That Woman in Wyoming

by Sherry Lewis

  “Don’t think about the money,” he suggested. “Make it a matter of pride.”

  “Well, my pride doesn’t want me walking around in the middle of nowhere looking like the creature from the black lagoon.” Donovan found a dry spot to leave his pack and tried to kick off a clump of mud that was hanging from his boot. “Seriously, Max. How much longer are we going to chase this guy?”

  “Until we find him.” According to people they’d talked with in Thayne, there were a number of summer cabins in the high country, and they suspected that Travis might be making for those.

  “Why don’t we go back down the mountain,” Donovan suggested. “We could get warm and dry, catch the Lakers game on TV, and wait for Carmichael to resurface. Or we could ask the local authorities for help.”

  “Is that what you’d do if he was Holly’s brother?”

  Donovan tried scraping the mud off on the trunk of a young tree. “Hell, no. I wouldn’t want to risk some hotdog getting excited and taking a shot at him. I’d probably do exactly what you’re doing—go after him myself. But I look at it this way. If we were chasing Holly’s brother, you’d be complaining. So, I figure it’s pretty much my duty to gripe now.”

  Max laughed and stopped walking to wait for his friend. “You’re a good friend, Donovan. Thanks.”

  “For nothing.” Donovan checked the bottom of his boot and scowled darkly. “What’s in this dirt, anyway? Superglue?”

  A chilled gust of wind whipped past them, tousling Max’s hair and stinging his ears. Even after they made camp, there’d be little relief. They’d spent two nights sleeping on the hard ground, cooking over an open fire—if emptying a can of stew into the one cheap pan they’d bought at the supply store could be counted as cooking—washing up with melted snow, and choking down coffee that tasted like tar, and that was the best thing about it. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so wretched.

  Now, watching Donovan, he wondered if he was letting his personal feelings take over too much. “Let me ask you a question,” he said as Donovan began digging away chunks of mud with a broken twig. “How far would you really go if this was Holly’s brother?”

  “The truth?”

  “If you don’t mind.”

  “At least this far. I’d push up to the cabins and either find him or discover he wasn’t there, and then I’d decide what to do next.”

  “You don’t have to come with me, you know. You have the luxury of deciding. I’m skating on such thin ice, I can’t go back without him.”

  Donovan’s twig snapped. He swore and tossed it aside. “If the ice is that thin, are you sure she’s the right woman for you? You haven’t even known her two weeks yet, man. And those weren’t good weeks, either.”

  “The relationship was perfect until her brother showed up.”

  “Perfect? How perfect can it be when one partner doesn’t know who the other is or what they do?” Donovan gave up on the mud and closed some of the distance between them. “I’m not being funny, and I’m not just trying to be obnoxious, either. It’s a legitimate question.”

  “I’ve asked myself the same thing,” Max admitted. He found a fallen log and tested his weight on it before sitting. The chill immediately shot through his jeans. “The only answer I have is that everything else was true. How I felt, what I shared about myself, who I really am inside—all that was true. And that’s the man she fell in love with. At least, I hope it was.”

  Donovan lit a cigarette and studied the sky. “I hope so. I know I’ve joked around about you settling down, but I don’t want to see you rush into something you’ll regret. For some reason I like your sorry butt, and I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

  “That makes two of us.”

  “So, assuming she did fall in love with the real Max Gardner, what are you going to do about it?”

  “That’s the million-dollar question. We’re going to have to work something out—a compromise.”

  Donovan scowled at the clouds gathering overhead. “If I understand you right, she doesn’t want to leave Serenity and she hates what you do for a living, which means in order to be with her, you’d have to give up your condo, move here and change careers.” He lowered his gaze and looked Max in the eye. “Where’s the compromise in that?”

  Max jerked to his feet and put some distance between them. “You don’t get it, Donovan. You haven’t even met her. It’s not like that.”

  “Okay, explain it to me.”

