Montana Refuge

by Alice Sharpe

  She put her hand on Tyler’s sleeve. “Look.”

  “What am I looking at?”

  “Those flags. They remind me of the doodles in Killigrew’s notebook. What country is that one with the green field?”

  “I’m not sure. Guyana, I think.”

  “That has to be it. Killigrew’s victim is in that car.”

  “And so are the diplomat’s bodyguards. If we approach from the street, they’ll probably shoot first and ask for ID second.”

  “But when the man gets out of that car, Killigrew is going to have to be close by, right? All he has to do is poke the man with something, mumble an apology and get away.” They angled their way through the gathered crowd, arriving close enough to witness the unloading process when the Bolivian car disgorged a tall, handsome man and a woman equally as attractive.

  The Guyana car was two down in line.

  As Tyler inched closer, trying to be on hand when the diplomat disembarked, Julie studied the people around her.

  How would Killigrew disguise himself? He couldn’t make himself shorter unless he stooped or maybe he wore lifts while being a professor. She’d never noticed his shoes looking odd, so she looked for a person kind of slumped over. His hair was his signature, so she could assume no white hair to suggest his own. Look for darker hair or hats. It was Seattle, in June—everyone was wearing a scarf or hat. Even the bag lady with the shopping cart looked bundled up.

  A man standing behind the woman carried an umbrella, also a pretty common sight in the Pacific Northwest. Wasn’t that how the pellet that killed Georgi Markov had been delivered, via a jab with the tip of an umbrella? This guy had dark hair and a mustache, glasses, a large nose...and was leaning heavily on the umbrella. He wore a shapeless trench coat and a fedora. He was about the right size....

  Julie moved that direction. That had to be Killigrew, and she was gripped with the need to stop him. As she got closer, he stepped forward. She twisted her head to see where the Guyana car was and found the door had been opened and an average-looking man of Latin descent wearing a black tuxedo had emerged. He paused to adjust his cuffs. Julie looked back at the man she’d targeted as Killigrew and found he’d paused and was once again leaning on the umbrella. Behind him, the bag lady flipped back a corner of the blanket that covered a shopping cart stuffed with odds and ends and castoffs. Julie stared transfixed at the old woman’s hand.

  Julie made an intuitive leap. As the bag lady closed her fingers around what appeared to be a harmless mechanical pencil, Julie backtracked. The bag lady was moving again, this time quickly, the pencil all but hidden in her big hand, her movements seemingly random but taking her right into the path of the Guyana diplomat.

  “Tyler!” Julie yelled, and dozens of heads turned her way, but not the woman’s. “Watch out. It’s the bag lady. It’s in a pencil.” Tyler stepped in front of the diplomat, which alarmed the man’s bodyguard and the police. Julie, unencumbered, ran to the diplomat. The bag lady stopped just two feet away.

  “She’s going to kill you,” Julie said, unsure if the man even spoke English. “You mustn’t let her touch you.”

  The police had started to pay attention to Julie, who yelled out another warning. Eyes turned to the bag lady and Julie cried, “That’s not an old woman, it’s an assassin. He’s got poison—”

  The bag lady looked right at Julie, but it was with Killigrew’s eyes. He grabbed Julie and hissed in her ear. “You’ll get it instead, you troublemaker.”

  And then Tyler was suddenly there. He struggled with Killigrew, who levered the pencil at Julie, choking her in the process as she pushed against the arm and the little point of the pencil that was getting closer with each beat of her heart. Tyler pulled his arm in the other direction, but the point kept coming. Then Julie heard a hiss issue from Killigrew’s mouth as Tyler kicked him hard.

  All of a sudden, Killigrew let go of Julie. She didn’t know why, just that his arm slipped from her throat. She turned quickly to make sure Tyler was all right. He stood there staring at Killigrew, who had fallen to his knees and now gaped at his hand. The pencil stuck out of his palm, its deadly mission under way inside his own body.

  * * *

  THEY STAYED IN SEATTLE three days to answer a seemingly endless slew of questions. Killigrew refused to utter a word and died at the end of the second day without ever revealing anything. But Trill had amassed a lot of the information and was trying to buy his way into a plea bargain for causing Nora’s death by spilling his guts.

  The days were spent with the police, but the nights belonged to them. Tyler began to hope that a miracle was happening and that Julie was at last finding in their relationship what he’d always found—excitement, fulfillment, love. The admiration for her tenacity that had begun to grow out on the cattle drive just escalated as he watched her maneuver her way through a quagmire of legalese.

  And then she got a phone call, and by the end of the call he could tell something had changed. Still, she didn’t say anything and he was afraid to ask. Instead, he watched with interest as she dressed for dinner, wrapping herself in a new red dress that clung to every curve.

  “That call today?” she said, as she buttered a roll at dinner. They’d both settled on Seafood Louies, crisp greens mounded with Dungeness crab and tender pink shrimp.

  Tyler’s stomach tensed at the tone in her voice. She was nervous and that made him nervous.

  “It was from the chancellor at the school where Killigrew taught. Where I used to work.”

  “Did he want to congratulate you on your help for catching an assassin?” Tyler asked, fork poised over his dinner, appetite gone.

