Dani wiped her cheeks and drew a deep breath, letting it out slowly, struggling to get her emotions under control. Joe moved closer on the bench. She saw the reflection of lamplight on the mug he held out to her and took it from him. “Thanks.” She raised the coffee to her nose and the fumes made her eyes water. She took a tiny sip and felt the slow burn head south. “Awful,” she gasped.
“Medicinal,” Joe said. “You need it right now. What happened?”
“I went to photograph Custer’s herd and he was dead, along with three of his mares. All shot, probably late yesterday or early this morning. There’s good tracking snow in the higher spots, and on the road where I parked my car the boot tracks and tire tracks were clear in the mud.”
“Who do you call around here to report something like that?”
Dani drew a steadying breath. “We’ll notify Sheriff Conroy, and Ben Comstock’s the warden in these parts. Jessie knows him well. He’ll probably be the one to check it out.” She took another tiny sip of the fiery coffee. “There’s a big controversy over the wild horses on public lands. The ranchers who pay lease money to run their animals on the lands consider the horses an invasive species that steal the grass and water from their cattle.”
“So, by their own measure, their cattle are also an invasive species?”
Dani’s laugh was humorless. “Depends on your perspective. Anyhow, I doubt that little foal will live.” She stretched out her legs and winced from the pain. “I stashed all my photographic equipment by the side of the trail and my camping gear’s still up at the cabin. I’ll go back and get it all tomorrow. I don’t have the strength tonight and I seriously doubt anyone’ll be up there. It’s off-limits to motorized vehicles and not many people want to hike that far to camp.”
“Any idea who might have shot the horses?”
Dani rubbed a cramp in her thigh and took another tiny sip of coffee. “Hard to say. A rancher, maybe. Legally, the horses are protected as long as they’re on public lands, and Custer’s band was in a part of the national forest, but sometimes they stray. It’s tough to teach horses boundaries when they can’t read. Drought years are hard—they gravitate toward water and that’s usually a water source protected by a rancher. Even the water and graze on BLM lands is hotly contested. The situation can get really ugly. The government holds roundups yearly on public lands to keep the wild horse population in control, but a lot of ranchers don’t think that’s enough and want them all gone. Anyhow, my guess is, with the lack of snow this past winter, ranchers are already worried about the graze and water supplies. Any unbranded horse that strays off public lands is in danger, but this shooting was on public lands. Maybe a preemptive strike? They’re legally protected by the Wild Horse Act, but that’s in a perfect world, right?”
She heard a wry laugh in the darkness. “Right.”
“Jessie Weaver’s family owned these lands for generations, and let the wild horses run on them. She has some of the best bloodlines of pure Spanish mustangs, right here on this ranch. I met her through Molly but I actually heard about her before that through the Wild Horse Rescue. She’s legendary.” The whiskey made her stomach burn but Molly was right; she was feeling stronger. “She’s not only legendary, she’s really nice. She spoke at the Wild Horse Foundation meeting last fall, and she donates her time and experience to the Pryor herd during roundups. If anyone can save that little foal, Jessie can.”
“If she lives, what’s in her future?”
Dani took another sip. The whiskey didn’t taste so bad now. “I don’t have a clue. Do you want to adopt a wild horse?”
“I doubt she would be happy in a big city.”
“Are you?”
“The city’s all I’ve ever known, except for a four-year stint in the military before joining the police department. And I guess guns and violence are the sum of my life experience.”
“So you get shot up back east and come to the Wild West for some rest only to discover we have guns and violence, too. But really, Montana’s great. I love it here.”
“So does Molly.”
At that moment, Molly reappeared from the kitchen carrying a plate of food and a napkin rolled around silverware. “Ramalda won’t let you leave without eating this first. And you’re coming home with us tonight. You can leave your car here and we’ll pick it up tomorrow.”
“I can drive my car to your place, but I have Remington and Winchester, and your brother’s staying at your house.”
