoubtedly rear, bolt and head for home. If she missed, the wolf could be on her in a flash.
Just like in her dream, she felt him watching her. Stalking her. Her throat closed in fear. Still, even as she drew the gun up, he stared at her. He made no effort to approach, nor was he afraid of her. He simply stood.
Shadoe was transfixed by him. Though she held the weapon that could easily kill him, she didn’t take aim. She found it was impossible to lift the weapon to her shoulder when he was staring at her with such.certainty. Was she dreaming again? Very slowly she lowered the gun and used her legs to keep her horse from bolting. As unsettled as she was by the wolf, Scrapiron liked him less.
The wolf turned slowly, trotting several yards into the rain, almost out of sight. He turned back to look at her again.
Very carefully, Shadoe nudged Scrapiron forward. The wolf turned and trotted away again, then spun around to look. She followed again. This time he turned and kept going. It took all of Shadoe’s persuasive riding skills to nudge Scrapiron on, but she followed the path selected by the wolf and prayed that she hadn’t lost her mind completely. An animal that she loathed and feared, the same kind that had destroyed her family, was leading her deeper and deeper into the heart of the wilderness.
Thunder rumbled loud and threatening as Shadoe, the horse and the wolf traversed the northern trail angling toward Stag’s Horn. The night was so dark that she was forced to trust Scrapiron to pick the path as she kept her head down and her gaze fastened on the bobbing silver tail of the wolf. Not once did he look back.
She wasn’t certain how long she’d ridden, or how far they’d gone. All landmarks were obscured by the storm. At last the rain began to slack off and she found that she was high in the mountains. They’d covered far more ground than she’d realized, moving at a steady clip, walking only when the terrain demanded.
The sky had lightened enough so that she could tell she was on a cliff and she reined Scrapiron to a halt. The valley lay to the south of her, and ahead was the blacker-thannight outline of the highest mountains. On the eastern horizon, the dull gray sky was beginning to lighten with the promise of dawn. Deep in her thoughts about Hank, Shadoe had ridden the entire night.
She looked ahead and discovered that the wolf was gone.
For a moment she felt completely abandoned. She looked in all directions, noting that as the sky lightened, she could make out more and more landmarks that were familiar to her. She was exactly where she wanted to be.
Scrapiron was tired, but she urged him forward at a walk. If her calculations were correct, Hank wasn’t far away.
They climbed another steep cliff and the narrow trail opened onto a small plateau. The area was flat and protected by rocks and trees. Shadoe had camped there herself, years before. She felt Scrapiron tense and her hand went automatically to her rifle. He whinnied so hard she could feel him tremble beneath her, and then Winston’s answering whicker came through the dawn.
“So much for sneaking into camp,” she said, patting the horse’s shoulder. He’d done an excellent job of carrying her through the worst possible terrain. “I’m going to have to add sure-footed as a goat to your breeding résumé,” she said, relief making her giddy. She walked on toward the place where she figured Hank had put his campsite. There was no point in trying for stealth. He would have to be deaf not to know she was there.
He was standing beside a wet bedroll and looked as bedraggled as she felt when she rode into camp. He looked at her, then bent to lift his gear.
“Jim Larson was killed up at the wolf site.” She spoke first and fast. The silence between them was too hard to endure.
“I know.”
His words startled her. He had no way of knowing. Un less he was there.
She felt him watching her, and this time she didn’t make the mistake of jumping to any conclusion. “How did you know?”
“I was there. I saw it happen.”
Shadoe slid from the stallion. When her feet hit the ground they were numb, and for a moment she thought they wouldn’t hold her. But they did. “You saw it?”
“I went up to free the wolves.” He was lifting his saddle as
he spoke, headed for the buckskin who stood patiently now that Scrapiron was within sniffing distance. “I was about to open the cages when Jim came out for a check. Someone fired three shots, long-range rifle. One nearly hit me; one went wild; one hit Jim in the chest.”
Shadoe bit her lip. “Did you know they’ve accused you of murder?”
She was surprised by the shock on his face. “Me?”
So her trip hadn’t been in vain. “They found your rifle there.” She hesitated. “And an arrowhead.”
Hank settled the saddle on the gelding’s back and turned to her. “When Harry said he was sending me back to Washington, someone took my rifle and my service pistol. I thought it was peculiar, but.” He reached under the horse and eased the girth tight.
“I came up here to warn you, Hank. They’ll be out looking for you. It’s going to be open season if you don’t turn yourself in.” They would hunt him down the same way they’d go after the wolves. With powerful scopes and night vision rifles. Hank wouldn’t really stand a chance if they went after him. If they thought he was a cold-blooded murderer on the run. “I know it seems like I spend a lot of time getting you to come back, but here I am again.” She tried for a lighthearted shrug, but there was fear in her voice.
“I’m not going back until the wolves are freed.”
Dropping her reins to the ground, Shadoe stepped to him. “Hank, please. They’ll kill you.”
He looked at her. “You’ve wasted your time coming up here if you thought I’d go back and turn myself in to face a murder charge. I’m innocent.”
“Hank.” She put her hand on his arm. “Please. Don’t do this.”
“I don’t have a choice, Shadoe. This is something I have to do.” Her fingers ignited a flame on his skin. Compassion, concern, simple kindness, he didn’t care. Her touch was magic for him. He felt his heart rate increase and he knew if he didn’t turn away from her he’d drag her into his arms.
Shadoe felt her body warm at his close look. Hank was not a killer. Whatever else he had done, he deserved a chance to defend himself. If he went after the wolves alone, he wouldn’t get that chance. Shadoe lifted her chin. “Then let me help you.”
Midnight Prey Page 20
