On the Run

by Iris Johansen

  She shook her head positively. “If Mom saw them she would have named them. She says every horse has to have a name. If they have their own soul, they have to have a name.”

  “Well, if she’s named them, she hasn’t told me.” He smiled. “And she wouldn’t like me talking about them to you. As I said, they’re not the kind of horses she’d want you associating with. Definitely from the wrong side of the tracks.”

  “She doesn’t let me ride some of her horses, but she doesn’t mind me looking at them and talking to them. She says it’s important to make friends with horses.” She gave Gypsy a final pat. “Like she does. Mom always works and works until the horses love her.”

  “I’ve seen her make friends with animals. She’s pretty special.”

  Frankie nodded and then turned to look at him. “She’s my best friend. I don’t need any of those kids at school.”

  “I can see how you’d feel like that. I admire her very much.”

  “But she’s mad at you. She’s better than she was the night Charlie died, but she still acts funny around you.”

  “I did some stupid things a long time ago. I’ve been trying to make it right, but it may take time. I’m glad you think she’s not as mad at me as before.”

  She nodded. “Don’t feel bad. I don’t think Mom would have let you bring us here if she really didn’t like you.”

  “That’s comforting.” He paused. “And do you like me a little, Frankie?”

  She smiled. “Sure.” She opened the stall door. “You’re kinda different. I think maybe you’re like Trigger. You know all the tricks, but you don’t show off until someone signals. ’Til then, you just stand around and look pretty.”

  “Pretty?” He started to laugh. “Good Lord, no one ever called me pretty before.”

  “Well, something like that.” Her grin widened. “But it’s true. You’re always walking around giving orders. What are you doing just standing around talking to me?”

  “Enjoying myself. But maybe if you signal, I’ll start pawing my foot.”

  She chuckled with delight. “Would you? I’d like to see that. Do it.”

  He pawed the floor with his left foot. “Dear God, how the mighty have fallen. But I refuse to neigh on command.”

  “Then you’re not Trigger.”

  “No.” His smile faded. “But I could be a better friend to you than Trigger. Maybe not as good as your mother, but I’d like to try.”

  “Why?”

  “You’re tough. Couldn’t you just accept me on face value?” He studied her face. “No, I guess you couldn’t. You’re too much like your mom.” He paused. “I like you. I’ve never been around kids much. These days are like a gift to me. Okay?”

  “Maybe.” She lowered her lashes, but he could see a glint of mischief. “I don’t have a lot of time. There’s the music.”

  “I wouldn’t interfere with the music.”

  “And I have my chores.” She said slyly, “Of course, if you’d shovel the manure for me like you did at Charlie’s place, it would give me— Ouch.” He’d swatted her on the rump and she broke into giggles. “Well, you didn’t seem to have anything else to do.”

  “Brat.” He took her by the hand and pulled her out of the stall. “You should be honored I’d make time for you in my busy schedule. And contrary to your judgment of my character, I don’t have to wait for a signal to do tricks. I’m a veritable circus jester, a miracle man.”

  She was staring at him with an expression that was suddenly grave. “I heard the doctor say that it was a miracle Donavan was alive. You brought him here and he’s going to be fine. That’s almost a miracle.”

  “I was joking, Frankie.”

  She nodded. “Yeah.” A smile lit her face. “But maybe I’ll help you shovel the manure.”

  You have to understand I’m taking a big chance.” Carter Nevins looked nervously around the bar. He’d chosen to meet Hanley at this bar on the outskirts of Fredericksburg because it was frequented by blue-collar workers and not anyone from Langley. But you could never tell who might wander into any watering place. Yet at first glimpse of Hanley, he’d known it was better than meeting him at a deserted location. Brett Hanley was tall, muscular, with black hair and brown eyes, and his suit probably cost more than Nevins made in a year. He’d smiled a lot in the first five minutes after he sat down at the table, but he wasn’t smiling now. Screw him. Nevins had something Hanley wanted, and the bastard was going to pay through the nose. “I could lose my job. You’ve got to make it worth my while.”

