Snowbound Suspicion

by Cindi Myers

  “A padded bra,” Bette said, her tone daring him to say something about it.

  “Any idea who was doing the shooting?” Travis asked.

  “Never got a look at him,” Cody said. “He fired on us first in the open, then followed us in here. He had us pinned down while he was shooting from behind those rocks.” He gestured toward the shooter’s location. “I kept him from getting any closer, then you scared him off.”

  “I need you to wait here while I take a look,” Travis said.

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  Mr. Walker stayed with them while Travis went to investigate the rock outcropping. “When you didn’t show up for supper, we figured your snowmobile might have broken down,” Mr. Walker said.

  “Someone cut the wiring harness,” Cody said. “It shouldn’t be too hard to fix.”

  “I’m not too worried about that machine right now, son,” Mr. Walker said. He turned to Bette. “How about you? Are you okay?”

  “I am now,” she said. “You arrived just in time.”

  The approaching beam of Travis’s flashlight signaled his return. “I didn’t find much,” he said. “Some impressions in the snow. We’ll come back in the morning and take a better look. It’s getting too dark to track anybody right now.”

  “Whoever it was is probably long gone,” Cody said.

  Travis handed his father the flashlight and moved to Cody’s other side. “Can you walk?” he asked.

  “I can walk,” Cody said. With Travis’s help, he staggered up. Bette followed, Mr. Walker bringing up the rear. Travis helped Cody onto his snowmobile, then Bette climbed on behind his dad.

  The return trip to the ranch had none of the joy of the morning’s journey. Bette held on to Mr. Walker, teeth chattering as icy wind buffeted her, her gaze fixed on the dark shadow of Cody’s back on the snowmobile just ahead.

  As they neared the ranch, Travis slowed. “We’ve got a phone signal now,” Mr. Walker called over his shoulder. “He’s phoning ahead for help.”

  Fifteen minutes later, they arrived at the ranch house, where a small crowd waited to greet them. “An ambulance is on the way,” Travis said. “Let’s get inside, where it’s warm.”

  Bette climbed off the snowmobile, stiff with cold. She tried to move toward Cody, but Lacy put her arm around her and steered her toward the house. “You’re half-frozen,” she said. “Come in here by the fire.”

  “Cody—” Bette looked over her shoulder.

  “I’ve got Cody,” Travis said. “Go inside.”

  Too worn out to argue, Bette let Lacy lead her into the house and help her out of the bulky helmet, coveralls and boots. She sighed with relief as Lacy tucked her under a blanket in a chair by the fire. A few second later, Cody came in, leaning on Travis’s arm. But he balked at sitting on the sofa. “I’m not going to bleed on your furniture,” he said.

  Mr. Walker brought a chair from the dining table and Cody lowered himself gingerly into it. His face was gray, tight with pain. Bette hurt, looking at him, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away. She couldn’t forget the way he had lain on top of her, protecting her body with his own. “Where is the ambulance?” she asked.

  “It’s coming,” Lacy said.

  “What happened?” Emily asked. “Travis didn’t give a lot of details when he called.”

  “Someone wrecked the snowmobile, then started shooting at us,” Cody said. “He had us pinned down behind a tree when the cavalry arrived and scared him off.”

  “Who would do something like that?” Emily asked.

  “If I knew the answer to that, I sure wouldn’t be sitting here right now,” Cody said.

  The strident wail of the ambulance stopped all conversation. Mr. Walker went outside to direct them and moments later two paramedics came in and began examining Cody.

  Lacy handed Bette a mug and pulled a chair closer to her. “Are you okay?” she asked. “No wounds or frostbite or anything that needs seeing to?”

  “No, I’m fine.” She sipped the mug, which turned out to be hot chocolate, heavily laced with peppermint schnapps. Soothing warmth spread through her.

  “That must have been terrifying,” Lacy said.

  “Yes.” The fear still hadn’t left her. They both might have been killed. No. She couldn’t think about that. They were safe. They were going to be okay.

