Black Hills

by Nora Roberts

  carried to them. “Are you two fools going to stand around throwing ice, or get some work done around here?” She leaned on the hoe she’d been using to clean the ice from her kitchen garden.

  “Busted,” Coop said.

  “She’s mad ’cause the hail tore into her kale. Fine by me. I can’t stand the stuff. Be right there, Lucy!” Sam brushed his hands on his pants as they started back. “I’ve been thinking about what you said about getting more help around here. I’m going to look into it.”

  “That’s good.”

  “It’s not that I can’t handle the work.”

  “No, sir.”

  “I just figure you should put more of your time into the business. If we get somebody to pitch in with what needs doing around here, that gives you that time for the rentals and guiding. That’s what makes practical sense.”

  “I agree.”

  “And I figure you won’t be using the bunkhouse all that much longer. Not if you’ve got any sense or spine. If you’ve got that sense and spine, you’ll be adding on to that cabin of Lil’s. You’ll want more room when you settle down and start a family.”

  “You kicking me out?”

  “Bird’s got to leave the nest.” Sam grinned over at him. “We’ll give you a little time first. See you don’t waste it.”

  “Things are complicated right now, Grandpa.”

  “Boy, things are always complicated. The two of you might as well untangle some of the knots together.”

  “I think we’re doing that, or starting to. Right now, I’m focused on keeping her safe.”

  “You think that’s going to change?” Sam stopped a moment, shook his head at Coop. “It won’t be what it is now, God willing, but you’ll be working to keep her safe the rest of your life. And if you’re blessed, you’ll be keeping the children you make between you safe. Got no problem sleeping with her, have you?”

  Coop barely resisted the urge to hang his head. “None.”

  “Well, then.” As if that was that, Sam continued on.

  “To get back to the business,” Coop said. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you and Grandma about it. I’m looking to invest.”

  “Invest what?”

  “Money, Granddad, which I’ve got.”

  Sam stopped again. “The business is doing well enough. It doesn’t need a . . . what’s it? Infusion.”

  “It would if we expanded. Built on to the stables, added pony rides, a small retail space.”

  “Retail? Souvenirs?”

  “Not exactly. I’m thinking trail gear and supplies. We get a lot of customers who buy them somewhere else. Why shouldn’t they buy their trail mix, water bottles, trail guides, and disposable camera when they realize their battery’s dead from us? If we upgraded the computer, the printer, we could do photographs, make them into postcards. A mother’s going to want a postcard of her little cowgirl sitting on a pony. She’s going to want a dozen of them.”

  “That’s a lot of add-on.”

  “Think of it as an organic expansion.”

  “Organic expansion.” Sam snorted. “You beat all, Coop. I expect we could think on it. Postcards,” he muttered and shook his head.

  Frowning, he shaded his eyes against the beam of the sun that broke through after the storm. “That’s Willy coming.”

  Lucy had seen him, too, and stopped to pull off her gardening gloves, push at the hair the wind blew around her face.

  “Miss Lucy.” Willy tapped the brim of his hat. “The hail sure did a job on your garden.”

  “Could’ve been worse. Doesn’t seem to’ve hurt the roof, so that’s a blessing.”

  “Yeah. Sam. Coop.”

  “Willy. Did you get caught out in that hail?” Sam asked him.

  “I missed the worst of it. Weatherman never said a thing about hail today. I don’t know why I listen half the time.”

  “That’s about the amount he gets it right. Half.”

  “If that. Seems to’ve blown in some warm though. Maybe that’ll stay awhile. Coop, I wonder if I could have a word with you.”

  “William Johannsen, if you’ve got something to say about that murdering so-and-so, you say it right out.” Lucy fisted her hands on her hips. “We’ve a right to know.”

  “I guess that’s the truth. I’m going by to talk to Lil, so it’s not something you won’t hear.” With a nudge of his knuckle, he tipped up the rim of his hat. “We found Tyler’s wallet. Or what we believe is Tyler’s wallet. Had his driver’s license and some other ID in it. No cash, no photographs like his wife said he had. But all the credit cards she listed.”

  “Where?” Coop demanded.

  “See, now, that’s the interesting thing. Well west of here, only about five miles from the Wyoming border. It looked like he was heading toward Carson Draw. The rain washed some of his trail, but once the men picked it up, they followed it well enough.”

  “That’s a ways from here,” Lucy said. “A good long ways.”