  Max opened his mouth, but nothing would come out. The trouble was, Donovan had nailed the problem squarely. Max wasn’t sure he liked the sound of it any better than Donovan did. But that was the old Max talking, he convinced himself. The one who’d find any excuse to avoid a commitment.

  “Look,” he said patiently, “I’ve spent my entire adult lifetime alone—and I’ll be alone forever if I don’t learn how to give a little.”

  Donovan tossed his cigarette to the ground, crushed it out with the toe of his boot and scooped snow over it for good measure. “Just don’t give up who and what you are, thinking it’ll make her happy. It won’t.”

  “Giving her up won’t make me happy.” Max shifted his pack on his back and glared at his friend. “I’m not giving up.”

  Donovan moved onto the trail beside him and gave him another long look. “She means that much to you?”

  “She does.”

  “Hmm. Imagine that.” Shaking his head in wonder, Donovan started walking again. Max was left to wonder what exactly his friend was implying. He’d have to confront Donovan later, he realized as the wind gusted again. Right now, they needed to find shelter before this storm hit.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  REAGAN SPRAYED THE TOP of her television with furniture polish and began to work it into the wood with a rag. In the two days since she’d heard from Max, she’d not only clipped every coupon she could find, but sorted them, reorganized the silverware drawer and vacuumed every inch of carpeting in the house. She’d washed every stitch of dirty laundry, worked through her stack of mending and replaced missing buttons on things she’d almost forgotten they owned. She’d dusted the books on her shelves and every figurine in her house, swept all the corners for cobwebs, and still spent more time than she would have believed possible watching the television for news bulletins.

  And there was still no word from Max.

  Thankfully, she hadn’t used her vacation days so she’d had no problem taking the time off. Her concentration was at an all-time low, and she’d have been more trouble than she was worth at the office. Most important, she didn’t want to leave the telephone. She even carried the cordless into the bathroom with her when the need arose.

  Her dad had called last night to tell her he’d made it to Denver. He’d missed the commuter flight to Jackson and, with the storm hovering over the mountains, couldn’t get another until tomorrow. In spite of Reagan’s eagerness to see him, she’d urged him to stay where he was. She didn’t want him to rent a car and drive in the storm. She trusted Max to find shelter somewhere; but what would Travis do?

  She finished the television and moved on to one of the end tables flanking her couch. The girls would be home from school soon. Having them around didn’t completely take her mind off Max and Travis, but they did help distract her a little.

  Thinking of the girls made her slow the circular motions of her hands. Danielle had been anxious to talk about anything and everything last night, probably to keep herself from worrying. But Jamie still wasn’t herself. Something was bothering her, but she resisted every effort Reagan made to talk about it.

  She started polishing again, putting all her frustrations into her arms and hands. Admittedly, she’d been so worried about Travis and so busy falling in love with Max, she hadn’t discussed the climbing lessons with Jamie. And she had put off making a final decision longer than she should have. She really did owe Jamie better than she’d been giving lately.

  Gathering the polish and rag, she moved to the other tabl
e. As she sprayed the wood surface, the kitchen door opened and banged shut again.

  “Mom?”

  “In the living room,” Reagan called back. She smiled at Danielle when she entered the room. “Where’s Jamie?”

  “I thought she was home already.” Danielle dropped onto the couch. “She wasn’t at her locker after school so I thought maybe she got sick or something and you came to get her.”

  “I didn’t leave the house. How long did you wait for her?”

  “Twenty minutes.” Danielle picked up Baby and buried her face in the fur at his neck. “Maybe longer. I looked for her on the way home, but I didn’t see her.”

  “She’s probably with one of her friends.”

  “I don’t think so. I saw Nikki and Heather walking home. Jamie wasn’t with them.”

  “What about Angela? Did you see her?”

  “Uh-uh.” Danielle lowered Baby to the couch. “Do you want me to call her and see if Jamie’s there?”

