“My father died not too long after you left,” he said quietly. “The ranch was in the red. I had to sell off most of the land to save this part. The homestead.”
Everett stood slowly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
Cooper sighed. “It would’ve been nice to have my best friend there to talk to. To help me figure things out. I was so angry, Everett. I’ve been angry for a long time and it never gets any better because every time I see her, I’m right back there at Cadence Falls. It’s where everything was perfect for one single moment of time.”
“I’ve never forgotten either,” Everett admitted. “I’m good at my job. I like what I do, and how I make a difference. But…I’d give it up in a heartbeat if I could relive that day.”
“You still love her,” Cooper said.
Everett met his gaze. “I never stopped. I love you both. My best friend and my girl.”
Suddenly, the apathy was gone, replaced with sorrow. Regret stared back at him in the mirror of Everett’s eyes, begging for understanding. For forgiveness. It made Cooper pause, and in that instant, he recognized the fact that he stood on a cliff. Did he go back to the way things used to be, with anger and everything eating him up on a daily basis? Or should he take the leap and jump into the unknown of letting go? It was a strange concept, because only a moment ago he had wanted to pound the shit out of Everett and pour out all his frustration on his ex-best friend. But truth was, he was tired of hurting. Of being alone. As much as he missed Amanda, perhaps he missed Everett a little more. After all, they had been closer than brothers. Had shared everything growing up, including the love of one woman. Cooper knew which way his heart had to go.
Cooper gave a wry smile. “Then I guess we better catch this asshole fugitive so we can sit down with Amanda and talk things out. Life’s too short not to be happy, and I’m about twelve years overdue for some.”
“We?”
“Hell, it’s been years since you’ve been to Cadence Falls. These mountains can be a bitch. You might have known the terrain back then, but I know it now.”
“Fletcher will never agree.”
“Fletcher doesn’t have a choice,” Cooper said. “You may be a tracker, but I’m going to be your guide.”
Chapter Five
The last thing Amanda wanted to do was serve coffee and beer to the lunch crowd when the town meeting broke up, but it was her shift and she never shirked her responsibilities. Her heart hurt like hell and all she wished was to lie in bed and pull the covers over her head, but being an ostrich had never been appealing. Even when Everett had first left, and Cooper had expected her to carry on without him as if he’d never existed. She couldn’t hide then and she wouldn’t hide now.
Her feelings should’ve changed over the years. Gone away or grown old. The odd times she’d seen Cooper through the years hadn’t been as excruciating as today. Then again, it’d been a long time since both of her men had been in the same room.
She caught herself on that mental note. Her men. When she’d been eighteen, the thought of loving two men hadn’t been nearly so taboo. It had been as natural as breathing. Cooper and Everett were her men. Why couldn’t she have both? Why couldn’t she love both? She did, and that was the reason why she couldn’t betray her feelings for Everett by staying with Cooper. If the roles had been switched, with Cooper leaving, she’d have done the same to Everett. There simply was no way to have one without having the other.
But it sure was lonely.
“Table six needs more coffee, Amanda,” her boss, Ted, cut through her musing.
“On it,” she replied.
She grabbed the carafe and headed out from behind the bar.
“You okay?” Ted asked.
She flashed him a small smile. “Just a shock seeing Everett.”
“Yeah,” he replied. “Be careful. Once they catch that fugitive, he’ll be gone again.”
She nodded. “I know.”
As she refilled coffee cups and took orders, her mind kept straying back to that one perfect day next to the falls. Over the years, she’d tried sleeping with different men. Dating. It never worked out. Perhaps it was time to confront the past and lay it all out there. The more she thought about it, the more she realized it was the only way she’d ever get her answers and heal. She was tired of having a broken heart.
At the end of the lunch shift, around four o’clock, the sheriff came in and sat in her section. He’d be her last customer for the day.
As she approached him, coffee cup in hand, he reached for his phone and barked out his name.
