He looked into Will’s worried eyes. “I’m sorry son. The birch tea will take time. I don’t know what else to do ’cept pray the fever don’t fry her brain before the brew takes hold.”
* * * *
Will shoved Charlie out of the way. Time was one thing they didn’t have. Scooping the girl into his arms, he carried her through the door and into the night. Surefooted as any mountain goat, he retraced his steps. Without pausing to strip, he waded into the icy water with the girl in his arms and began the chant his grandfather had taught him.
Would the spirits save her or take her?
He saw his spirit guide, the stallion, standing in the clearing pawing the ground with fire in his eyes. He tossed his head from side to side, and the fire danced.
* * * *
“Sweet Jesus! Son, come out of there—come out—Will, you’re froze solid!” Charlie’s lantern swung wildly as he tugged at the arm wrapped tightly around the girl’s legs. It felt like a block of ice. Will’s eyes were focused within, like when he sat in the sweat lodge. Instead of the heat of the lodge, he stood waist-deep in ice water, but the chant remained the same, calling the Fathers. “Will!”
Charlie said a prayer of his own, or perhaps a threat, to the Almighty or whoever cared to listen. “Don’t you dare take that boy from me.” Charlie tugged on the girl’s legs to get Will’s attention. It worked. Whether Will thought he’d lost his hold, his prayers had ended, or the Lord decided to be kind to an old man. He moved toward the bank.
Charlie rubbed Will with a rough blanket as soon as he stepped from the water in hopes of restoring some of his circulation. Wrapping the other around him and the girl, he led them home by the light of his lantern.
Time would tell if the icy water would cure or kill not only the girl, but Will as well.
Chapter 4
The sheriff’s office was in a tizzy, not knowing what to expect and dreading the worst. Donna had done nothing to dispel their notions. Doctor Mason seemed like a nice guy. When she’d regained consciousness, he’d been in the process of chewing out all and sundry for leaving her cold and wet. His concern focused on her when she gave in to a fit of giggling. It wasn’t her fault his bright red mustache and hair reminded her of Yosemite Sam, not that she said so aloud. The doc wanted to give her a sedative, but she refused, so he settled for a B-12 shot to help her body cope with the stress.
“Ms.—”
“Mrs. Andrews, Doctor Mason. As I’ve told you repeatedly, I am a married woman.” Donna glanced at the clock. Bob and Dan should be here soon. “Turn up the heat if you’re so worried, but I won’t shower or change my clothes until my husband and father-in-law arrive, which could be any time now. Important evidence might be on my person or my clothing. If Bob says to go ahead, I will avail myself of the facilities and lovely orange jumpsuit the department so kindly offered.”
“Ma’am, you are being held in conjunction with the disappearance of your friend. We can insist on your compliance.” The barrel-chested Sheriff Dillon threatened, hooking his thumbs in his suspenders.
“Yes, sir, you do that little thing, and should evidence be destroyed as a result, you might find yourself in a matching outfit after I finish suing this department. I’m not telling my story, I’m not taking a shower, I’m not changing my clothes, and I am not saying this again. We wait for my family.”
They didn’t have long to wait. Donna heard the judge long before she saw him. His loud, “I demand to see the sheriff! Where is my daughter-in-law?” shook the walls of the holding room. Sheriff Dillon stretched up to his full height of somewhere around six feet plus one or two inches and stuck his chest out further. He looked like a rooster guarding his henhouse. His posturing was short-lived.
Judge Robert Andrews burst through the security doors with his son in his wake. Father and son, identical in height and build, stood six foot-six inches tall in their stocking feet, which they weren’t. Two inches needed to be added for the heels of their Justins. Their shoulders seemed a yard wide. Gray shot through the judge’s sandy hair but had yet to touch Dan’s. Both had brown eyes so dark they appeared black in most light. How eyes so similar could look so different, Donna had never really understood. The fierce hardness of the Judge’s when he tried a case reminded her of twin lumps of coal while Dan’s practically danced with warmth, until you crossed him.
Bob shoved a roll of papers in the direction of the sheriff as Dan brushed past the matron, arms out to hug his wife.
“Don’t!” Donna screeched.
Dan froze.