“We have three bedrooms, and your dogs are welcome, you know that. We even have a fenced yard. Besides, Joseph might be staying here. Now clean that plate before Ramalda comes out to check on you. That baby horse is alive because of you and Jessie’s going to feed her through a tube into her stomach when it’s warmed up enough. She’s going to teach Roon to do it, too. But she says it’s best to find her a foster mother, so she’s going to make a bunch of phone calls once she’s finished feeding her. Caleb’s already reported the shooting to Ben Comstock and Sheriff Conroy, and Comstock said he’d go up there to check it out first thing in the morning.”
“I’d like to go along,” Joe said.
“That’s too much climbing, Joseph,” Molly said. “You’re supposed to be recuperating.”
“I’ve had enough bed rest to last me the rest of my life. I need the exercise and I’d like to scope out the crime scene. I’m not staying here tonight. There’s no need of it.”
Dani set the coffee down between them. She wondered why Molly thought Joe might be staying at the Bow and Arrow, but the food in her lap smelled good, and she suddenly realized she was starving. Ravenous. She unrolled her silverware from the napkin. “You can come with me tomorrow morning, if you want, Joe. I have to get my camera and camping equipment. It’s not a tough hike if we take our time. We’ll bring some bear spray.”
“Bear spray?” Joe said.
Dani picked up a rib. “The Arrow Roots are grizzly country and they love fresh horse meat. I saw some mighty big bear tracks today.”
CHAPTER FIVE
DANI OPENED HER eyes to the predawn light, to the first birdsong of the morning, to the tantalizing aroma of fresh coffee brewing, and all was well until she remembered the wild horses. Things went downhill from there when she moved. Her tentative movement brought a moan of pain. She was lame, a combination of the struggle to get the foal down the mountain, the emotional stress of the rescue effort and the fact that yesterday had been her first climb of the season. How on earth was she going to walk back up there today?
Yet she had to go back. She had to stop by the Bow and Arrow and see how the foal was doing. Her very expensive camera equipment was stashed beside the trail, and her camping gear was in the forest service cabin up on the mountain. Those were all very big incentives to get out of bed. Plus she was curious to find out what Ben Comstock could discover about the shooter and what had happened to Custer’s four surviving mares. Last but not least, the prospect of spending another day with Joe wasn’t the least bit unpleasant.
“Remmie? Win?” At her softly spoken words, the heads of her two golden retrievers popped up beside her, all soft brown eyes and wagging tails. “Hey, boys. You were so gentle with that little filly yesterday—you’re both such good dogs.” Their tails flagged faster at her words. She moved again, moaned again, then swung her legs over the edge of the bed. “Give me five minutes and I’ll take you outside. I need a hot shower first.”
She limped into the little bathroom and emerged ten minutes later in a cloud of steam to face the two very impatient dogs. The hot shower had helped her sore muscles. She dressed quickly and they exited the guest room together, heading for the kitchen and the back door. As she let the dogs out into the fenced backyard, Dani was surprised to see Joe sitting on the back deck with a mug of coffee in his hands.
“Good morning,” she said. “Sleep well?”
> “Like a rock. You?”
“The same. The smell of coffee woke me up.”
“Help yourself, there’s plenty.”
While the dogs wandered about the yard, Dani poured herself a mug of very strong black brew and rejoined Joe on the porch. He was dressed the same as yesterday, blue jeans, running shoes and a warm, fleece-lined jacket borrowed from Steven and zipped up to his chin against the chilly morning air. She dropped into the chair next to his and leaned back to admire the view. She took her first sip of coffee, practicing her furtive sidelong glance. Joe had wonderfully thick wavy hair, a rugged masculine profile and the shadow on his unshaven jaw was very sexy.
“I’ve been sitting here trying to figure out what to get Molly and Steven for a wedding present,” he said. “I’m not good at stuff like that.”
“Your being here is the best present you could ever give her,” Dani said. “She was right in the middle of her first solo courtroom appearance when she got the text from your younger brother that you’d been shot. She ran out of the courtroom and would’ve been on the next flight back east if Steven hadn’t caught up with her.”