“McCoy here.” Pause. “What? Is Cooper dead? Okay. I’m on my way.”
He stood up and their eyes met. Locked. His shoulders stiffened, bracing like he always did when he had bad news to report. She didn’t even realize she’d stumbled until he caught her shoulders to steady her, but was too late for the mug in her hand. She dropped it and it shattered at her feet, splashing coffee everywhere. She absolutely didn’t care. Her entire world was falling apart around her with thoughts of Cooper hurt, and she suddenly wished she was an ostrich. That had to be less painful than waiting to hear if one of the men she loved was dead. Or dying.
“What happened?” she whispered, pushing the words out of lips that seemed stiff and cold.
“Ah, Mandy,” he muttered. “Damn it. That was Pete Red Feather. I guess the fugitive was hiding out in the ranch’s main barn. He’s got Coop.”
“Is he…”
She couldn’t finish the sentence.
“As far as I know, he’s alive. I’m heading to the ranch now.”
“I’m going with you.”
“I don’t think—”
“I wasn’t suggesting. Come on, Sheriff.”
She stormed out of the place, not even bothering to tell Ted where she was going. Fuck it all. She’d just gotten both of her men back in one town, she’d be damned if she let a fucking fugitive take one away from her now.
* * * *
It had been a long time since he’d ridden, and Everett had to take a moment to enjoy the feel of the powerful animal he rode, the wind hitting his face, and the sense of freedom that the open range instilled. As they approached the base of the mountain, the trees thickened. The increased foliage provided a denser path through the forest.
“I don’t remember this tree line,” he said.
“A few years ago, conservationists came to me, asking to plant trees,” Cooper replied. “I didn’t see the harm in it. Didn’t affect my cows this close to the mountain. But this is why you needed me along. The path to Cadence Falls has been obliterated.”
As predicted, Fletcher had flatly refused until Everett had pointed out they were losing daylight by arguing. Reluctantly, he’d agreed, but the other Marshalls now patrolled the base of the mountain, and Everett had to report in regularly. It was something he was used to, being part of the Shadow Wolves. The unit was small, as was their branch in Homeland Security, which was why they had to stick together. He and his fellow officers made a good team, they made a helluva difference in their fight against illegal narcotics, and yet, he’d walk away from it in a heartbeat if it meant having a second chance with Amanda.
The thick foliage made riding slow, but he took comfort from that, because if it was difficult for a horse, it would be difficult for a man. Mock would be forced to slow down, giving Everett time to find him. And find him, he would. He was a damn good tracker.
It was mid-afternoon by the time they made it to the falls. The water fell from a hidden spring deep in the mountains, bubbling melodically as it crashed to the rocks below. It brought back so many memories it almost stole his breath away. The land around might have changed, but the falls hadn’t. A small river fed the northern part of the tribal land, winding through the Blackfeet Reservation, dumping into the Cadence break before continuing its serpentine course. The falls had always been a favorite of teenagers in the past, but looking it over now, Everett knew it had been a long time since people had l
ast visited. Grass was overgrown. Froth lined the banks of the pond, where the sand stood undisturbed. He brought his horse to a halt and dismounted.
“A lot of people have left the lands,” Cooper said from behind him, as if able to read his mind.
“Why?”
“Most people are living below poverty level. Kids hit sixteen and they’re practically running to bigger cities for jobs. Food. A life. The land is hard work.”
“The land is pure,” Everett murmured. A patch of flattened grass caught his attention and he cautiously made his way over to it. “I’ve got blood.”
Cooper moved beside him. “Where?”
Everett pointed to a small rock. A small drop of dark crimson stained the flat, gray surface.
“Shit,” Cooper said. “I would never have seen that.”
Everett stood and looked around. “More than likely he dug out the tracker here and tossed it in the water.”
He saw a snapped branch about two yards away and headed over to it.
“He’s moving north. Come on.”