  “Sure.” Reagan gave the cat an absent scratch. “If Angela doesn’t know where she is, I’ll call the school. Maybe Jamie had to stay after for one of her classes.”

  Danielle disappeared into the kitchen and came back a minute later. “She’s not at Angela’s.”

  Reagan moved Baby to the floor and picked up her dust rag and can of polish. “I wish she’d called to let me know she was going to be late. She’s been acting so different lately.”

  “Mom?”

  The tone of Danielle’s voice made Reagan turn around. “What, honey?”

  “Angela said she hasn’t seen Jamie since before lunch.”

  A nervous knot formed in Reagan’s stomach, but she tried to tell herself she was reacting to everything else, not to Jamie being late. “Is that unusual?”

  “Yeah. They have their last two classes together. Jamie wasn’t in either one.”

  “Is Angela sure about that?”

  “They sit right next to each other.”

  “You mean Jamie’s been gone for over two hours?”

  “Or three.”

  Reagan’s hands began to shake. “Does Angela have any idea where she is?”

  “No. You know Jamie. She didn’t say anything, but Angela said she was acting weird all day. Kind of nervous and edgy.”

  Reagan tried desperately to stay calm and process what Danielle was telling her. She thought about how drawn and tired Jamie had looked at breakfast. She should have taken time to talk with her then.

  Dread settled in her heart, but she couldn’t let herself lapse into self-blame and self-pity. She put an arm around Danielle’s shoulders. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. Maybe Angela was mistaken about her being out of class, or maybe she had a practice that Angela didn’t know about.”

  “If she’d had practice, Stefani would have, too,” Danielle reminded her. “And Stefani didn’t.”

  “I’ll call the school,” Reagan said firmly, as if by sheer force of will she could make Jamie be there.

  She dialed and waited impatiently while the phone rang. After what felt like forever, a woman answered. “Serenity Junior High School. May I help you?”

  “I hope so.” Reagan fought to remain calm. “I’m looking for my daughter. She hasn’t come home from school and I’m wondering if she might be at basketball practice, or if one of her teachers had her stay later than usual.”

  “I can check for you, but I know there’s not a practice. I just saw the coach leaving a few minutes ago.”

  Reagan clutched the phone so tightly her fingers numbed. “Her name is Jamie McKenna. She’s in the seventh grade. If you could check with her teachers, I’d appreciate it.”

  “Sure. Hang on and I’ll see what I can find out.”

  Reagan forced herself to smile at Danielle, who was leaning across the kitchen counter, her eyes dark with worry. “She’s looking.”

  “Jamie’s not there, Mom.”

  “She might be.” Reagan heard the sharpness in her voice and tried to soften it. “She might be, Danielle. Let’s not panic until we’ve checked everywhere.”

  Danielle rested her head on her arms. “What if she’s not there?”

  Reagan couldn’t bear the thought. “I’ll figure that out if it comes to it,” she said uneasily, and turned away to compose herself. She paced as far as the cord would stretch and doubled back again several times before the school secretary returned.

  “Mrs. McKenna?”

  “Yes. Did you find her?”

  “No. I’m sorry. I paged her over the loudspeaker, but I didn’t get a response.”

  “Is there any way you could tell me whether or not she was in her last two classes?”

  “I’m afraid not. I don’t have that information.”

  “Can you please check? One of her friends thinks she may have missed her afternoon classes.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t, Mrs. McKenna. I don’t have that information and I don’t know where to get it. Most of the teachers have already left the building, and the principal has gone for the day. If your daughter missed any classes, you should receive a call from the computerized system sometime tonight.”

  “I can’t wait that long,” Reagan snapped. She tried again to pull herself under control. “I need to know now. Please.”

  Her panic must have been evident because the secretary’s tone changed. “I can’t make any promises, of course, but I’ll see what I can do. If I can find out anything, I’ll call you back.”

  “Thank you.” Reagan barely got the words out around the growing lump in her throat, and struggled to give the secretary her number. This couldn’t be happening.