  “Kind of. Actually, he offered me a job in his office.”

  “You’re not going to take it, are you?”

  She avoided looking at him when she responded. “Tyler, try to understand. If I go back to Montana now, I go as someone who failed miserably at making my way. This is my chance for redemption, my chance to prove to myself I can do it.”

  He pushed his plate away. “Listen to yourself,” he said. “You’ve spent the past week outwitting murderers. You survived and you did it while working your tail off, by thinking on your feet, by facing every day.”

  “I’m alive because of you,” she said.

  “Don’t sell yourself short.”

  She shook her head and he could see that he’d lost her—again.

  The next day he drove her to Portland and kissed her while standing on the sidewalk out in front of her place. There was no way he was going inside her apartment. “As soon as I get home, I’ll sign the papers,” he assured her.

  “Not now,” she said. “Let me come visit you at the end of the season when we’ve both had time to think. We can talk then. You have a lot to do when you get back....”

  “I don’t need to think,” he said. “I guess that’s the difference between us.”

  “Tyler, try to understand. I have a chance for another new beginning here.”

  “You’re fond of new beginnings, aren’t you?” he muttered.

  “Aren’t you?”

  “Not when I already have what I want,” he said.

  She squeezed his hand. “Call me when you get home. Let me know you arrived safely.”

  “Okay,” he managed to say and then he had to leave or she’d hear his voice crack. He made a slight detour but otherwise drove straight through, unwilling to sleep, knowing what his dreams would be like if he did. As he switched off his key, he pulled out the replacement cell phone he’d bought in Seattle and dialed the number Julie had programmed into it.

  “You made it,” she said.

  “Just got here.”

  “Everything okay?”

  “Peachy,” he said, and got out of the truck. “Listen, John Smyth and my mother are coming out of the house. Glory be, she’s actually smiling at him. Anyway, they’re on their way over so I’m hanging up. Take care of yourself, Julie.” He broke the connection, preferring that to hearing her say goodb
ye...again.

  “You still hanging around?” Tyler asked John.

  “I’d planned to leave day before yesterday, but I read about what happened in Seattle and thought it would be worth it to hear the real story. Rose convinced me I wouldn’t be any bother for a few more days and said you might need some help around here, what with Andy still in the hospital.”

  “Yeah. I stopped by and saw him on the way home. He’s doing pretty good. Doctor says you and Mele saved his life.”

  “She did all the work,” John said as Rose reached out and hugged Tyler. Her eyes asked the question he knew she wouldn’t utter out loud and he hoped the modest shake of his head answered it. Julie wasn’t coming back....

  For the next few days, John helped out more and more at the ranch and Tyler began to suspect John was angling for a job. “What exactly is it you do when you’re not playing cowboy?” he asked as John helped him load fence posts.

  “This and that,” John said.

  “Don’t you have a job?”

  “Yeah, I have a job. Right now it’s trying to put my family together again.”

  “Wife leave you?” Tyler asked, realizing suddenly that John never talked about himself.

  “No, the one I want hasn’t consented to marry me quite yet. She told me to take care of business and then make her my bride. I’m kind of anxious to get back to her, so I guess I better stop stalling and take care of business.”

  “Now you’re talking in riddles,” Tyler said. “Or circles. Why do I get the feeling you’re trying to tell me something?”

  “Because I’m trying to tell you something,” John said. He dropped the four-by-four he’d hefted and sat down on the rear of the truck, lifting the water jug and taking a long swallow. Tyler pitched the post he’d lifted into the bed of the truck and sat down beside him. “What’s up?”

  John pushed back his hat. “I’m going to give you the abbreviated version first, let you assimilate that, then you can ask me anything you want and I’ll answer you if I can. First I’ll tell you a little about myself. My mother died when I was a kid. My father remarried and they had two children back to back, several years younger than me. Dad was a diplomat in a little country called Kanistan. Heard of it?”

  “Sure,” Tyler said, pouring cool water from his jug over the back of his neck. It felt great on his overheated skin.

  “Well, as you know...” John began, but his words petered off. Tyler turned to see what had drawn his attention and found a small white car with Oregon plates coming down the gravel road. It pulled into the yard and stopped. The driver got out, the wind catching at her hair.

  Tyler was suddenly on his feet. “We’ll pick this up later, okay?” he said and walked toward the car, only vaguely aware of John’s presence behind him. What was Julie doing here? He stopped short of her car and they stared at each other.

  John walked by on his way back to the house. “Hello, Julie,” he called as he passed.

  Her answering hello sounded as distracted as Tyler felt.

  She kept coming until she was standing close enough to touch. Brushing her hair from her amazing eyes, she stared up at him. His breathing became labored. For the first time in years, her eyes didn’t seem to harbor any secrets and he didn’t know what that meant.

  “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking,” she said.

  “You’re good at that.”

  “Yes, I guess I am. But sometimes I overthink things.”

  It grew silent again, and Tyler waited. He could see her struggling to find words. What was with everyone today?