  Cody let out a sharp cry and she had to set the mug on the table beside her, her hands shook so violently. Then the paramedics helped him onto a waiting stretcher and draped blankets over him.

  Travis came and bent over Bette. “They’re taking him to the clinic in town to have the bullet removed,” he said. “I’m going to go with him. Is there anything else you can tell me about the guy who shot at you?”

  She shook her head. “We never saw him. Cody said he had a rifle. He followed us for a while. I think he was waiting for us to come out into the open again, then he came in after us. I don’t know who he is, I swear.”

  “Doug and Rainey both served supper tonight,” Travis said. “So it wasn’t them. We’re still trying to find Carl Wayland.”

  “Call us after Cody comes out of surgery,” Lacy said.

  “I will.” He kissed her goodbye and left.

  “Drink your chocolate,” Lacy said. “I’ll bring you something to eat.”

  “I don’t think I could eat,” Bette said.

  “Then I’ll bring it and you can pick at it.”

  After she left, Bette leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes. She had thought the events of the afternoon would replay in her head but instead the image that came to her was of Cody, bringing up that first fish and giving her a look of triumph—the kind of look friends would share.

  The kind of look she thought she would like to see over and over again. For the rest of her life.

  * * *

  CODY CALLED THE sheriff’s department the next morning just after eight. Adelaide answered and when Cody said he wanted to speak to the sheriff, she informed him that Travis was still at the ranch, probably eating breakfast. “He was out on a call very late last night,” she said.

  “I know,” said Cody. “I was that call.”

  “Marshal Rankin, is that you?” Adelaide asked. “How are you doing?”

  “I’m sore and grumpy and don’t intend to stay in this clinic one minute longer than necessary.”

  “I don’t know what you expect the sheriff to do about that.”

  “I want him to come get me and take me back to the ranch. But since he’s not there—Adelaide, everyone knows you really run that department. Can’t you send a deputy over to get me?”

  “This is a sheriff’s department, not a taxi service.”

  “I’m an officer of the law, so consider it an interagency favor.” No response. He resorted to begging. “Please, Adelaide. They don’t even make decent coffee in this place and I had to threaten the nurse to get her to bring me my clothes.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Ten minutes later, Gage walked into the clinic. He grinned when he saw Cody, who was sitting on the edge of the narrow clinic bed, his shoulder swathed in bandages. “I figured your shirt was trashed, so I brought you this.” He held out a Rayford County Sheriff sweatshirt. “Size extra-large, so it should fit over those bandages.”

  “Thanks.” Cody stood and began struggling into the shirt. Gage moved over to help him. “Let’s get out of here,” Cody said, when he was dressed.

  When they were in the cruiser, Gage handed him a large cup of coffee. “Adelaide sent this,” he said.

  “Bless her.” He popped the lid and drank deeply.

  “She said you were a real bear on the phone. Want to tell me why?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Having a divot taken out of my shoulder and trying to sleep in that clinic on that narrow bed, and nobody telling me any
thing about what is going on—I think that would put anyone in a bad mood.”

  “Normally we send gunshot victims to the hospital in Junction,” Gage said. “The clinic isn’t really set up for surgery. And from what I hear, you were lucky. The bullet just missed shattering your shoulder blade.”

  Cody grunted and drank more coffee. He began to feel more human. “How is Bette?” he asked.

  Gage glanced at him. “Was she shot, too?”

  “No. I just... I just wondered how she’s doing.”

  “I haven’t heard. You can ask her yourself when you get to the ranch. I called and let Travis know you were coming.”

  “Any sign of Carl Wayland?”

  “Nope. But unless he hiked out, he’s still here. Last avalanche on the pass took out a bunch of power lines—poles and line strung all over the highway, under about ten feet of packed snow and rock. It’s going to take a while to fix that mess.”