  “I’m sure Kersoff paid you less than I’m offering you.” Hanley’s tone was silky. “You mustn’t be greedy, Nevins.”

  “All I had to do was bypass a password lock and access computer records to find Grace Archer. There aren’t any records about her location now. And I don’t think North knows either. That makes it a different ball game.”

  “Then how do you intend to find out where Kilmer and Archer are?”

  “I have a contact.”

  “Who?”

  Did this Neanderthal think he was an idiot? “Someone who’s been in touch with them since they left Tallanville. But I have to have enough money to make it worth his while.”

  “How much?”

  “Five hundred thousand.” Hanley didn’t blink, and Nevins cursed under his breath. He should have asked for more. “For him. The same for me.”

  “You’re crazy.”

  “If he doesn’t come through, I have another way to find Archer. I just have to have one little kernel of information and I’ll be home free.”

  “How?”

  Nevins smiled. “The magic of computers. It makes a small man a giant. I’m a giant, Hanley. Hear me roar.”

  Hanley gave him a cold glance. “You’re a punk and a nerd. You’re holding a weak hand and you’re trying to bluff. I hate bluffers.”

  Nevins felt a chill. He’d better not push him. “I’ll take two hundred thousand now and the rest when I give you the information you need. And you’re the one who’s bluffing. If you had a better source to tap, you wouldn’t be here.”

  Hanley gazed at him for a long moment. “How long?”

  Nevins tried not to let him see his relief. “Two weeks?”

  “I have five days. Get it for me in five days.”

  “That’s not much time.”

  Hanley smiled without mirth. “I know. Five days.” He got up from the table. “There will be two hundred thousand dollars deposited in your bank account tomorrow. If you don’t come through for me, I’ll be very displeased. And my employer will be even more irate. You really don’t want to make him irate, Nevins.” He turned and walked out of the bar.

  Nevins drew a deep breath. Christ, he was shaking. What was he getting himself into? Kersoff had been tough, but he had an idea that Hanley was big-league poison. It would be okay. So he had been bluffing a little. He didn’t have Stolz in his pocket yet. Stolz had been very nosy, and he had an idea that Nevins was stalking him. Maybe money could swing him. Money could do anything. But now that Nevins had found out he could get more money from Hanley, he wanted it all for himself.

  And plan B was a definite possible. He was smart, and he knew the way to access the mysteries of the universe. Or at least his universe.

  But he’d better get back to Langley and put in some long and productive hours at his computer tonight. Hanley hadn’t believed him when he’d told him that he was a giant. Well, it was true. He’d make it true.

  Hear me roar, Hanley.

  They were riding together again. It was the third morning in a row.

  Grace watched Frankie and Kilmer take off across the field toward the foothills. Frankie was laughing and talking to Kilmer, and he was listening to her with that quiet intentness so characteristic of him.

  Isolation.

  Grace shook her head and tried to lose that sudden sweeping, empty feeling. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t given permission for Kilmer to spend time with Frankie. And it was to be expect
ed that Frankie would grow to like Kilmer more every time she was with him. At twenty-three Grace had been dazzled by Kilmer herself.

  But she had seen him in hero mode, a leader of men, smart and savvy. Frankie was seeing him without the bells and whistles. She liked the man, not the larger-than-life warrior, and the intimacy growing between them was more powerful for being stripped to the basics.

  “They look good together, don’t they?” She turned to see Donavan being wheeled out onto the porch by Dr. Krallon. “When are you going to tell her?”

  “Shut up, Donavan.” She turned to the doctor. “Are you sure he shouldn’t be back in bed? Preferably with adhesive over his mouth?”

  The doctor shook his head. “Too late. He’s well on the mend.” He paused. “That’s why I’m going to be leaving tonight. He no longer needs me. Mr. Kilmer’s assigning someone else to help him around.”

  “I’m sure you’re relieved.”

  “Yes, as I told you he’s a very bad patient.” The doctor smiled at Donavan. “But I’m happy to see him getting well. It’s a feather in my cap that I saved his unworthy neck.”

