by Gerri Hill
“Clarice, huh? Nice.”
Reese got to her feet easily, then offered her hand to help Morgan up. “My older brother started calling me Reese first. My mother gave up on me being her little ballerina when I was twelve.”
Morgan took her hand and stood, holding it for a second as she regained her balance. “Just the one brother?”
“No. I have a younger brother too.” Reese pushed off. “Is this where you start asking about family and such?”
Morgan followed, pushing her skis into the rut that Reese had created. “Isn’t that what you do when you meet someone new? Isn’t that how you get to know them?”
“Do you want to get to know me?”
“Hey, you’re the one who started this.”
Reese stopped. “It’s really pretty up here. What trail is this again?”
“Cutter’s Ridge. Up at the point of the ridge, there’s a trail that goes down the mountain to a stream. It’s very steep and I’ve never tried it. It’s got some deep pools in it that seldom get fished. Ed Wade says the biggest cutthroat trout he’s ever caught came from there.”
“He’s the fishing guide?”
“Yeah. He’s born and raised around here. I’d guess he knows every stream, creek and river in the county.”
“I’ve heard his name. But I don’t fish.”
Like a shadow crossing the sun, Reese’s expression changed from friendly to distant again. Just like that. She pushed on, following Reese up the trail—laboring was more like it.
Despite the colder temperatures up this high, she could feel the perspiration on her skin from their excursion. And excursion it was as she was too involved with staying upright to enjoy the pristine freshness of the snow. She finally stopped, her breath again coming fast, frosting around her.
“Break?”
Morgan nodded. “Have I mentioned I hate cross-country skiing?”
“A couple of times, yeah.”
Morgan studied her, wondering at the serious look on her face. “Where are you from?”
“Winter Park.”
Morgan shook her head. “No. You know, where’s your family? Your brothers.” She saw Reese sigh, saw her look away. So, not a favorite subject, obviously.
“I’m from the Vegas area,” she finally answered. “Stayed there after college. I was a cop on the streets for nearly ten years.”
“Tired of the desert, huh?”
“Tired of the heat, the drugs, the crime, yeah, tired of the desert.”
“Do you get back much? I mean, is your family still there?”
Reese gave a half-smile. “Full of questions today, Zula?”
Morgan refused to be baited. “Just making conversation, that’s all.” She pushed off with her poles, skiing closer. “Besides, the whole town is curious about you. Maybe I’m fishing for information.”
Reese laughed. “I can assure you, other than the mayor’s wife and that whole ordeal, there aren’t any lurid secrets in my closet.”
Morgan stared at her. “I don’t believe you.” Then she smiled.
“But you can keep your secrets for now.” She skied past her, thankful the trail took a downward turn. Of course, for every down slope there was another climb. She could already feel her muscles protesting. Not that she didn’t get a fair amount of exercise during the summer. She was out on the trails often.
But the colder it got, the more she found she enjoyed her forest patrols from the comfort of her truck. And of course, once the snows came, hiking was out of the question. But she knew she would suffer tomorrow as her hamstrings and quads tightened up.
She let her momentum carry her up the next hill, then slipped into the sliding steps that propelled her up the trail. At the top, she rested, waiting on Reese to climb the hill. She took a deep breath, enjoying the fragrance of the spruce trees. There was a subtle difference in the smells between winter and summer. Maybe it was the snow that made it seem fresher in the winter, but there was a cleanness to the air that you didn’t find in summer.
“You’re better than you let on,” Reese said. “You have a natural fluid movement.”
“Which doesn’t serve me well when I fall down.”
“It’s an art to getting back up.”
“So I’ve been told.”
“Maybe you should just work on not—”
Before the rifle shot even registered with her, Reese had taken her to the ground, covering her body with her own.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“I suppose you didn’t hear the rifle shot?”
“Yes, I heard it.” Morgan tried to push her off and shifted, only to have Reese slip between her legs. Their eyes met and Morgan gasped. “What the hell is that?”