  Another grunt from Cody. That seemed to be the best he could do at the moment. His shoulder hurt like the devil, but he had refused the pain meds the doctor had prescribed, not wanting to fog his brain. He had lain awake in the early morning hours, replaying everything that happened yesterday. But no matter how many times he went over the puzzle, he couldn’t find the missing pieces. That, more than anything, had put him in a bad mood.

  At the ranch, Travis came out to meet him, followed by Bette and Lacy. Cody refused Travis’s offer of assistance and got out of the car under his own power. He caught Bette’s eye and nodded. He was all right. And he was going to make things all right for her.

  “Should you be out of the hospital?” Lacy asked.

  “There is no hospital,” he said. He moved past her. “I can mend here as well as anywhere.”

  “You look like you’re in pain,” Bette said, coming alongside him.

  “So do you,” he said. “What’s your excuse?” He winked, to let her know there was no heat behind the words, no matter how gruff they may have sounded. That earned him a smile.

  “I’d better get back to work,” Gage said. “And I’ve got a bachelor party to see to.”

  “I don’t think now is a good time for that,” Travis said. “We should put it off.”

  “Moe is closing down the whole pub for us,” Gage said. “It won’t kill you to take a few hours to say goodbye to single life with your friends.”

  “Neither you nor Dwight had a bachelor party,” Travis said.

  “Right. So we’re really looking forward to yours. It’s too late for you to back out now.”

  “Besides, you have to get out of the house so we women can have our party,” Lacy said.

  Gage glanced at Cody. “If you feel up to it, you’re still welcome to come,” he said. “Since you probably can’t drink, you can be our designated driver.”

  “I’ll let you know,” Cody said.

  When Gage had gone, Travis joined Cody by the fire. “Dad and I went out to the lake again at first light,” he said. “We were able to follow tracks we think were the shooter’s to that rock outcropping, back to where it looks like he parked a snowmobile. But then we lost him.”

  “What about your wrecked snowmobile?”

  “Dad doesn’t think it’ll be too hard to fix. We brought home the fish you caught—frozen solid in that bucket.”

  “Guess we’ll take a rain check on that fish fry,” Cody said. He pulled a plastic bag from his pocket. “I brought you something.”

  Travis studied the smashed piece of metal. “The bullet they took out of you?”

  “They got a few bone fragments, too, but I didn’t think they qualified as evidence.” He nodded to the bag. “It’s pretty distorted, but you can tell it’s a .225 round.”

  “Maybe it will help, if we ever find anybody to pin this on.” He pocketed the bag. “What does the doctor say about your shoulder?”

  “I didn’t smash my shoulder blade. I didn’t slice an artery and bleed out—which I already kind of figured. Didn’t tear any major ligaments. Chipped some bone, damaged some muscle. I need physical therapy and for the rest of my life I’ll know when a snowstorm is on its way.” He blew out a breath. “Two months off work, at least. Maybe three.”

  “That bites.”

  “Yeah, well. Maybe I’ll take up a hobby.”

  “I have to go,” Travis said. “I’m determined to track down Carl Wayland today.”

  “I hope you do.”

  Travis started to walk away, then turned back. “About this party tonight. You really don’t have to come.”

  “Are you kidding? I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  * * *

  BETTE SPENT THE rest of Saturday morning in the kitchen, preparing the food for the tea that evening, glad to have something to keep her busy. She was pulling a sheet of petit fours out of the oven when Rainey came in. Bette braced herself for some criticism or complaint. “What are you making?” Rainey asked.

  The question surprised Bette. Rainey sounded genuinely interested. “These are petit fours for Lacy’s bridesmaids’ tea,” she said. “They don’t look like much right now, but they will after I decorate them.”

  “I guess those girls really go for that fancy food,” Rainey said. “I never learned how to do all that. All I know is plain cooking.”

  “Every meal I’ve had here has been excellent,” Bette said, truthfully. “I imagine you make exactly the kinds of meals the family loves.”

