by D'Ann Lindun
Montana swiveled her head to the right. Why hadn’t the horses alerted her? As nervous as they’d acted, it seemed odd that they hadn’t warned her the bear was nearby.
She watched the large brown bear amble away from them as casually as though he was out on an evening stroll. Maybe he was. Either way, he meant them no harm.
Had he torn up the camp?
Possible, not probable.
In all her life, no bear had ever bothered them there. Not at camp, not in the wilderness. Montana could see a hungry animal getting into their food, but strewing silverware and cookware around made no sense. The shredded tents, too, just didn’t add up. Maybe if the animal was rabid, but obviously it wasn’t.
The culprit had to be Tom.
She pulled her thoughts back when Johnny spoke. “That bear’s worse than the paparazzi,” he said. “Always stalking me.”
“Looks to me like he’s running away,” she said. “Not toward you.”
“That’s because he’s got his picture and he’s racing to the tabloids to sell it before the raccoons beat him to it.”
Montana laughed at the image of all the forest animals galloping to sell a picture to the news rags. “That so?”
“Yup.” He turned serious. “It’s been fantastic not having to deal with those lowlifes lurking behind every tree and bush.”
“You’ll be seeing them again soon enough.” The reminder that he had to go home the next day saddened Montana. Her heart felt like a big lump of dried up Colorado clay.
“Actually, I’m more worried about my ex than the paps.” Johnny adjusted his rifle. “If Teal managed to break in again and found me not there, no telling what she might have done.”
Montana stared at him in disbelief. “You mean to tell me she’d destroy your house?”
“That’s what I mean.”
“That’s insane.”
The dun shifted and Johnny lifted his rope-rein. “Did you think your ex would tear up your hunting camp? Or steal your horses?”
“No.”
He let that sit.
Even though she’d seen the evidence with her own eyes and picked up the mess, Montana still had a hard time believing Tom had so much animosity toward her. As a Denver Broncos fan, she couldn’t help but see him on TV and in the sports pages. Since their breakup he’d been linked to one woman after another. She couldn’t believe she mattered to him all these years later.
Maybe his actions had been a matter of opportunity for revenge more than anything else.
A mystery she planned to unravel after she got home. Right now, she had to get them to the safety of the cabin. Lifting her rope-rein, she turned Sunflower in that direction.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Montana slid from Sunflower’s back with a tired sigh.
Johnny also dismounted and strode toward the cabin to retrieve the hobbles for the horses. While she unsaddled, he returned carrying the leather straps. Without waiting, he bent and fastened them around the equines’ legs. “I hope you guys will be here in the morning.”
“Amen to that.” With a last pat, Montana turned them loose to graze. She glanced in Johnny’s direction. “As tired as they are, it’s unlikely they’ll go anywhere. I don’t know about you, but I’m done in, too.”
“Let’s go inside and I’ll build a fire.” Johnny placed his hand on her lower back. Although her nerves jumped, Montana steeled herself. If Johnny thought coming back here, where they’d made love, meant it would happen again, he was sadly mistaken.
She was sleeping alone tonight.
For all she cared, Johnny could cuddle up with the horses.
Inside the cabin, Montana lit a lantern while Johnny built a fire. With light and warmth filling the room, her exhaustion intensified. Weary beyond words, she picked up her sleeping bag and spread it on the same bunk she’d used before.
Closing her eyes for just a few minutes was a temptation too great to resist and she stretched out, too tired to take off even her coat or boots.
Within moments she slept.
~*~
When soft snores came from Montana, Johnny covered her with one of the blankets from his bedroll. He was tired, too. But the events of the day kept playing in his head.
The near-accident on the top of the cliff where Montana had nearly fallen came to mind. His balls had jumped into his throat when he saw the wind catch her and make her flap her arms like a bird about to take off from its perch. If he hadn’t gotten hold of her and dragged her back from the ledge, she would have died.
A shudder played a riff up and down his back.