“It’s my weapon. Did you think I grew a penis overnight or something?” She rolled off her. “Stay down.”
Morgan watched as she unsnapped her boots from the skis, then slid down the trail. She shook her head, then sat up, unsnapping her own boots.
“What the hell are you doing? Are you trying to get killed? I said stay the hell down.”
“Oh, good Lord,” Morgan muttered as she stood, looking up the mountain where the shot came from. “Johnnie!” she yelled. She saw him step from behind the trees not too far up the mountain, holding his rifle steady. “Jesus Christ, Johnnie! What the hell’s the matter with you? You could have shot us.” She turned, finding Reese holding her gun, pointing it at Johnnie.
“Lower your weapon, Chief. He’s harmless.”
“I don’t think so. Him first.”
Morgan held up her hands. “Johnnie? What the hell?”
“I wasn’t trying to shoot you. If I was, you’d be dead.”
“Then what the hell?”
He walked closer, pausing to spit tobacco juice, spoiling the white snow. “Damn trespassers, that’s what. They come out here on their damn snowmobiles, their damn skis. I’m sick of it. And that no-good lady sheriff won’t even take my calls.”
Morgan smiled and turned to Reese, eyebrows raised. “Any comment?”
Reese lowered her gun. “You want to put that rifle down, sir?”
He squinted. “Who the hell are you?”
Morgan laughed. “Johnnie, this is the no-good lady sheriff, Reese Daniels.”
Johnnie studied her. “Damn, she’s pretty.”
Morgan stared at Reese, a smile playing on her lips. “Kinda, yeah. But she’s a little arrogant. Definitely moody.”
“Most women are.”
Reese stepped forward. “Excuse me, but lower your goddamn rifle.”
“Impatient too,” Morgan added.
Johnnie finally slung his rifle over his shoulder and offered his hand. “I’m Johnnie Cutter.”
“Ah. Cutter’s Ridge.”
He nodded. “This trail skirts the ridge. My property is on up the mountain and down the other side. And as I was saying, those damn tourists think they own the whole goddamn mountain. And I want some action.”
“Have you posted signs?”
Johnnie snorted. “Tell her, Morgan.”
“They come up the canyon from the trail on snowmobiles. At the top of the canyon is an avalanche chute. It’s got deep snow at an awesome angle,” she said. “It’s like skiing a black diamond.”
“And it’s on my property.”
“I see.” Reese looked at Morgan. “And what does the Forest Service plan to do about it?”
Morgan shrugged. “We’ve put up signs, danger warnings, avalanche warnings. Nothing deters them. And as you know, it’s just me and Charlie this time of year.”
“And so you want my staff to do something? Googan?” She laughed. “Although it would be fun seeing him give chase on a snowmobile.”
“I’ve asked Rick Patterson to post signs at his place, but he says that’s what most of the thrill riders come up here for. Cutter’s Chute.”
“Well, we’ll have to work on a plan then.” She turned to Johnnie. “And, Mr. Cutter, if I hear of you firing your rifle
at tourists, I’ll have your ass in jail so fast you won’t know what hit you.” She smiled. “Clear?”
He scratched his stubbly beard then spit tobacco juice into the snow again. “I just think I have a right to—”
“Spare me the trespassing bullshit. My guess is that Cutter’s Chute is nowhere near your house, but it just pisses you off that tourists dare leave the forest and go on private land. We’ll do what we can to stop them, but obviously we can’t post a sentry here to guard it. But I’ll file attempted murder charges on you right now for shooting at us if you don’t mind my words.”
“Attempted murder? Morgan, tell her. Hell, I learned how to handle a gun when I was eight years old. There ain’t no attempted murder here.”
Reese pointed her finger at him. “No more shooting at the tourists.”
Morgan stepped forward. “Johnnie, we’ll work out something. Might not be until summer. Maybe we can put up a fence or something down in the canyon to cut off their route. How’s that?”
“Summer ain’t going to help me this winter now, is it?”