  “Oh, yeah. Cowboys like plain food that’ll stay with them when they’re working all day,” Rainey said. “Still, it might be nice to know how to do fancy stuff.”

  “You could learn,” Bette said. “You already know how to cook, so it wouldn’t take you any time at all to pick up a few new techniques. I could even show you if you like.”

  “Maybe. Though I don’t know if I’d have time. They keep me pretty busy around here.”

  “I imagine you were glad to have your son come and help you,” Bette said.

  “I was. Except...”

  “Except what?”

  “He hasn’t been all that much help since you came.” She gave Bette a sideways look. “I was hoping you could tell me why.”

  “What do you mean?” Bette asked.

  “It took me a while to figure it out, but it finally come to me—Doug is afraid of you. That’s why he avoids you so much.”

  “Afraid of me?” She stripped off her oven mitts and faced Rainey. “Why would he be afraid of me?”

  “I was hoping you could tell me.”

  Ah. Maybe this explained Rainey’s uncharacteristic friendliness. “What makes you think Doug is afraid of me?”

  “Just the way he acts. I know my boy. What I can’t figure out is why.”

  “I don’t know what to tell you,” Bette said. “I haven’t done anything to him, I promise. I mean, what could I do?”

  “Well, he’s always had some strange ideas,” Rainey said. “But he’s a good boy. He’s made some bad choices, but he’s promised me he’s going to do better.”

  “Then I hope he will,” Bette said. The timer dinged and she pulled the last tray of petit fours out of the oven. “These need to cool before I decorate them. The oven is all yours if you need it to prepare lunch.”

  “Oh, I made a stew and sandwiches,” Rainey said. “We’ll be fine.”

  “I think I’ll go see if Lacy needs any help with the decorations for tonight,” Bette said. She still wasn’t that comfortable with the older woman.

  She was crossing the living room when Cody hailed her. “Bette!”

  She turned to find him moving toward her. He still wore the sweatshirt over one arm, leaving the other arm free. “Can you help me with something in my cabin?” he asked. “It’s supposed to be a surprise for Travis, so I can’t really tell Lacy or his folks.”

  “I’d like to,” she
said. “But I was going to see if Lacy needed any help with the decorations for her party.”

  “Emily is helping her,” he said. “It sounded to me like they have everything under control.”

  “All right.” She was curious to know this big secret of his.

  They collected their coats and crossed to Cody’s cabin, which was the twin of Bette’s. The only real difference was a large stuffed cow that occupied the chair beside the small table. It was easily three feet long and two feet tall. “Where did you get this?” she asked, hefting the brown-and-white plush beast.

  “Gage got it somewhere,” Cody said. He slipped out of his coat, then helped her with hers. “This was all his idea—it’s a gag gift, for the party tonight.”

  “You aren’t going to the bachelor party, are you?” she said.

  “Why not? I can suffer there as well as I can here, and at least there I’ll have distractions.”

  She scowled at him.

  “You’re cute when you’re disgusted with me,” he said.

  She launched the cow at him. He caught it by one hind leg, grinning. She couldn’t help but grin back. “What am I supposed to help you with?” she asked.

  He set the cow on the table and picked up a set of deer antlers. “We have to tie these to the cow’s head.”

  “Why?”

  “According to Gage, when Travis was twelve, his father and his uncle took him on his first deer hunt. Travis was so nervous and excited he ended up shooting a neighbor’s cow. He spent all summer working to pay for that beef.”

  “Travis did that?” She had a hard time imagining the straight-arrow sheriff ever coloring outside the lines, even as a kid.

  “Gage swears it’s true.”

  “And, of course, his brother never let him forget it,” she said.

  “Of course.” Cody picked up a spool of brown ribbon. “I bought this. I figured we could use it to tie on the antlers—but that’s kind of hard to do one-handed. And you probably tie a better bow than I do, anyway.”

  “I ought to tie a bow around your neck,” she said, as she took the spool from him.