  Out of his current territory, Coop thought. Out of the hunting ground. “He took the pictures but left the ID.”

  “That’s a fact. One theory is he figured he was far enough away from the search area to toss the wallet. Another is he just dropped it by mistake.”

  “If he wanted to toss it, he could’ve used the river, or buried it.”

  Willy nodded at Coop. “That’s a fact, too.”

  “But this is good news, isn’t it? If he’s that far west and still moving, he’s leaving.” Lucy reached out for Coop’s arm. “I know he needs to be caught, to be stopped, but I won’t be sorry if that happens miles from here. So this is good news.”

  “Might be.”

  “It’s sure not bad news,” she shot back at Willy.

  “Now, Miss Lucy, in circumstances like this, I’ve got to be cautious.”

  “You be cautious. I’ll be sleeping easier tonight. Come on in and sit down a minute or two. I’ve got some sun tea cold and coffee hot.”

  “I’d like that, I would, but I’ve got to get on. I want you to sleep easier tonight, but I want you to keep your doors locked just the same. Don’t you work too hard now. Miss Lucy, Sam.”

  “I’ll be right back.” Coop walked off with Willy. “How long to verify it’s Tyler’s wallet, and match his prints?”

  “I’m hoping tomorrow. But I’m willing to put money down it’s Tyler’s, and that Howe’s prints will be on it.”

  “Are you putting the same money down that he tossed it, or dropped it?”

  “That’s not a gamble I’m willing to take.”

  “I’d put mine on him planting it.”

  Willy pressed his lips together as he nodded. “I’d say we’re on the same page of this book. It just strikes too easy. We barely find a sign of this bastard for days. Then he leaves a trail, even after it rains, that my nearsighted grandmother could follow. I may be small-time law, but I’m not as stupid as he thinks.”

  “He wants a little time, a little space, to prepare for whatever he has in mind. You make sure Lil understands that. I’ll be doing the same when I see her, but I want her to hear it from you first.”

  “I’ll do that.” He opened the door of his cruiser. “Coop, the feds are putting their focus on Wyoming. Could be they’re right.”

  “They’re not.”

  “The evidence points there, so they’re following the evidence. All I’ve got is a gut telling me he’s hornswoggling us. That’s what I’ll be telling Lil.”

  He got in the car, tipped Coop a salute, and drove back down the farm road.

  BY THE TIME Coop got to the compound, the dusk-to-dawn lights had glowed on. He knew by the sounds the animals made they were feeding. A group of interns, finished for the day, piled into a van. Immediately, Weezer rocked out.

  A glance at the office cabin told him that was locked up for the night. Still, he made the rounds, over gravel, concrete, mud to offices, sheds, stables, ed center, commissary to assure himself all was empty and secure.

  Li
ghts shone in the windows of Lil’s cabin. As he circled, he saw her—her hair pulled back from her face in a tail, the strong blue of her cotton sweater, even the glint of the silver dangles that swung at her ears. He watched her through the glass, the way she moved as she poured wine, sipped it while she checked something on the stove.

  He saw the steam rise, and through it the strong lines of her profile.

  Love rolled through him, over him, in one strong, almost violent, wave.

  Should be used to it, he thought. Used to her after so much time, even counting the time without. But he never got used to it. Never got through it or over it.

  Maybe his grandfather was right. Time was wasting.

  He stepped up on the porch, pushed open the door.

  She spun from the stove, drawing a long, serrated knife from the block as she whirled. He saw, in that moment, both the fear and the courage.

  He held up both hands. “We come in peace.”

  Her hand shook, very slightly, when she shoved the knife back in the block. “I didn’t hear you drive up, and didn’t expect you to come in the back.”

  “Then you should make sure the door’s locked.”

  “You’re right.”

  Time might be wasting, Coop thought, but he had no right pushing now.

  “Willy’s been by?” Coop asked and got down a second glass.

  “Yes.”

  He glanced at the stove, the bottle of good white wine. “Lil, if you’re thinking of a kind of celebration dinner—”

  “When did I suddenly go stupid?” She bit off the words. Snapping more out as she took the lid off the skillet and made him lift his brows when she poured the good wine over the chicken she had sautéing. “He’s no more in Wyoming than I am. He made sure he left enough signs for them to follow, and might as well have put up a ‘Here’s a Clue’ sign pointing to that wallet.”

  “Okay.”

