Brides of Banff Springs
Page 13
“Bother?” The blue eyes narrowed. “He’s not treated you disrespectful, has he?”
“Oh, no, nothing like that.” Tilly blushed as she understood his meaning. “It’s just that I’m not going to be working at the hotel anymore, and I’m hoping he might know where I might get another job and somewhere to stay.”
George rubbed his hand over his chin. His day-old bristles made a rustling sound under each rub. “Kin you handle a pitchfork ‘n brush a horse?”
“Yes to the pitchfork,” Tilly said with a smile, “but I’m more used to mules than horses.”
“Are you now?” George cocked his head, looking at her with interest, then smacked his mug down on the desk as if making a decision. “Come with me.”
Tilly took another quick sip of her coffee before following George to one of the stalls.
“This here’s Molly,” he said as he stood aside for Tilly to look in.
Standing with its head down in the corner was the most dejected looking animal Tilly had ever seen.
“She’s lost an awful lot of condition.” Tilly ran a practised eye over the jutting shoulder blade and just-showing ribs. “What’s wrong with her?”
“She’s mournin’.”
“Oh, dear.” Tilly edged into the stall, aware of the fact that a mule could kick not just backwards, but forwards, and to the side as well, but the mule never moved. “Who is she mourning?”
“Her cat. She’s been pals with a three-legged stray we’ve had around here for years. Darn thing goes off every now and then and comes back with a belly full of kittens. She always has them in Molly’s stall, but this time something went wrong. She died a few days ago after birthing just one. I found it in the morning and Molly’s been off her feed since. Only lips at her water and hasn’t even tried to bite me.”
“That bad, huh?” Tilly moved up to the mule’s shoulder. “You poor girl. I know what it’s like to lose someone you love.” She laid her hand on the mule’s neck and saw the slightest twitch in one of Molly’s ears. “It’s too bad we can’t explain things to you.”
She continued to talk quietly, ran her hand over the dark brown hide then scratched along the top of the mule’s neck. There was no response from Molly.
“If you want a job,” George continued quietly, “help me get her interested in life again. She’s a good girl and I’d hate to lose her too. We’ve got a couple other barn cats round here for mousing, but Molly don’t take to any of them, and they’re all toms anyway. Maybe ‘cause you’re female she might just connect. Will you give it a try?”
Tilly nodded as she continued to run her hands over Molly’s shoulder and back. “Have you got a brush I can use?”
“Sure.” George shuffled off and came back a moment later with a bucket of grooming tools. “Can’t do anything ‘bout a place for you to stay right now, but the boys might know of something round town.”
“Thanks, George.” Tilly produced a shaky smile as she selected a brush from the bucket. “I’ll stay with her for a bit, and then I’ll start on the stalls. Do you want them done in any particular order?”
“Nope, though it’ll be easier to do the empty stalls first. Pitchforks and barrows are in the hay stall opposite the office.”
He tipped his hat and she heard his boots scuffing on the floor as he left her and the mule alone. Tilly continued with the stroking and scratching then started working the brush down the mule’s dark brown neck.
“Missing your kitty, are you?” she said softly. One of the long, hairy ears swivelled slightly. She swiped the brush down Molly’s neck again. “I know what that’s like. I loved my dad and my mom and miss them like crazy. I try not to let it show because it’s nobody’s grief but mine. Dad’s not been gone long, but I was only seven when mom died. She’d lost two babies already when she got caught with a third.”
Tilly ran the brush down Molly’s shoulder, following with a long sweep of her hand. The mule’s hair was soft and a little dusty. She continued brushing and blew softly between her lips so that she didn’t get any of the dust in her mouth. Brush. Hand. Shush. She repeated each movement slowly and steadily, noticing that Molly had dropped a hip and nearly closed her eyes. Her long, dark lashes fluttered as she blinked sleepily.
“Dad treated Mom like a queen,” Tilly continued, “and we did everything we could so that she could just rest, but then the baby came early and she started bleeding. I’ll never know if I had a brother or a sister, because mom died with the baby still in her. By the time the doctor came out from town we’d buried them. So you see, I understand how sad you are.”
Tilly buried her hands in the mule’s thick, stiff mane. Tears for all she had lost coursed down her cheeks, ran off her chin and dripped onto Molly’s neck. She quickly scrubbed her face dry with the back of her hand.