“That’s my girl.” The judge’s lip curled up on one side and he gave her a wink before clapping a hand on his son’s shoulder. “Evidence.”
Dan nodded, but his eyes never left her face. Donna felt the heat rise to her cheeks.
“We need your crime scene investigators here, now. I brought an independent team to collect their own samples. I need a female physician, no offense, sir.” He paused to offer a nod to Doc Mason. “Your matron may stay.”
“This is still my department, sir—”
“According to the paperwork in your hand, for the time being, it’s mine.”
Dillon scowled and let the papers drift to the floor before he stormed out.
“If you plan to follow your boss, get out! Otherwise, do as I say, and be quick about it.”
Doc Mason spoke up. “I’m the M.E. for the county, if you want CSI, you’ll need to call the FBI.”
“Are you any good?”
“I haven’t had any complaints, but then…”
“…dead men tell no tales? But now, doctor, we both know that’s a damn lie.”
“Dad, I hate to interrupt the dick measuring contest, but Meg’s been gone for hours, and I’m freezing over here!”
“Sorry, sweetheart.” Bob turned to face the matron. “We’ll need a private room.”
“This ain’t the Holiday Inn,” the woman blurted.
“You, madam, are dismissed.”
Dan moved to stand as close to Donna as he could while still not touching, although the heat in his eyes said he wanted to do exactly that. Donna smiled back. Only her husband would gaze at her like she was a heavenly being when she looked like a drowned rat. With a sigh, they both turned back to watch the fireworks.
“You aren’t the boss of me.”
“A happy occurrence for the both of us. You will retain your job, but I don’t have to work with you. However, according to the governor, I am in charge of overseeing the collection of evidence, so I can be assured my client’s rights are represented.”
“The governor of Arkansas has no jurisdiction in Colorado.”
“That is why I stopped off to visit with yours.” He scanned the sheets on the floor, selected one with an official seal, and stuck it in her face. “You may leave now. I’m sure we can find a room suitable to our purposes on our own.” He strolled to the door and opened it with a flourish. “Send my team in if you please.”
Donna managed a giggle through her chattering teeth and waved bye-bye. “Bob?”
“This room will do fine if we can cover the mirror.”
Donna had forgotten all about the two-way mirror on the wall. “They brought a blanket.” She pointed to the chair tucked in at the table. “I was afraid I’d mess something up if I used it.”
“Smart girl. I should never have let this one steal you away from my office.” He stuck a thumb over his shoulder to indicate Dan and then shook the blanket free of its folds. “Duct tape?”
Doc Mason produced a roll from his medical bag. Eyebrows rose around the room. “For splinting in the field. Also comes in handy for a leaky radiator hose.”
The blanket secured over the mirror made the room as private as it was likely to get. Donna knew the drill, and with Meghan’s life possibly at stake, modesty wasn’t a top priority. She sighed when the team entered the room, all of them women. Bob might get the big wet one he’d been fishing for as soon as they finished their jobs, or possibly not.
“Female court recorder, in five minutes,” Bob ordered.
“Yes, sir.” He spun on his heel and left the room. In three minutes, a tap on the door announced the stenographer’s arrival.
As she set up and Bob gave directions, Dan leaned in to whisper in Donna’s ear. “We’ll find her, sugar. First we need to get the facts and any evidence down all legal-like, and then when they’re all finished, I’m gonna kiss you until your lips fall off.”
“I love a man with a plan.” Tears rolled down her cheeks.
“Ah, sugar, don’t do that.”
“Get me a tea?” She sniffled and started to wipe her eyes, stopping just in time. “What if the rain washed all the evidence away?”
“Donna,” Bob interrupted, “can you answer questions while the techs work? Multitasking will make things go faster.”
She nodded. “Get me a huge tea, and I’ll talk all night if you need me to.”
The team laid a plastic sheet on the floor then asked Donna to stand in the center. They started at the top of her head and worked down. Gloved fingers roamed through her matted locks, followed by a fine-toothed comb. Any bits of fiber or material were dropped into tiny plastic bags, marked and secured. Something resembling cobweb and a piece of plant matter were removed from her hair. Her mouth, ears, and the smudges under her eyes where the mascara had run were swabbed. Each swab got bagged and labeled.