As he’d held her, she’d stopped short of declaring her love for him, but her feelings had been on full display. He’d reverted to form and said something shitty without meaning to. He’d opened his mouth to take back his stupid words, but it’d been too late, the damage done.
By now he’d think he would have learned she was a different breed than he’d ever met before. When he forgot and hurt her, he instantly wanted to kick his own ass. He wanted to leave here on good terms. There was no future for him and Montana, but maybe they could be friends.
He snorted.
The altitude must have him turning delusional. He didn’t want to be friends with a woman he’d fucked. He either wanted a current lover or an ex. Not a buddy to jog with or meet at Starbucks for coffee. If he wanted to bullshit about music, sports or chicks he had buddies for that. He didn’t want to text or Skype about clothes or nail polish with a chick.
In his experience, a woman claiming they could be friends after sex always wanted more than he could give. They always ended up angry and frustrated with him. Friendships quickly soured. Better to make a clean break from the jump instead of dragging it out to something ugly.
Although he hated hurting Montana when she’d done nothing to deserve it, leaving Colorado with her angry at him would be better than her pining for things he couldn’t give.
The thought left a bad taste in his mouth and he desperately wished for vodka to wash it away. Trouble was he had none.
Maybe food would help the urge to drown his misery in booze.
He rummaged in the cupboards and found a couple cans of vegetable soup and a box of saltines. They would do to fill his empty belly. He dumped the soup into a pan and placed it on the stove.
After his meal boiled, he found a spoon in a drawer, sat at the table, crumbled some crackers over the soup and ate from the pan. He hadn’t known how hungry he was until the aroma of simple canned soup hit his nose. Lifting his spoon, he dug in, as happy as though he were dining at one of L.A.’s best eateries.
Montana never stirred.
She was out for the night. He ought to wake her to at least take off her coat and boots, but she looked so peaceful he hated to disturb her.
With a sigh, he pushed the empty pan aside and stretched his legs out toward the fire. Folding his hands over his full abdomen, he leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Like Montana, he was too tired to remove his boots.
Later.
Content and warm, he just wanted to rest for a few minutes.
~*~
Montana choked from air so thick with smoke she couldn’t see or breathe. Eyes welling with tears, she stumbled toward the stove. “Johnny! Get up!”
He appeared through the haze. “I’m here.”
“The cabin’s on fire. We gotta get out of here.” Montana grabbed his hand and they rushed toward the door.
Finding the handle took a few precious seconds and by the time the door swung open, she felt as if she’d swallowed a whole chimney full of smoke. They staggered outside and made it a few feet away from the danger. She bent over and placed her hands on her knees, coughing and gagging, eyes streaming.
Beside her, Johnny also choked.
When Montana could breathe again, she asked, “You okay?”
He nodded. “Yeah. You?”
“I’ll live.” She turned toward the cabin. Thick blue smoke filled the night air; the roof of the
cabin glowed orange.
When Johnny charged toward the burning building, Montana screamed, “No!”
Her heart pounded a crazy rhythm. He could die!
She sprinted after him, bumping into his body when he appeared through the smoke carrying his coat, rifle and the pair of saddlebags. “I’m okay, but we better move. She’s going down any minute.”
They stumbled to the hitch rail and leaned against it. Montana wiped her streaming eyes. In silence, except for an occasional cough, they watched the cabin burn. The flames tore through the aged wood like a racehorse out of the gate, the roar nearly deafening. There was no hope of saving the old place. Even if they had a way to carry water, there wouldn’t be nearly enough to stop the flames. In a matter of minutes, the back and side log walls collapsed with an ear-shattering bang. The front wall somehow stayed up, the front door wide open.
Montana asked in a numb voice, “Did you forget to open the damper?”
“No.” Johnny struggled into his coat. “It was fine. I double checked.”