“What happened with her court case?”
“The judge granted a recess of one day. That was long enough for you to go through surgery and get a ‘two thumbs-up’ prognosis from the surgeons. Next day she was back in court—she won hands down. She’s very good. I don’t think she realizes how good she is.”
“Don’t tell her. She has the Ferguson ego. Her head will swell.”
“It’s the swelling in her stomach that I’m worried about. I have to remake her wedding gown, but I think I’ve got it figured out. She’s going to be beautiful.”
“I didn’t know you were a dressmaker. I thought you were an attorney.”
“The dressmaking’s a hobby. I enjoy it.”
“You were limping when you came out here. You okay for today’s hike?”
“I have a blister on one heel and I’m a little lame, but otherwise fit as a fiddle. You?”
“Never better. That meal at the Bow and Arrow yesterday rejuvenated me. If they served food like that in hospitals, survival rates would skyrocket, but the patients would never want to leave.”
Dani laughed, took another swallow of coffee and wondered if she had any aspirin in her day pack, because she was going to need a handful. “Well, looks like you’re going on your first mountain hike. We’ll leave right after breakfast.”
“If the warden’s heading up there first thing, we should probably get on the road as soon as possible.”
Dani canted her head to one side to study him. He did look better than he had yesterday. A lot better. In fact, if he looked any better, she’d be in big trouble. Who was she kidding? She was already in big trouble. She sighed. “At least let me finish my coffee. I don’t function well without caffeine.”
* * *
MOLLY SAW THEM off and told them to stop at the Longhorn Café to pick up an order to go that she’d phoned in for them. “You can’t do that hike on an empty stomach, Joseph. You shouldn’t be doing it at all,” she scolded as they were getting into Dani’s Subaru. He didn’t argue. By the time Dani reached the Longhorn Café he was hungry. They ate the fried-egg sandwiches Bernie had cooked for them as they drove the final miles to the ranch. “Bernie said Ben Comstock was in bright and early for breakfast and he was headed up to check out the shooting when he left,” Dani informed Joe en route. “He’s probably already figured out who the shooter was, he’s that good.”
“He has some suspects in mind?”
“If he doesn’t, he will. There aren’t many ranchers in the area and he knows them all. Bernie fixed you a second egg sandwich, Joe. It’s in the bag. Eat it. Could’ve been a hunter,” Dani continued. “Some of them hate the mustangs as much as the ranchers. They don’t like the wild horses because they think what they’re eating is better left for elk and deer.”
The fried-egg sandwiches were good and Joe ate his second with gusto. He was looking forward to the hike up Gunflint Mountain. He only hoped Dani didn’t leave him too far in the dust. “Where’d this particular bunch of horses come from? Did they stray from the Bow and Arrow?”
“Doubtful,” Dani replied. “Jessie’s fence lines along that side are rugged enough to hold the buffalo, and her wild horse herd is semitame. She winters them in the valley near the ranch and provides them with hay, so they don’t need to roam and forage for food. More than likely Custer and his mares originally strayed from the Pryor Mountains,” Dani said. “The ranchers maintain fences, but there are lots of places where horses could get through, especially in winter. Like any wild animal, fences don’t mean much to them. If they want to get around, they find a way. Custer’s band has been in the Arrow Roots for several years now. The forest service is in charge of managing the herd but nobody really knows what to do with them.”
* * *
WHEN THEY REACHED the Bow and Arrow, Dani was relieved to learn that the filly was still alive, still in the warm kitchen and being tended by Roon. Ramalda, a bright blue bandanna tied over her white hair, was cleaning up after breakfast, muttering in a mixture of Spanish and heavily accented English. “Usted está girando mi cocina en un establo de caballos! My kitchen now turned into horse barn!”
“I just fed her the last of the mare’s milk,” Roon told them as they gathered around. The foal was curled like a leggy dog in a big folded-up blanket.