  “You know,” he said, “John and I were just talking. He’s got something on his mind and he’s trying to get it out, but he started his story way back when he was a kid. I’m sure he’ll wrap it all up eventually, but there’s something to be said for just coming out and saying whatever it is you want to say.”

  “You mean stop beating around the bush.”

  “That’s exactly what I mean. Start with why you’re here.”

  “Did you sign the papers yet?”

  “The divorce papers? Not exactly. You came all the way here for that?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Julie—”

  “I came because I love you, Tyler. I always have and I think I always will.”

  “That’s not good enough,” he said.

  Her eyes flashed. “I beg your pardon?”

  “I want more than just your love.”

  Her hands landed on her waist and he realized she looked different than she had the first time she came back. She wasn’t a whole lot bigger, but somehow, there was more of her. “What do you want?” she said.

  He narrowed his eyes. “Let’s just put it this way. You’re heavy maintenance, Julie Hunt. You’re just way too much work for a simple cowboy like me.”

  “But I’m worth it,” she said.

  He cracked a smile.

  “And you like a challenge.”

  His smile widened. “Well, that’s true, I do.”

  “And I don’t want to go on without you.”

  “What about your new beginning? What about proving yourself?”

  Her nose scrunched up. “Funny thing about that. I walked into the chancellor’s office and looked at my pretty desk and listened to his grand plans and I realized I wasn’t listening to him at all, that my heart was not in his office, not in that school, not in that state. It was here. I thought about Babylon. And this ranch. And Rose and cattle drives and the century house and how we could redo it to make it more modern. But most of all I thought about you and how you stuck with me and how much I wanted someday soon to look into your eyes and tell you I was pregnant with our first child. I want my life back, Tyler, and it took until two days ago to realize that my life is you and this ranch and this sky and—”

  His voice gravelly with emotion, he interrupted her. “Why are you still standing all the way over there?” he asked, and opened his arms as she flew into his embrace.

  Epilogue

  Rose broke out the champagne and shooed everyone out of the kitchen but Julie and Tyler and for some reason John Smyth, whom she seemed to have taken a shine to. Tyler sat where she told him to sit and he realized there was something more than joy and celebration in the air...there was also expectation.

  “You got us all arranged. What’s going on?” Tyler asked, looking first at Julie, then at John.

  “John has something important to tell you,” Rose said.

  A little gasp escaped Julie’s lips. Uh-oh...

  John rubbed his chin. “I started talking to you about this earlier today,” John said.

  “Yeah, I know,” Tyler said cautiously. “You were telling me about a country called Kanistan.”

  “That’s right.”

  “And about your mother dying when you were young and your father remarrying and having two more kids.”

  “Yeah. Well, unfortunately, my father and stepmother died in an explosion. I was injured in the blast and wound up with amnesia. I was raised by people claiming to be my grandparents. Last year I was contacted by a woman who’d seen my picture when it showed up in the newspaper after I saved the life of a congressman. She said I looked just like her dead brother. She’d been told his three sons died, but now she wondered if one of them was alive—in other words, me. Was it possible the other two were, as well?”

  John took a deep breath as he glanced at each of them in turn. “You have to understand that was the first time in my life since I was ten that I realized I even had brothers. I went to Kanistan and did some research and met roadblocks and then came home, planning to return, but before I could, someone from there came here to shut me up. The result was that I got amnesia on top of the original amnesia.”

  “Are you making this up?” Tyler said. His mother and Julie were very quiet.

  “No. I don’t blame you for thinking that, though. Now, tell me this. Where did you pick up that tune you whistle?”

  Tyler whistled a few bars. “That?�
�

  “Yeah, that.”

  “I don’t know. I’ve always whistled it.” He looked at his mother for confirmation and she nodded. “I think I made it up,” he added.

  “You didn’t,” John said. “In fact it’s a Kanistan song that was popular twenty-five or thirty years ago. Our father had a man working for him—”

  “Wait just a second,” Tyler said, jumping to his feet. “Our father?”

  “Hear me out. This man worked at the embassy and he visited the house often. He always whistled that song. That’s where you heard it. You’re my younger brother.”

  “Because of a song? Man, you’re crazy. There’s no way we can be related. For one thing, I’m not adopted—”

  “Yes, you are,” Rose said softly. “I know I should have told you years ago, but your father was adamant and then after he died, it just seemed like it was too late.”

  “You knew my parents were murdered?” Tyler said. Had the world just gone crazy? He looked at Julie and found her eyes flooded with sympathy.

  “No, of course she didn’t,” John said. “The man responsible for this was very clever. He changed your name and falsified your records and shipped you away where you couldn’t cause him any trouble. Rose and your adoptive dad got a whole different story about your background.”

  “We were told your father and mother died in a traffic accident that you survived and that’s why you were so scared when you got here.”

  “It’s the same story my fake grandparents told everyone in the town where I was raised,” John said. “Standard issue, I guess.”

  Rose had gotten to her feet. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she stared at Tyler. “Can you forgive me?”

  Tyler walked over to her. Looking down into her face, he saw simply his mother, nothing more, nothing less. Just the only mother he’d ever known. He put his arms around her and hugged her close, absorbing her cries with his body as he looked over her head and into the eyes of—his brother.