As he retrieved his horse, he placed a call to Fletcher, telling them of their position and what he’d seen. The bramble thinned as they moved away from the water source, but a high-pitched neigh and Cooper’s cursing stopped him.
“Shit!” Cooper swore.
“What?”
“My horse cut his leg.” Cooper dismounted and bent to inspect the leg. A gash split the horse’s flesh open, deep enough to let the blood flow freely. The poor beast stood trembling, wide-eyed as he breathed heavily through his nostrils. “This needs to be attended to.”
“Then go back,” Everett encouraged. “I can take it from here.”
Cooper frowned. “You need someone to watch your back.”
“It’s all good, Coop. I’ll stay in touch with Fletcher. I can’t let Mock go and you can’t make your horse lame.”
Cooper took a deep breath and stared at him. “You’ll be careful?”
“I’m always careful.”
“Still a cocky bastard, I see.”
Everett grinned. For the first time in a long time, his soul felt light. It was good to smile. “Go on. I’ll see you soon. I’ve got daylight wasting.”
Cooper nodded, grabbed his horse’s reins and turned the animal around. He couldn’t ride him so he’d walk him home.
It didn’t take long for Everett to reach a clearing, so he dismounted and studied the ground. Tracking could be tedious work, but most of the time criminals didn’t know how to hide their tracks well enough to completely disappear. They tried, but he was trained to spot even the most minute of clues.
The clearing was large, and by the time Everett had found what he was looking for, almost two hours had passed. Mock, however, hadn’t continued north like he’d expected. The evidence pointed south, back the way he’d come. Had Mock gotten lost?
His phone vibrated, and he answered it immediately. “Apisi here.”
“Storm is coming in,” Fletcher told him. “You’re going to lose any hope in following after the son of a bitch.”
Everett looked up. Gunmetal-gray clouds had rolled in with the sudden whipping of the wind. And now that he’d been made aware of it, he felt the electric charge in the air.
“Come on down,” Fletcher ordered. “I was told flash floods are possible. We’re going to have to find Mock another way.”
Everett hung up and studied the ground again. Details never lied, and the tracks were as clear as day to him. Mock must have felt the change in the atmosphere as well and had decided to head someplace for shelter. He wracked his brain, trying to think of the closest place Mock would head. The years could’ve brought hunting blinds, or deer stands. Or even a cabin or two. But something in his gut was telling him that Mock had a bigger target. If he couldn’t make it to Canada on foot, then he’d need a plan B.
Everett looked south, down the mountain, and he followed the panic underlining his instinct. He turned his horse around before he mounted the roan. He made his way back toward the homestead, all the while trying to convince himself he was wrong. Marshalls were patrolling. There was no way he could avoid them all. Could he?
It was a question he couldn’t simply say no to and move on.
Chapter Six
When Cooper reached the foot of the mountain, he found Pete waiting with the trailer. He’d called him to bring it, not wanting to subject his horse to unnecessary pain, and by the time they’d loaded the horse inside, the eastern sky was growing dark.
“Are the men back?” he asked.
“Yep,” Pete replied. “Did you catch the bad guy?”
“What do you think?”
The old man shrugged and stepped a little more on the gas. The truck rattled over the ground, although the trailer prevented them from going too fast.
“You talk with Walking Bear’s grandson?”
Cooper sighed and leaned his head back. “It’s none of your business.”
“I’m only guessing here,” Pete continued, as if Cooper hadn’t said anything. “But based on your attitude today, I assume that your bad mood for the past twelve years has to do with the áápi girl and the long-lost tracker.”
“Stop calling her the white girl,” Cooper ordered.
“She is the white girl.”
“I’m white.”
“You are part Blackfoot. Not the same.”
“Her stepdad was Blackfoot.”
“She is still the áápi girl,” Pete replied. “But, if she will make this bad mood go away, I will open my arms to her.”
Cooper couldn’t stop a small smile from touching his lips. “I’ll hold you to that.”