Montana didn’t know how long they stood in the dark watching the logs smolder. How the hell was she going to explain to her friends that she’d been in residence when their family cabin—one they’d owned for over a hundred years—had gone up in flames? There was no replacing it. All the years and years of history, gone.
Tears that had nothing to do with the smoke hanging in the air filled her eyes.
Johnny wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. “Shhh. It’ll be okay.”
She buried her face against his solid chest. “I don’t know how. The Marshes are going to kill me when they see this.”
“That’s not going to happen.” He stroked her hair. “I’ll talk to them. Fuck. I’ll rebuild it.”
“Right now we have bigger problems.” Her words came slow. “Up until now I haven’t wanted to believe that Tom would actually do us harm, but I think he tried to kill us tonight.”
“Why do you say that?”
Holding Johnny’s hand, she led him toward the cabin. At the smoking remains, she stopped and pointed to the stove. “I’m no fireman, but if the fire started here, wouldn’t the stovepipe be melted? And the front wall would have burned.” She moved toward the back of the cabin. “I think the fire was set here. There’s nothing that would have made this wall burn.”
Johnny pointed to glowing embers from the fire along with snowflakes swirling in a light snowfall. “A cinder from the stovepipe could have lit back here.”
Montana bit her lip. “True, but not likely in the snow.”
“I think you’re right.” He turned to face her. “And I think we better get the hell out of here before he tries again.”
“My saddles are ruined.” Montana wanted to cry.
“We rode bareback this far.” Johnny grinned, but even he looked strained. “A few more miles won’t hurt us.”
Montana stiffened her spine, although another ride through the night sounded about as appealing as a root canal. “I guess since we’re awake we might as well leave now.”
“Wait here, “Johnny said. “I’ll catch the horses.”
Although tempted, she shook her head. “We’ll both go. Soon as we have them caught, we can leave. We don’t have anything to take with us, do we?” Her stomach knotted. “My gun was in the cabin with my saddle.”
“I have the saddlebags.” He held them up. “Although there’s only two bottles of water and some leftover chips and trail mix inside.”
“That’ll tide us over until we get to the ranch.” With a weary sigh, she said, “Guess we better go. Where are the halters?”
She walked toward the hitch rail where she’d hung the tack. “Johnny? Did you move the halters?”
“No. Why?”
“They’re gone.” She knelt and looked under the pole. Nothing. Montana couldn’t believe her eyes. “Not again.”
“Afraid so.” Johnny sounded disgusted.
Taking a slow turn, Montana examined the empty meadow. “This cannot be happening.”
“Wait.” Johnny walked a few feet and bent. He held up a bundle of nylon and cotton. “Look. Here they are.”
“Great, but where are the horses?” Montana put two fingers in her mouth and wolf whistled. She waited a moment, and when she heard nothing, she did it again.
Just when her heart began to sink, she heard a faint neigh.
“Where did that come from?” Montana cocked her head. She couldn’t put her finger on where the noise originated and whistled a third time.
The horse neighed again, this time from the area near the hot springs. Montana strode in that direction, her fear building. “I hope nobody’s bogged down in the mud.”
With her pulse pounding, she picked up the pace to a jog. The horses had been here before and knew the area around the ponds were dangerous. But accidents happened, and the way things had been going, she feared the worst.
As they drew close, steam filled the night air, making visibility close to zero. Slowing to a walk, Montana called, “Sunflower. Come here, boy.”
A soft snort let her know he was close.
“Sunflower?” She stopped to let him come to her.
In a moment, like some ghostly apparition, he walked out of the mist and put his muzzle in her palm. Wrapping her arms around his neck, Montana buried her nose in his mane. “That’s my good boy.”
The other two animals pushed forward looking for a treat. Montana let go of Sunflower and stroked the familiar faces. “I am so glad to see you guys. You wouldn’t run off and leave me here, would you? Why are you over here? You know it’s not safe.”
While she babbled, Johnny haltered the horses. “I am so fucking glad to see you guys.”
“Let’s get out of here.” Montana took a leery look around.
