Lone Rider

by B. J Daniels

  He’d first noticed her at grade school the day she walked into the building. He’d been a second grader, Bo a kindergartener. He’d seen something on her freshly scrubbed face, a stark determination as if she’d made up her mind to take on kindergarten as though it was a battle to be won. He’d loved that about her right away.

  His attempts to get to know her had been rebuked, though. She didn’t seem to make friends easily, standing like she was in her older sisters’ shadows.

  Jace rubbed a hand over his face. Since that day he’d been chasing Bo Hamilton, he thought with a curse. And she had been distancing herself from him. Listening to the night sounds, he wondered where she was tonight.

  What if she had taken a different way out of the mountains? What if she was already back in town? What if he was on a wild-goose chase?

  No. Bo was still up here. Had she been headed back to face the consequences, she would have traveled the most direct route—the same one she’d taken when she left.

  She could have camped at any of the spots on the way back into the mountains, and yet she’d kept going. Where had she been headed?

  He suspected she hadn’t had a plan, or she would have taken a credit card and headed for the airport. Instead, she’d gone camping? He reminded himself that she was a cowgirl. This was her country as much as his. This was where he found peace. Maybe this was also where she found it.

  Had she, though? She couldn’t have brought enough supplies to last more than a night or so back in here. He also couldn’t picture her roughing it for long. So where was she?

  Jace told himself that eventually she would have to ride out of the mountains. She hadn’t dropped down into the other drainage on the Shields River side—at least not yet. That appeared to be the way the man whose tracks he’d seen had come up.

  Oh, yeah, what if she is in a Wilsall bar right now having dinner and a drink with that man?

  He shook his head as he studied the moonlit mountains he would ride into come sunup. The pieces didn’t fit. Jace felt a shiver even though the night wasn’t that cold. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he wasn’t the only one now sharing these mountains with Bo.

  Praying for sunup, he told himself he should try to get some sleep. He would keep following her trail tomorrow. He would find her if he had to follow her to Mexico.

  He breathed in the cooling night air. Even though it was summer, it would get cold tonight. He was glad he’d brought an extra sleeping bag. The dark night sky had filled with white stars that twinkled above the treetops.

  Was Bo Hamilton looking up at all those stars right now?

  Trying to put her out of his mind, he closed his eyes. The image of his sister filled his thoughts. Em would be worried that she hadn’t heard from him by now, but she knew him. She knew how, when he set his mind to something, he stuck with it.

  “I wish I was like you,” she’d said more times than he wanted to remember. “I let life knock me off course.”

  “Not anymore. You’re strong. You have Jodie to think about now. She will help keep you on the straight and narrow.” Even as he’d said the words, he’d known it was more complicated than that. And so had Em.

  They both worried something could happen to divert her from her best intentions.

  He opened his eyes as an owl flapped by overhead, its wings catching flashes of moonlight. He listened for closer sounds. The crunch of dried pine needles under a boot heel. The sharp crack of a limb as a shoulder brushed against it. The stumbling sound of a horse as it came down the trail.

  He heard nothing but the faint breeze high in the pines.

  Jace closed his eyes, his rifle cradled in his arms, as he thought about what a surprise it would be for Bo Hamilton when he found her. He couldn’t wait to see the expression on her face.

  * * *

  “THIS IS NICE,” Russell said after he and Sarah had eaten a late dinner out on the porch overlooking the valley. She knew he didn’t like leaving her up here alone, and she appreciated his company. He tried to come up every day. He always brought food and water and anything else he thought she needed. He was so thoughtful, so caring that she couldn’t help being fond of him.

  But it worried her that he might be getting too attached to her. He’d actually mentioned marriage. She’d ignored the comment as if she hadn’t heard him, but knew she had to be careful or Russell would get the wrong idea.

  “Yes, nice,” she said.

  He cleared his throat. She could tell there was something he wanted to talk to her about, but he wasn’t sure how to broach the subject. She waited, half-afraid of what he might suggest.

  It had grown dark, but she could still see his face in the starlight. “I’ve been doing more research on memory loss.”

  Sarah was relieved he didn’t want to talk about the two of them, let alone marriage. But she didn’t want to discuss her memory loss, either.

  “It’s cooling down,” she said as she rose and picked up their coffee cups to take them back into the cabin. He had to have known bringing up the subject would upset her, but clearly it was something he needed to say.

  “I know you hate talking about your condition,” he said as he followed her inside, where he turned on lights to chase away the darkness. “I’m sure it haunts you every day. But the more I read, the more I think I know why you can’t remember.”

  They’d had this discussion before. “You believe Buck did something I couldn’t live with.”

  “I do.” He was convinced whatever had happened took place between the time she gave birth to the twins and drove into the river. “You wouldn’t have left your children and driven your vehicle into an iced-over river in an attempt apparently to kill yourself unless you felt there was no other way out.”

  “Maybe you just want to believe that,” she said, hating the irritation she heard in her voice. “Maybe I’m a selfish, crazy woman. Or maybe it was postpartum depression from suddenly having so many children that I felt overwhelmed.”