Dan returned with the gigantic cup of tea and a small one filled with lemon slices. He set the cup on the table, took off the lid, and began to squeeze lemon wedges into the tea, stirring intermittently with the straw. The room soon smelled like a lemon grove.
“You finished with her mouth?” A tech nodded. Dan held the straw to her lips. “Slow, baby, take it slow or you’ll choke.”
When had she last had a drink? The sassafras tea the old woman made…
“Ready?” Bob asked.
Donna took another gulp and nodded. “We came to a detour sign and diverted off the two-lane to a dirt country road. We drove for about twenty miles and never glimpsed another vehicle or another detour sign.” She gave a snort of exasperation. “The GPS and cell had no reception, and there wasn’t a place wide enough to turn around. Ow!”
“Sorry.” The tech who scraped under Donna’s nails with an orange stick apologized. “I was trying to get all the dirt.”
“Just be sure to mark the blood as mine. Anyway, we had almost reached the top of the mountain when Meg saw smoke. A cabin and a huge old barn appeared around the next bend.”
Dan and Bob exchanged knowing looks.
“I thought the place was deserted, but an old lady answered the door and invited us to tea. You should see the place—”
“We will, as soon as the sun comes up. Was the woman alone?” Bob asked.
“As far as I know, I never saw anyone else. She gave us permission to search the barn. Meg found some saddles in the loft and sent me to negotiate price, but I couldn’t find the woman. On the way back to the barn, the rain started, so I went to get the saddles under cover and heard Meg scream. I ran to the barn, but she wasn’t there.” Donna started to shake.
Doc Mason drew up something in a syringe, but Bob waved him back. “Not yet, she must be clearheaded until she finishes the deposition.”
Doc bit his lip and capped the syringe.
“Just a little more, sweetheart,” Bob promised before turning to answer a tap at the door. A hand passed a box with a large manila folder on top into his waiting hands. The door clicked closed. Returning to the table, he dumped the contents of the folder on top. Donna’s truck keys and the keys to the trailer spilled out along with a receipt from a gas station in Denver plus one from in town. A McDonald’s receipt for one sweet iced tea and one large diet Dr. Pepper fluttered to the floor. The box contained the girls’ purses, wallets, IDs, and a fat oilskin parcel. “What’s this?”
“The old woman got it out of a cupboard. You won’t believe what it says. I don’t believe what it says.” Her words muffled as a tech peeled Donna’s T-shirt over her head. She crossed her arms over her breasts as she tried to stop shaking. “She disappeared, but that was on the table. She got it out while we were having tea. Why would she do that?”
Bob stared at the documents in his hand then let his eyes drift to Donna’s ample breasts. Slowly, he raised his eyes, turned to the doctor, and nodded.
The tech was removing Donna’s jeans when Mason stuck the needle in her arm. The room slowly lost focus.
Chapter 5
The filly’s fever had come down some, and she appeared to be resting comfortably now. Well, at least she didn’t toss and turn or talk out of her head about trucks, sheep, and spiders. She seemed better, although it was a mite too soon to tell if she’d end up with lung fever from the dunking in the stream. Will didn’t worry about his health even though Charlie was beside himself. If he drank another hot toddy the old man forced on him, Will might well crawl in next to the girl. If he managed to sleep they’d be all right, the problem was he couldn’t guarantee that. She stirred something in him.
Charlie handed him the cup of birch tea with a large dollop of honey in it to mask the bitter taste. He had decided the girl needed a dose every couple of hours until the fever broke. Will slipped his arm under her shoulders to raise her head and force a little of the tea between her lips. She swallowed and the tip of her pink tongue smoothed across her lower lip. Will watched in fascination.
“Charlie, pass me the honey pot.”
“What’cha planning?” He handed the pot to the boy, waiting.
Will took the dipper and drew honey across the girl’s lower lip. Her tongue flicked again to remove the sweetness. Will’s followed her pattern. Charlie’s chuckle broke his concentration.
“That’s right fine. Sweets’ll help keep her strength up ’til we can get some broth down her. I put some jerky on to boil. Will, you need to get some rest. I’ll sit with her a spell.” Will’s focus remained on the girl. “Suit yerself.”