  “It’s not okay. He’s trying to make fools out of us.”

  “Which is worse than trying to kill us?”

  “It adds insult. I’m insulted.” She grabbed up her wine and drank.

  “So you’re cooking chicken using twenty-five-dollar-a-bottle wine?”

  “If you knew anything about cooking you’d know if it’s not good enough to drink, it’s not good enough for cooking either. And I felt like cooking. I told you I could cook. Nobody said you had to eat it.”

  After she’d slapped the lid back on the skillet he crossed to her. He said nothing, just grabbed her, tightening his hold when she tried to pull away. Drawing her in, holding her to him, saying nothing at all.

  “He’s up there somewhere, laughing. It makes it worse. I don’t care how petty it is, it makes it worse. So I’m going to be pissed off.”

  “That’s fine, be pissed off. Or look at it this way: He thinks we’re stupid, that you’re stupid. He thinks we bought his little game, and we didn’t. He underestimated you, and that’s a mistake. It took a lot of time and effort for him to make that trail, plant that wallet. He wasted it on you.”

  She relaxed a little. “When you put it that way.”

  He lifted her face to his, kissed her. “Hi.”

  “Hi.”

  He ran his hand down the length of her braid, wishing he could ask, demand, even beg. And let her go. “Any hail damage?”

  “Nothing major. How about at your grandparents’?”

  “To my grandfather’s secret pleasure, they lost most of the kale.”

  “I like kale.”

  “Why?”

  She laughed. “No good reason. There’s a ball game on tonight. Toronto at Houston. Wanna watch?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Good. You can set the table.”

  He got out plates, laid them with the scent of cooking, of her, filling the air. He decided it wasn’t pushing just to ask. “Is that sexy underwear still in your dresser?”

  “It is.”

  “Okay.” He glanced at her while he opened a drawer for flatware. “You need to pick a date this summer. I’ll give you the Yankee schedule, and you can pick whichever game works for you. I can get Brad to send the plane. We could take a couple of days, stay at the Palace or the Waldorf.”

  She checked the potatoes she had roasting with rosemary in the oven. “Private planes, fancy hotels.”

  “I’ve still got my box-seat season tickets.”

  “Box seats, too. Just how rich are you, Cooper?”

  “Really.”

  “Maybe I should hit you up for another donation.”

  “I’ll give you five thousand to throw away the red number in the drawer upstairs.”

  “Bribery. I’ll consider it.”

  “New York and the Yankees were the first bribe. You missed it.”

  She’d missed this, too, she realized. Just poking at each other. “How much to toss them all?”

  “Name your price.”

  “Hmm. Could be steep. I want to build a dorm for the interns.”

  He turned back, head angled. “That’s a good idea. Keep them on the property. They have more time here, probably more interaction with one another and the staff. And you’d have a number of people on-site at all times.”

  “The last part wasn’t a consideration until recently. Which I just don’t want to talk about right now. Housing and transportation aren’t huge problems, but they always take some work. I want to build a six-room dorm, with kitchen facilities and a community room. We’d have room for a dozen interns. Fork over enough and I’ll name it after you.”

  “Bribery. I’ll consider it.”

  She grinned at him. “How does it feel? To be loaded?”

  “Better than it did to be broke. I grew up with money, so I never thought about it. Part of my mistake when I hit college. I never had to worry where a meal was coming from or how I’d pay for shoes, that kind of thing. I blew through my savings and then some.”

  “You were just a boy.”

  “You were just a girl and you made a budget, and lived by it. I remember.”

  “I didn’t grow up rich. You spent plenty on me, too, back then. I let you.”

  “In any case it was a come-to-Jesus when I got in a hole, which I compounded by going against my father and dropping out of college, wanting to be a cop. Still, I figured I could do it.”

  He shrugged and sipped as if it didn’t matter. But she knew it did.

  “I’d have the first chunk from the trust coming along so I could live thin for a while. I didn’t know what thin was. But I found out.”

  “You must’ve been scared.”

  “Sometimes. I felt defeated and pissed off. But I was doing what I needed to do, and I was pretty good at it. Getting good at it. When he blocked the trust payment and froze my accounts, what there was of them, it turned desperate. I had the job, so it wasn’t like I’d be on the street, but thin got thinner. I needed a lawyer, a good one, and a good one wants a good retainer. I had to borrow the money for that. Brad lent it to me.”

  “I knew I liked him.”