  “I don’t believe that, and neither do you.” Russell took a breath and let it out slowly. He appeared half afraid to voice his suspicions because he knew they would upset her. Not to mention that they were outlandish. “How can you be so sure that Buckmaster Hamilton wasn’t the man who picked you up that night and took you somewhere, saying he was going to get you help?”

  She couldn’t be sure, since she had no memory of that night. But Russell had told her the news reports said her vehicle had broken through the ice. With her car half submerged, either she’d been ejected or she’d climbed out, fallen through the ice and floated downriver.

  According to what Russell had heard around the valley, she’d been found by an old hermit named Lester Halverson, who’d hauled her out of the river, given her warm clothing and promised to keep her secret.

  Just before he’d died, he’d apparently confessed the truth. So much for keeping her secret. He’d told the sheriff that she’d made a call and someone had picked her up in the middle of the night. He hadn’t known whom.

  “It makes sense that failing your attempt at suicide, you would call your husband after almost drowning—especially if you were depressed and feeling overwhelmed,” Russell was saying. “Was there anyone else you would have turned to?”

  Living out on the ranch, she hadn’t made many friends. She’d gotten pregnant with Ainsley. Two years later, Kat had come along, and then Bo and then Olivia and then the twins. It was the life she wanted. She’d been happy, she was sure of that. So it made sense that if, at some low point, she stupidly tried to kill herself, she would have called the man she loved, Buck Hamilton, because there hadn’t been anyone else to call.

  “So you think Buck, convinced that I needed help, took me to a mental hospital and had me locked up? Wouldn’t there be a record of it? And if there was, you know the media would have found it by now.�
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  “We’re talking about Buckmaster Hamilton.”

  “He wasn’t that powerful twenty-two years ago.” He might not even have been that powerful today. Sarah paced the small kitchen. “So your theory is that Buck had me locked up in some...institution all these years?”

  Russell said nothing as he pulled out a chair at the kitchen table.

  “And what? I escaped? That still doesn’t explain why I can’t remember those years, why my last memory of Beartooth is the birth of my twins.”

  Russell sat up straighter, leaning toward her as he spoke. “That was your last good memory. Whatever happened occurred after that. It’s why you can’t remember it.”

  She shook her head. None of this made any sense.

  “What if I’m right and he had your memories...wiped away? It’s called brain wiping,” he said, rushing on before she could stop him. “It’s not science fiction. It’s being used in treating patients with horrible memories that have kept them from living full lives.”

  “You can’t believe that Buck would have my brain wiped.” She felt horrified at the thought.

  “Even back before he became a senator, he had friends in high places.”

  “Buck is not a monster, and only a monster would...” She couldn’t even bring herself to say it.

  Russell rose but stayed where he was, as if he realized the last thing she wanted him to do was touch her right now. She was scared. Scared that he might be right.

  “Just think about it,” he said cajolingly. “Even you can’t imagine what would have made you leave your six daughters. But I’m betting your husband knows.”

  She shook her head in disbelief or denial. She couldn’t tell which.

  “With modern science, memories can be created—and erased. It’s possible now to wipe out only certain memories. Doesn’t that feel like what has happened to you?”

  She crossed her arms, chilled. “You don’t know Buck.”

  “No, but do you? These memories you have of him—how can you be sure that they’re even real?”

  Tears welled in her eyes. “If you’re right, I don’t want ever to remember.”

  “But you are remembering, and whatever it is you’re seeing, I know it’s scaring you.”

  She swallowed and made a swipe at a tear that had rolled down her cheek. “Think about what you’re saying about the man I married. Even with me showing up like I did, Buck’s popularity in the polls is still strong. Maybe even stronger since people see him as a saint for supporting two wives. Unless he pulls out of the race, Buckmaster Hamilton is going to be our next president.”

  “Exactly, and if I’m right about him, then I hate to think what kind of president he’s going to be. It terrifies me. Doesn’t it you?”

  Sarah shook her head. “I had six children with the man. I know him. He isn’t the monster you want to make him out to be.”

  “I hear your words of denial, but I know you’re scared. Because if I’m right, you and I both know he can’t let you remember. If he thought you were starting to...”

  Sarah shuddered, tears again filling her eyes, as she looked at him. “Buck would never hurt me.”

  “He already has.”

  She fought what Russell was saying. She still loved Buckmaster Hamilton. But if she was wrong, then trusting him would be her downfall—and Russell’s, too, if he didn’t quit digging into the past.

  * * *

  BUCKMASTER COULDN’T SLEEP. He stood in the darkness on the deck outside his bedroom, looking at the Crazies. He could just make out the silhouette of the towering snowcapped mountain range against the dark sky. The formidable range dominated its surroundings, covering six hundred square miles.

  He had always lived in its shadow. At fifteen miles wide and forty miles long, its highest point, Crazy Peak, rose to over eleven thousand feet. It was the kind of place a person could disappear into without a trace—and had.