“I’ll take a snowmobile out myself. I’ll see what I can do,” Morgan promised. “But, Johnnie, you can’t go trying to scare people off with your rifle.”
“Man’s got a right to protect his property.”
Morgan smiled and squeezed his arm. “I know, Johnnie. But you’ve got to stop worrying about it so much. People are gonna do what they’re going to do.”
He nodded. “Yeah, they do, don’t they?” He turned to Reese.
“Nice to meet you. Maybe you’ll take my calls now instead of having that nosy Eloise put me off. It’s not like I call for the fun of it, you know. Hell, I’ve got to hike a half-mile up the ridge just to get a signal on that fancy cell phone I got. The least you could do is take my call.”
“Of course.”
He gave them both a curt nod and disappeared back into the forest. Morgan grabbed Reese’s arm as she turned.
“He doesn’t do it just because he’s an ornery old man. His grandson died on Cutter’s Chute about ten years ago. His only grandchild. So whining about the tourists is just an excuse. He doesn’t want anyone else to lose their life to it.”
“I see. Is it that dangerous?”
“If you don’t know what you’re doing, yeah. I’d say since I’ve been here, five or six have flipped their machines flying down the chute. Broken legs, broken back. Had one we had to airlift out by helicopter.”
Reese watched her. “You been out on it?”
Morgan shook her head. “No. I mean, I love to ride fast, but I’m not that skilled.” She grinned. “Or that crazy.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“Old Johnnie shot at you?” Charlie laughed. “I bet finding out she was the sheriff ’bout made him swallow his tobacco.”
“Especially when Reese threatened to haul him in for attempted murder.”
Charlie watched her. “Reese, huh?”
Morgan shrugged. “That’s her name. I’m not going to go around calling her ‘Chief.’”
“So, you like her okay? You didn’t push her off the mountain?”
Morgan laughed. “I came close. But yeah, she lightened up some. But she’s still going to need some work.”
“Well, good. Maybe you can—”
“No, Charlie. Not you too.” She leaned across his desk and met his eyes. “Do not try to play matchmaker.”
“No, I don’t think you’d go together. You’re too independent, too strong-willed. I think you would clash with her seeing as how I’d describe her the same way.”
“Uh-huh.” Morgan straightened up. She didn’t believe him for a second. “Don’t you dare repeat this, but it was actually kinda fun.”
“Maybe the only reason you hate skiing is because you’ve never had a good partner before.”
“Trust me, that ain’t it.” She sighed. “I’m calling it a day. I think I’ll go over to Sloan’s for a beer. Want to come?”
“I may come over later. I just got started on the damn budget for next season. They want to cut our funding again and I’ve got to prove why we need it.” He shook his head. “Damn politicians stick money in all these useless projects and leave us hanging out to dry. What do they think? That three people can manage a million acres of forest land?”
“Oh, we’ll manage, Charlie, we always do.”
“Yeah, well once you get your truck back, you better hope it doesn’t die on you because I’m not budgeting for repairs.”
“Right.” She smiled on her way out. He said that every year.
In fact, sure as she’d bitch about winter, he’d bitch about the upcoming budget. Same thing every year from both of them. It dawned on her then that this would be the last time they’d have that particular conversation. Charlie’s last season. It wouldn’t be the same around here, that’s for sure. Her only hope was that they wouldn’t bring in someone so opposite of Charlie that she couldn’t stand to work for them. After seven years—eight by that time—this was home. She’d hate to request a transfer this late in her career. She’d been working for the Service fourteen years. Sixteen more and she’d be eligible to retire. Not that her retirement could sustain her, but at least she’d have a nice nest egg, something to fall back on if she wanted to start something new, or maybe just go to part-time.
Thirty-five and thinking about retirement. How sad.
§
Reese was going to skip her usual meal at Sloan’s. She was tired from skiing and wanted nothing more than to soak in a tub of hot water and relax. Unfortunately, her culinary skills were nonexistent. And she knew for a fact there was nothing in her pantry or fridge. She had the last piece of stale bread for her breakfast toast that morning.