  She disconnected and watched almost as if in a dream as her trembling hand replaced the receiver. “Grab some paper and a pen,” she said to Danielle. “I need all of her friends’ numbers and the names of everyone on her team. Jamie has to be somewhere, and I’m going to find out where.”

  The sudden need to have Max beside her came out of nowhere. But he was putting out another fire for her. She was on her own.

  BY THE TIME Max and Donovan reached the first cabin in the small cluster, they didn’t wonder any longer whether Travis had come this way. His footprints sank into the knee-deep snow, giving them a clear trail to follow.

  Thankfully, the storm had held off so far, but the wind was rising steadily and the temperature was dropping just as quickly. Max hoped Travis had taken shelter here. He wanted to get this over with quickly and get back down the mountain before the storm hit.

  Donovan signaled him forward, and Max stayed in the cover of the forest as he followed Travis’s trail past the first two cabins. Just before the third cabin, the footprints veered sharply off the path toward a two-story log house set back from the road, almost hidden in a thick stand of spruce, aspen and pine.

  A wooden sign hung from a low branch proclaiming it the Robbers’ Roost. Obviously, Travis hadn’t lost his sense of humor.

  Max motioned for Donovan to join him and checked the perimeter of the cabin to make sure Travis hadn’t slipped past this one to another. The footprints seemed to stop, and a flash of white fabric billowing from a window near the front door showed up against the lead-colored sky. Max could make out bits of fabric clinging to the broken shards of glass.

  “He’s in there,” he said when Donovan came up behind him.

  “Sure looks like it.” Donovan pulled his weapon from his holster and checked the barrel. “How do you want to handle it?”

  “I’m going in after him. Alone.”

  Donovan scowled at him. “Don’t be a fool.”

  “I promised Reagan that I’d bring him back in one piece.”

  “And you will. I’m not going to shoot unless he opens fire first.”

  “You can come in if he starts shooting. I’ve got to try to get through to him first. Maybe it’s a fool’s mission,” he said before Donovan could argue, “but with any luck at all, Travis will be my brother-in-law. I’ve been asking myself for hours what I’d do if he were my own broth
er, and I know damn well I’d go in alone. I can’t do less for Reagan’s brother.”

  Donovan looked as if he’d like to throttle Max. “I’ll be watching. And listening. Let’s hope he’s smart enough not to make any mistakes.” Leaving his pack on a patch of dry ground, Donovan slipped into the trees to find the best vantage point to watch the cabin.

  Max settled his pack beside Donovan’s and ducked into the trees in the opposite direction. The snow made his approach slow and difficult, but he was in no real hurry. Finally he reached the edge of the clearing and stopped again to check the house, but the only things moving were the curtains in the windows. Either Travis didn’t know he was out here, or he was watching and waiting to see what Max would do. At the last minute, he pulled his weapon, praying he wouldn’t need it.

  He tore across the clearing, ducking to make himself a smaller target. On the porch, he pressed against the wall and gave himself a minute to catch his breath while he listened.

  Then, keeping to one side of the door, Max tried the knob but the door was locked. He inched toward the window and peered in, but he couldn’t see a damn thing. Knowing that Donovan would be chomping at the bit by now, he took a deep breath and let it out slowly, steeling himself.

  His heart hammered in his chest; adrenaline made his nerves jump and heightened all his senses. He’d felt it all before, but today he was acutely aware of the possibility for disaster.

  Holding his gun in both hands, he trained it on the ground between his feet and shouted, “Travis!”

  A loud thunk from somewhere inside convinced him he’d surprised the kid.

  “Come on, Travis. I know you’re in there.” The muffled sound of scrambling feet on hardwood floors reached him through the broken window. “You know why I’m here. Come out and let’s do this the easy way.”

  “I know why you’re here,” Travis shouted back. “But I’m not coming out. You’re not going to put me in jail.”