  “It’s not unworthy,” Donavan protested. “And you should be glad that I gave you the chance to practice. You probably need it.”

  “Ingratitude.” Krallon shook his head. “I believe I’ll go inside and get another cup of coffee. Would you like one, Ms. Archer?”

  She shook her head. “And I’ll make sure Donavan is taken care of. I’m grateful to you even if he isn’t.” She watched the doctor go inside before turning to Donavan. “Is he going back to Morocco?”

  Donavan shook his head. “Too dangerous for him. Megadangerous for you and Frankie. Kilmer’s flying him to a cabin near Yellowstone until the situation cools down.”

  “Why not let him stay here?”

  “Kilmer doesn’t want to reward a favor by putting him into jeopardy. The farther away from us, the safer he is.” Donavan’s gaze shifted back to Kilmer and Frankie. “It wouldn’t hurt to tell Frankie he’s her father.”

  Grace shook her head.

  He shrugged. “It’s your call.”

  “Yes, it is.” With an effort she pulled her eyes away from her daughter and Kilmer. “I don’t mind her being friends with him, but fathers are different. Frankie’s not going to get her hopes raised that Kilmer is a permanent fixture. I won’t let him hurt her when he walks away.”

  “Did he hurt you, Grace?”

  She didn’t answer. “I didn’t expect anything from him. I’m the one who walked away.”

  “And he came after you. Not right away, but when he saw you needed him, he was there.”

  “Donavan, why are you pushing?”

  “Kilmer’s my friend. These last nine years haven’t been easy for him either. I’ve never seen him as upset as the day he found out you were pregnant. But he did what he had to do to protect the two of you, and some of the missions North forced on him were ugly. He wouldn’t have taken them if he hadn’t had to think of you.”

  “Are you trying to make me feel guilty?”

  “Hell no, I’m trying to make you see that Kilmer was caught in the same net you were and he didn’t try to cut himself free. Now give him a little slack. He deserves it.”

  “I’m giving him slack. I’m letting him have his time with Frankie. Back off, Donavan. Or I’ll push that wheelchair off the porch and watch you skid down to the corral.”

  “Ah, you’re a tough woman, Grace.” Donavan tilted his head. “Could I use the relapse ploy again?”

  “No.”

  “Then I guess I’d better close my mouth. Pity. It’s not often I choose to utter such pearls of wisdom. Will you wheel me into the house, or do you want to stay out here and enjoy your hair shirt?”

  “Donavan, I’m—” she said through her teeth. “I’m not tormenting myself. I’m doing what’s necessary. Stop talking about Frankie.”

  “Oh, I wasn’t talking about Frankie this time. I watched you last night when the good doctor brought me down to dinner. You and Kilmer. It was very familiar. I had a flashback to nine years ago. But maybe it’s a bit stronger now?”

  Jesus, had she been that obvious?

  “Hair shirt, Grace . . .” Donavan murmured. “I can see why you’d have a conflict about Frankie, but why deny yourself the fun of—”

  “That’s enough. I’ll tell the doctor to bring you in.” She turned and walked into the house.

  You ride pretty well,” Frankie told Kilmer. “I didn’t think Samson would let you on him. Does Mom know that you’re riding him?”

  “I told her.” Kilmer grimaced. “Well, I asked her. I think she thought that Samson would toss me in the dirt.”

  “But she told me that you knew about horses.”

  “What she taught me in a crash course nine years ago. I think I was a fair rider then, but I wasn’t sure it would come back to me.” He patted Samson’s neck. “I’m not like your mom. I can’t read their minds. But I know the basics, and it turned out I can ride horses that are a little skittish. Grace says they feel safe with me.”

  “Mom taught you?” Frankie kicked Gypsy and sent her galloping across the field. He galloped after her. “Why?”

  “We weren’t sure if I’d need to have a working knowledge of horses. The mission we were on might have called for it.”

  “Mission.” Frankie giggled. “That sounds important . . . and funny.”

  “I guess it does.”