Roon was a quiet young man, ruggedly built and still growing in height. Dani had met Roon several times and had always been impressed by his calm demeanor. “Jessie said that what you did was a good thing, getting the mare’s first milk. Not many would know to do that, Dani.”
“I was raised on a dairy farm. I know all about how important colostrum is.” Dani knelt down next to Roon and the foal lifted her head and nuzzled her hand. “She’s still very weak, isn’t she?”
“She’s tired. I took her outside and walked her around just before you got here,” Roon said. “Jessie made phone calls this morning and she located a mare in a BLM holding facility who just lost a foal. Caleb has gone to pick her up. He should be back by noon.” Roon was more talkative than usual today, despite having been up all night with the orphan.
“That’s good,” Dani said, gently stroking the foal’s neck. “She has to make it.”
“If anyone can save her, Jessie can.” Roon placed a hand on the filly’s withers. “But she has to want to live. Right now, she does not really want to.”
Dani knelt closer to murmur into the flickering ear. “Sweet girl, I promised your mother I’d find who hurt her, so I have to go now, but you hang on. You fight. You live, you hear me? You’re too beautiful to die.”
She pushed to her feet. Joe was standing by the kitchen door, watching her. The jolt she felt when their eyes met was like an electric shock that left her whole body tingling. “We’d better get going,” she said. “Comstock’s probably already arrested the shooter.”
The drive to the Arrow Root Mountains wasn’t long, less than an hour, but it was midmorning before they reached the trailhead. Comstock’s vehicle was still there, which surprised Dani. While she organized her day pack, Joe scouted tire tracks and boot prints at the parking area and snapped a few photos with his cell phone. He found a candy wrapper and a cigarette butt in the grass and brush beside the road and bagged both in an empty sandwich bag she’d had in her center console, stashing the bag inside his parka pocket.
“Your shooter drove a truck with oversize mud tires, wore size-twelve Red Wing boots, smoked Marlboros and liked Snickers. Time to climb Everest,” he said, eyeballing the route ahead.
“It’s not that steep,” Dani said, adjusting her pack on her shoulders. “We’ll take it nice and slow. When you need a rest, just sing out.”
Joe nodded and fell in behind her. Dani walked at half her n
ormal pace, the dogs running up ahead, then racing back to give her questioning looks, wondering why she was traveling so slowly. She paused where she’d stashed her camera gear in the brush not a quarter mile up the trail. “I’ll need this stuff to get more photos,” she said, slinging the camera bag over her shoulder and picking up the tripod. “And I’ll need to send the photos out so people know what’s happened here.”
“What kind of punishment is there for shooting wild horses?” Joe asked, lifting the camera bag off her shoulder and wresting the tripod out of her hand.
“On public lands, if they get caught, they pay a two-thousand-dollar fine and might get a year in jail, but I don’t think anyone’s ever been thrown in the slammer for shooting a wild horse,” she replied, hiking slowly upward. “Not many are ever caught, even with the rewards that get offered. The West’s a big enough place that if someone were to shoot a bunch of horses in a remote spot, like this, the scavengers would clean up all the evidence in short order. If I hadn’t hiked up here yesterday, the bones of those four horses might’ve been scattered to the four winds in another couple weeks. The thing is, nobody would miss them. Nobody really cares.”
“I wouldn’t say you’re nobody. Do you ride, too?”
“No. I just like horses.” Dani paused to give him a breather. “I think wild is beautiful.”
“Your photographs sure capture that sentiment.”
The wind tousled his dark hair and made Dani want to run her fingers through it. He had wonderful shiny hair. And his mouth, and his jaw with the dark stubble, and those dark eyes of his with those thick, dark lashes, were to die for. She wanted to photograph him standing there, so she could remember this day always, this moment and this man. “I took a photography course in college, just for fun,” she said, a little tongue-tied. “With the digital cameras available now, all that technical stuff is almost moot. Anyone can shoot a good picture.”
“Not me. There’s a lot more to it than just pointing and pushing a button. Did you go to school around here?”
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