When they reached the main barn, he brought the horse out and let Pete bandage the leg while he went to grab a gun. The sky continued to darken, and Cooper knew Everett would need help. He might have all the Federal Marshalls out there helping, but Cooper didn’t feel right simply sitting at home twiddling his thumbs.
As he entered, all the horses were in their stalls, having been properly tended to. The men were, no doubt, in the bunk house eating dinner. There wasn’t much to do on a ranch when a storm hit. He pulled the keys from his pocket to open the tack room, but he noticed the lock hung lopsided on a badly dented bracket, which made it look as if it had been hit by something big and heavy. Cooper slowly opened the door and looked inside, but a scuffling behind him had him spinning around. He spun around to find a tall, thin man standing in the shadows. The torn, dirty jumpsuit was all Cooper needed to see to know that this was Harold Godfrey Mock.
“Thought you were on the mountain, making a run for the border,” Cooper said. The sudden rush of adrenaline had his heart pounding heavily. It was an effort to remain calm, like staring down a rattler slithering through grass. Mock held one of the ranch pistols down at his side. “How’d you make it here before I did?”
“You and I both know I’d never have made it to Canada,” Mock replied. He pointed to his left foot. “Not with this.”
Dried blood covered his plain slip-on shoe. One handcuff still engulfed his left wrist, while the empty side dangled down. A bloody scrape wrapped around his right wrist.
“I had to remove that damn tracker with a fucking shank I made in prison,” Mock explained. “I knew they’d be bringing in dogs or something to find me. So I decided to come up with a better plan.”
“Hiding in my barn?”
Mock shrugged. “It seemed to be a lucky break. I heard you talk about the guns. And now I have a hostage.”
Cooper shook his head. He didn’t know why he felt so calm. Perhaps it was because Mock himself wasn’t showing one ounce of fear or anxiety. That in itself was slightly worrisome. “Marshalls will never negotiate.”
“Then you’ll drive the truck,” Mock said.
“Pardon?”
Mock pressed the gun to Cooper’s chest. “Canada is only a few hours away, so you’re going to drive me there.”
“And then what? Canada has an extradition treaty wi
th the USA. You’ll be right back where you started.”
“Maybe,” Mock said. “But I bet no one will be looking too hard for me there, at least long enough for me to get out of North America. So come on. The storm will help us get away.”
“Hey, boss, the horse is—”
At Pete’s surprise entrance, Mock spun with the gun still pointed. It went off, but Cooper couldn’t tell if Pete was hit or not. He didn’t waste the distraction and attacked, jumping on Mock and pushing the barrel upward, while trying to get the gun away. Mock was surprisingly strong as he fought back. Both grappled for the weapon. Mock elbowed Cooper, who let out a painful oomph, and managed to wrangle the gun away from Cooper. Thinking quickly, Cooper kicked Mock, and the man doubled over with pain etched on his face. Cooper dove for the tack room and shut the door as a bullet slammed into the door frame.
Cooper grabbed one of the other pistols from the rack. Making sure the chambers were loaded, Cooper waited, straining to hear any noise outside the tack room. The thunderous hammering of his heart made hearing difficult.
Minutes passed, long moments that had Cooper wondering if perhaps Mock had moved on. He couldn’t leave Pete, who may have been hurt, out there alone. Taking a deep breath, Cooper stood to the side and used his foot to nudge the door open. When no bullets came flying at him, he peeked around the corner and didn’t see anyone. Gathering his courage, he ran to the barn door and again, glanced out to see if the coast was clear. A big something smashed into his back and Cooper flew forward. He dropped the gun, which skidded out of reach. Cooper rolled in time to see Mock point the barrel directly at his forehead. At such a close distance, there was no way he could possibly miss.
Mock’s eyes were black and dead. “You can either live and be my hostage, or you can die and I’ll take the old man as my hostage. You choose.”
Cdaence Falls Page 3