  Buckmaster had heard several explanations as to how the mountain range had gotten its name. The mountains were rumored to have scared the first Native Americans who ventured into them. One story was that they named the range Crazy Mountains for the maniacal storms that raged in the unforgiving terrain. Another story was that the Crow Indians called them the Crazy Woman Mountains because of a woman who went insane and lived in them after her family was killed during the westward settlement movement.

  All he knew was that he had great respect for the wilderness beyond his ranch. And right now, his daughter was back in there somewhere. Had Jace Calder found her? Buckmaster feared he’d made a mistake by not calling the sheriff and sending up a posse to bring her back. The only reason he hadn’t was that it was premature. He needed to give his daughter a chance to come back on her own given the current situation. He had faith that she would.

  He’d never worried about his girls taking horseback camping trips into the mountains. When they were young, he’d go with them. The Crazies were his daughters’ backyard. They probably knew those mountains better than he did.

  That’s why he told himself not to worry. But he couldn’t help his growing panic. Bo was in trouble. If not up on the mountain, definitely back at the foundation. He’d thought about calling the auditor, but he didn’t want it to appear that he didn’t trust his daughter. As much as he would have liked to try to fix things for her, he knew Bo would never forgive him. None of the board members had been contacted yet. As long as Bo returned by tomorrow... But what if she didn’t?

  “Do you know what time it is?” Angelina asked.

  “Do I care what time it is?” he returned as she joined him on the deck. She’d pulled on a robe and stood hugging herself from the cold. Even Montana summers were chilly at night. They were even colder up in the mountains. “I didn’t mean to wake you. Go back to bed.”

  “You didn’t wake me,” she said, looking toward the Crazies. “I can’t sleep, either.”

  “You can’t be worried about Bo.”

  “Why not?” she asked, looking over him. “Do you really think I am so cold and uncaring that I’m not worried about her, too?”

  She’d never bonded with his daughters, who called her the Ice Queen behind her back. He’d thought the nickname apt, actually. “If she isn’t back by tomorrow noon, I’m calling the sheriff.”

  He’d expected Angelina to put up a fight. She often complained that his daughters did everything possible to interfere with his political career.

  But she said nothing as she looked toward the mountains and visibly shivered. Was she thinking of Bo up there, possibly hurt, alone and scared? He’d certainly imagined that—and worse.

  “Come to bed.”

  He glanced at her, surprised by the tenderness in her tone. Even more surprised by the touch of her hand. Three months of sleeping on his own side of the bed made him ache for a woman’s soft, supple body. Desire stirred in him.

  But it was Sarah he wanted naked against him. It had always been Sarah. He closed his eyes against the pain of loving a woman he could no longer have.

  Angelina took his hand. He let her lead him back into the dark bedroom.

  * * *

  RAY COOKED A can of beans over the fire, adding some dried meat and a wild onion. “Used to come up here with my old man,” he said as he stirred. The large metal spoon clinked against the side of the equally battered pan. She wondered where he’d gotten the supplies. The pan was black with soot as if it had been used over many campfires—and not just in the past three weeks.

  “My old man’d talked about livin’ up here,” he was saying. “He was gonna build a cabin way back in where nobody’d ever find us.”

  So he knew these mountains, she realized as her heart dropped into her empty, growling stomach. He’d grown up on the other side of the drainage, he’d told her.

  “I was huntin’ by th
e time I could hold a rifle. I weren’t never as good as my old man, though. He just don’t miss. That’s why they made him a sniper when he joined up in the service.”

  She heard pride in his voice, and both awe and something else. Fear?

  “I growed up eatin’ venison year-round. Never ate no beef ’til I left home. Hell, elk was as fancy as it got at our house.”

  Bo let him talk as she watched him. He seemed agitated. She took that as a bad sign. Things could go seriously wrong yet tonight.

  “Here,” he said, shoving the handle of the pot into her hand. “Ya eat what ya want first. Just leave me a little.”

  She took the spoon he offered her. It didn’t matter that it was canned beans. She would have eaten anything at this point. She was ravenous. Her stomach growled loudly, making him smile.

  “I’m a pretty good cook. Not this, but once we get settled way back where no one’ll come lookin’ for us, I’ll kill what we need. There’s grouse up here, deer, elk, even bears.” He sounded excited about the prospect. “Ya can grow a garden. I can get ya seeds. I can get ya whatever ya need.”

  Bo blew on the spoonful of beans and took a bite. They tasted slightly burned but, starving as she was, she gobbled spoonful after spoonful as he talked about his plans for the two of them.

  “I can’t never go back down there, not to live, but that ain’t really livin’ anyway, you know what I mean? I’m happiest up here in the mountains. Ya must be, too, or ya wouldn’t a come up here.”

  She could feel his eyes searching her face. She took another bite of the beans. She could hardly keep her eyes open. The warm beans hit her stomach and made her even more sleepy. He seemed more relaxed, too. She could only hope he would leave her alone tonight.

  After a few more bites, she handed him the pot and spoon.

  “Ya rest. We gotta git up early and travel a lot farther tomorrow,” he said after he’d finished off the meal. “But ’til we understand each other...” He picked up the rope from the ground.