  Her smile faded. “But it’s not funny. Donavan was on a mission, wasn’t he? He almost died. You could have died too. Mom was worried.”

  “Was she?”

  She nodded. “So was I. But she promised to go and get you if you got into trouble.”

  “That’s . . . interesting.”

  “That means she does like you after all, doesn’t it? And you must have been friends once if she taught you to ride.”

  “What are you getting at, Frankie?”

  “Sometimes I have to leave Mom alone. I mean, not exactly alone. I don’t mean to do it, but when the music . . . I can’t bring her with me into the music.” She bit her lower lip. “She told me she wasn’t lonely, but that was before Charlie died. I don’t want her to be lonely, Jake.”

  “And?”

  “I . . . like you. You came to help her when we were in trouble. You must like her too. I just want you to keep her from being lonely. You don’t have to be around all the time, just now and then.”

  Christ, how touching could you get? He couldn’t speak for a minute. “I like you too, Frankie. But I’m not sure your mother would want you to be talking to me about this.”

  She grinned. “Me either. She’d say it was none of my business. But she is my business. Just like I’m her business.”

  “You’re a great team.”

  She nodded. “Yeah. Look, I don’t want to make you feel bad if you don’t want to stick around, but I’ve got to look out for Mom.” She had a sudden thought. “When Mom taught you to ride, were you supposed to ride one of those white horses you told me about? The ones you said were like thunder and lightning?”

  “Yes.”

  “But it never happened. . . . I was thinking about those horses after we talked. White horses are beautiful. Did you ever hear about the Pacing White Mustang?”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  “No one knows if the Mustang is a legend or not, but it’s been seen from the Rocky Mountains to the Rio Grande. Some say it saved the life of a little girl who got lost from her family.”

  “You know a lot about famous horses, don’t you?”

  “Sure. Mom told me a lot about them and she gave me a book about them when I was six. One of my favorite stories is about Shotgun. He was just a small pony, but he went into a raging sea to pull out a lifeboat filled with stranded men. And then there was Bucephalus.”

  “What?”

  “Did I pronounce it right? He was the black stallion owned by Alexander the Great. Alexander even named a city after him. Isn’t t
hat cool?”

  “Very cool.”

  “And we don’t know the name of Paul Revere’s mare. Though some people think it was Brown Beauty. But I think she was just as much a hero as Paul Revere. After all, she’s the one who . . .”

  Blockman followed Kilmer out to the porch after dinner that night. “Stolz says Nevins may be the leak.”

  “The computer nerd?”

  Blockman nodded. “It’s possible. He said he was looking around and seeing if he could find anything definite and he’d get back to me tomorrow. But it’s not urgent, is it? There’s nothing to leak. North doesn’t know where we are.”

  “It’s urgent. Anyone looking for Grace and Frankie makes it urgent.”

  “I’m checking every night.” He changed the subject. “I saw you with Frankie this morning. Great kid, isn’t she?”

  Kilmer nodded.

  Blockman chuckled. “I take it you don’t want to elaborate.” He started down the steps. “And there’s a little too much tension in the air. I believe I’ll go down to the bunkhouse and find a game of poker. Your guys always have one going.”

  Tension? Damn right, Kilmer thought as he watched Blockman stroll across the yard. He seemed to be living with tension these days. Tension about Marvot, tension about the Pair, tension about Grace.

  Music was beginning to drift from the living room. Frankie was starting to play a sonata. Nice. She usually played in the evening if she wasn’t composing. He’d grown accustomed to sitting out here by himself and listening until she went to bed. He would have liked to watch her face when she was playing, but it was becoming difficult as hell to—

  “Frankie wants to know if she’s driving you away.”

  He turned to see Grace standing in the doorway. “What?”

  “She’s not dumb. She notices things. You always come out here right after supper. She’s wondering if she should be playing her keyboard if it bothers you.”

  “Of course she should play. I’ll talk to her tomorrow.”

  She hesitated. “You talk a lot, don’t you?”

  He smiled. “I guess I’m trying to make up for lost time. Not that that would be possible.”