Leading the horses away from the dangerous area, with the mule tagging behind, they moved into the open meadow. The waning moon showed it was only about two hours until dawn.
~*~
Winter had come to the Rockies.
Snowflakes fell from low-hanging gray clouds, insulating them. The only sounds were the soft plops of hooves in the snow.
Montana longed for coffee and a hot breakfast. Her stomach grumbled, but she ignored it. The sooner they got off this mountain, the better.
Johnny hadn’t complained once, which amazed her. Any other hunter would have bitched and moaned endlessly. She glanced over her shoulder. Instead of the hunched shoulders and frown she expected, he sat straight and appeared to be on high alert.
Montana had kept her eyes open, too, but hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary. But her scalp and nerves tingled. Surely Tom had given up and wasn’t lurking around in the deep fog. Montana wasn’t taking the chance of accidently running into him and watched Sunflower for signs of other horses, but he hadn’t shown any indication so far. None of the animals seemed skittish, so Montana tried to shake off her uneasy feeling, chalking it up to the events of the last two days.
At the fork to the Hanging Bridge, Montana reined in.
Overnight, the snow had deepened to about a foot. Although Montana trusted the horses, there was no way in hell she would risk the Hanging Bridge in these conditions. The trail to camp was longer, but safer.
They had to ride about a half mile along the ridge before dropping into the trees. She ducked her face into her coat collar, wishing for a cup of coffee. Her stomach growled and a vision of Shannon’s biscuits and gravy made her mouth water. She dismounted with a sigh.
Johnny slid from Gunsmoke’s back and sidled up beside her. He dug in the saddlebags and retrieved the trail mix, offering it to her first.
She took a handful. “Thanks.”
He grabbed a handful and popped it into his mouth.
“What I wouldn’t give for a cup of coffee right now.” She dug out the raisins and tossed them aside. Camp robbers would find the treat after they left.
He winked. “A double tall mocha caramel latte with a triple
shot of vanilla? Topped off with a shot of Baileys.”
“I have no idea what that is,” she confessed. “I like my coffee strong and black. Sometimes with a spoonful of sugar.”
“It’s a super sweet concoction they call coffee back home,” he said. “You’ve completely changed my outlook on the stuff. I doubt I’ll ever be able to think about coffee in the same way again.”
He wasn’t the only one with a different way of thinking. About rock stars. Love affairs. Broken hearts.
Taking care not to let him see any emotion in her eyes, Montana took another scoop of the trail mix and ate it, raisins and all. When they`d emptied the bag, she said, “We better go.”
Johnny stuffed the plastic sack in the saddlebags and handed her his rifle. “Hold that until I mount back up, will you?”
“I can carry it,” she said.
“Okay.” He carried the saddlebags back to Gunsmoke and jumped on like an old pro. Montana wondered if he would miss riding when he went back to L.A. Would he miss her? Or would she be forgotten the minute he hit the airport? Sooner?
The trail mix tumbled around in her stomach and she swallowed hard.
After making sure Johnny was ready, she tapped Sunflower’s sides. The horse plodded forward, his tired steps sure.
The wind along the ridge was fierce, pushing them sideways and screeching like a dying animal. The clouds vanished, shoved away by the wind, leaving a cold blue sky. Montana pushed her sunglasses tighter and buried her chin in her collar. Thank God she had fallen asleep in her coat and boots, or she’d have frozen to death by now.
Somehow, Johnny had managed to get out with his outerwear, too. Thank heavens. When she got hold of Tom she was going to make him hurt. What the hell was wrong with him? Taking the horses was bad enough, but tearing apart her camp and burning down the Marshes’ cabin passed nutty into dangerous and criminal.
If she and Johnny hadn’t woken, they would have burned to death in the fire. Montana shuddered. Thank God the smoke woke them before they asphyxiated.
One of the first things she planned to do when they hit town was go straight to the sheriff’s office and press charges.