So she pulled in front of Sloan’s Bar, pleased to see Morgan’s rented Jeep parked nearby. All in all, their outing had been pleasant, if you didn’t mind a rifle being shot over your head.
Which normally she did, she thought with a smile. If Morgan was alone at the bar, she might just opt to sit up there by her instead of by herself at a booth. It’d give them another opportunity to get to know each other.
She slammed her truck door, knowing that was just an excuse.
Truth was, she was a little intrigued by Morgan. The woman was full of questions but had divulged little about her own life. There had to be a reason she stayed in Lake City. And as far as she could tell, Morgan was very single, so it wasn’t a woman who kept her here. Because frankly, she couldn’t imagine anyone staying in this tiny town willingly. No, when her year was up, she’d be gone the next day.
Morgan was where she thought she’d be—sitting at the bar chatting with Tracy. She walked over casually, ignoring the stares of the other patrons. Those who knew her routine knew she never went to the bar.
“Evening, ladies,” she said as she sat on the high-backed barstool beside Morgan.
Morgan smiled easily at her. “You’re able to walk?”
Reese laughed. “So far. Tomorrow might be another story.”
“Excuse me, Chief Daniels, but did you want your usual?”
“Tracy, you know it’s okay to call me Reese.” She glanced at Morgan, noting her amused expression at Tracy’s formality.
Then again, Tracy was probably in shock that Reese could speak in complete sentences. “And Eloise tells me I need to try the double battered chicken. What do you think?”
“Oh, yes, ma’am, it’s delicious. Comes with a side salad and some steak fries.”
“Sounds great. And I’ll have a beer while I’m waiting.” She turned in her barstool and met Morgan’s eyes, giving her a subtle wink as Tracy hurried to fill a mug.
“A month of burgers is enough for you?”
Reese shrugged. “When you don’t cook, it’s hard to be choosy. Especially in this town.”
“I’ve found that when people say they don’t cook, it means they don’t like to cook, not that they can’t.”
Reese nodded at Tracy who disappeared after sliding a b
eer in front of her. “I suppose you cook?”
Morgan laughed. “Not really, no. I mean, I wouldn’t starve to death or anything. Actually, I know how to cook. I just hate doing it.”
Reese sipped from her beer, watching Morgan do the same.
“Why are you here?”
Morgan raised her eyebrows. “Here?”
“In Lake City,” she clarified. “I mean, you asked me that question once.”
“Oh, I see. You view it as being stuck here. And I guess maybe that first winter, I did too. I was supposed to be assigned to Gunnison and Blue Mesa. But on the very day I got there, they said I’d been transferred. And when I saw this town and realized how remote it would be, especially during the winter, I panicked. I was going to transfer out the next season.”
“Yet here you are.”
“Yeah. I fell in love with the place, the people. So I thought, well, I’ll do another year, then transfer out.” She laughed. “Seven years ago.”
“Don’t you miss having a relationship?”
“You mean sex? Don’t I miss having sex?”
Reese smiled. “Yeah.”
“Of course. Why do you think I let Moaning Mona come home with me?”
Reese coughed and nearly spit her beer out. “Moaning Mona?”
“Sorry.”
Reese shook her head. “I don’t want to know.”
“But I told you she was a biter, right?”
“No. Again, I don’t want to know.”
Morgan laughed. “You see, this is why it’s nice to have another lesbian in town. I can’t talk about my sex life—or lack of—with the girls. Tracy wants to lecture me about settling down and Tina just wants more details.”
“So we’re really the only two around, huh?”
“No. Actually, there’s a couple that live up the mountain, past Charlie’s place. But they’re either very closeted or they live like hermits intentionally. They’re pretty self-sufficient, from what I hear. They have a big greenhouse to grow vegetables and they have solar panels for their power. They come into town some during the summer, but winter, no, we don’t see them until spring thaw.”
“How long have they been here?”