Will had no plans to leave until her eyes opened. He had appeased Charlie by stripping off his wet britches and drawers and wrapping himself in the blanket he heated over the stove. When Charlie seemed satisfied with his color, Will wrapped the blanket around his hips and pulled the chair next to the bunk where he planned on remaining.
“Will?”
“Huh? What?”
“I said—the broth is made. Try to get some down her in between doses of tea. If you won’t rest, I’ll bunk out in the barn. I’m too old fer sleeping in a chair. Holler if you want me to spell you or if’n she takes a turn. Night.”
Will nodded, but kept his eyes focused on the girl. He smoothed the hair back from her face and let it slide through his fingers. Paler than corn silk and superfine, like angel hair, the mane must reach her waist. How had she gotten it all up under that hat, and how did he ever think this body belonged to a boy? Hell, he must be tipsy. Charlie hadn’t spared the whiskey in those toddies.
He got up to pour him another and a cup of broth for the girl. Maybe the whiskey would kill the throb in his crotch, the real reason he hadn’t been in a hurry for a fresh pair of britches. He’d already had one too many dunks in the stream for the day, and his hand really wasn’t where he wanted to find release. He rearranged the blanket, securing the end at his waist. Carrying the cups carefully, he returned to his sentry post at her bed. He set the broth aside to cool for a bit, and sipped his drink as he watched her sleep.
Visions in bright red returned to his mind. The lace covering her pert breasts was scandalous enough, but that piece of nothing barely covering her feminine parts beat all he’d ever seen. She might as well have been wearing nothing at all…like now. The pulse in his throat lurched in time with his groin. His hand, totally against his will, drew back the blanket covering her, baring her to the waist. He fisted his fingers in the material to keep from stroking her flesh as his eyes drank her
in.
Her skin had seen some sun, not nut brown like his, but a light golden—except for two triangles over her breasts. Larger than they first appeared, her breasts formed neat mounds as she lay on her back, the nipples a dusky rose. He licked his lips and swallowed hard, shifting himself as his cock bobbed against the rough weave of the blanket, like a divining rod pointing the way. His hands easily spanned her narrow waist, and her ribs lay outlined under her skin. She wasn’t skinny, but slim. Her arms showed slender muscle.
Unable to contain his curiosity, he turned the cover back more. A moan escaped his lips before he could stop it, to meet a sigh from hers. His gaze riveted on her face. Half of him prayed he’d been caught just so she’d open her eyes, the other feared what she’d think if she did. She’d be able to think. She wouldn’t be like the fawn. She’d get better. He reached for his cup and gulped the contents, drowning the notion but not the want.
Hardly any hair covered her mound, but what little he saw there was the same pale shade. A thin scar angled the right side of her groin below a flat stomach. He let his finger trace the blemish. The scar was old, no ridge, just a white line highlighted against the tan of her skin. The skin of her groin was pale like her breasts. She’d have to have been near naked in the sun to brown like that.
The thought, accompanied by a vivid vision of her lying in the sunshine wearing nothing but those red bits, sent blood rushing to his dick. He bent double. When he managed to breathe, he laughed. That’s what he got for peeking. He reached to draw the covers back up, but the expression on her face changed. The scent told him why.
His body and mind warred with each other. In truth, he should probably call Charlie to tend to her, but the old man was probably fast asleep by now. He couldn’t just let her lie there. Admittedly her predicament gave him an excuse to touch her intimately. His body seemed to respond to torture.
The blanket remained dry, so he folded it back to the foot of the bunk before he draped her shapely legs across his arm and raised her rear. With his free hand, he drew the wet bedding from under her then lay her back on the bare ticking. He went to the trunk at the foot of the bunk to get what he needed. Folding the sheeting into a pallet, he returned to the bed and repeated his earlier maneuver, positioning the pad under her firm rear end and down to the bend of her knees. He drew the blanket back over her to keep her from catching a chill. His fingertips scraped across her left breast, and the nipple shrank to a hard bud. Sensitive filly. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply before turning to fetch the basin of warm water from the boiler.
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