“See, we’re not so different, Molly,” she whispered into the mule’s ear. “So I’ll just cry for the both of us.”
Startled by a noise in the aisle, Tilly look over her shoulder. Was George there? Had he heard her? She hoped not. She gave Molly a final pat and fetched a pitchfork and a barrow. The job George had given her was a routine that came to her easily but, before long, she was warmed enough to remove and hang up her jacket. The work continued down one side of the barn and then she started back up the other. She even found it easier than she expected to work around the horses, finding that the big Percherons and the pair of Belgians were especially amenable. She had just finished cleaning a bay gelding’s stall when George called to her from the aisle.
“You’d better come see this, miss, ‘cause I’m not quite sure I’m seeing it myself.”
She peered around the gelding’s hindquarters, only to see Molly, with her ears pricked, looking out of her stall. Tilly went to her, put her arms around the animal’s neck and gave her a hug.
“Don’t know what you said to her, but I reckon she’s payin’ you attention. Could be just a girl thing though.” George grinned at her. “I pity those poor boys if they have to contend with you two.”
“Go on, George, you’re just teasing.” Tilly grinned back, enjoying the moment. “Those poor boys, as you call them, are quite able to stand up for themselves.”
George had made another pot of coffee and Tilly was happy to take a seat in the snug little office. She looked up at the clock on the wall, surprised to see how quickly the day had passed.
“Ryan’s due back any time now.” George’s little smirk told her he’d guessed why she’d been checking the clock. He poured more coffee. “Tell you what, when he gets back, I’ll take care of his party and he can come talk to you.”
“Thanks,” Tilly shook her head. “But if I know Ryan he’ll want to do all that himself.”
A clatter of hooves made them both look out of the office. The big blue roan horse almost filled the doorway and Tuff came running in, his tail wagging as he greeted her and George. Tilly heard Ryan laugh and then, amidst several other voices, Billy joined in.
“Sounds like another bunch of happy customers,” George said as he ruffled the dog’s ears. “They’re dentists from Seattle who are all keen mountain climbers. Wasn’t sure how it would work, seeing as this was Ryan’s first trip as a guide.”
Tilly looked at George in surprise. “I didn’t think he was going to do get his guide’s license until next year.”
George shrugged a shoulder. “We had two guides out already, but I didn’t want to let the customers down and figured those two could handle it.” He winked at her and grinned. “We’ll take care of the paperwork later.”
She followed George outside where the party milled around, shaking hands with Ryan and Billy and generally seeming well satisfied. A bearded, bespectacled, gentleman left the group and strode towards George.
“Just wanted you to know,” he said, “what a fine young man Ryan Blake is. Bit of a walking encyclopedia, but I learnt more about the area on this trip than any other. Make sure you keep him on, because we want him again next year.”
The gentleman nodded and returned to his group while George beckoned for Tilly to join him.
“We’ll leave the packs to the boys,” he said, “but you can help me take care of these horses. Think you can do that?”
Tilly nodded and stepped up to help unsaddle the horses before turning them into the corral. A cold wind had blown up and they shuffled around before settling themselves alongside the corral fence, using it as a windbreak. George looked up at the sky.
“I’d say they got back just in time. Looks like a storm’s blowin’ in.”
Clouds had dropped over the mountain tops, obliterating the peaks and boiling down into the valleys. Tilly shivered as she walked into the barn where Billy and Ryan were checking the contents of a pack. Both looked up at the sound of her footsteps.
Ryan took one look at her and pushed the pack-horse out of his way. “What’s wrong?”
The worry in his eyes almost started her crying again. “Everything and nothing.”
“She needs to talk to you, lad,” George said. “Go use the office and I’ll finish up here with Billy.”
“Thanks, George.” Ryan put his arm around her and Tilly leaned in to him. Just the warmth of his body made her feel everything would be all right. She looked in on Molly as they passed her stall and was relieved to see the mule munching on a stack of hay.
“You and your darn mules,” Ryan teased as he hugged her.
She sat down by the stove while Ryan poured coffee. She shook her head when he offered her the mug and he sat it on the desk.
“I’ve been drinking coffee since I got here this morning. It was pretty strong then, and I don’t think I could handle it now.”
Ryan pulled out a chair and sat facing her while Tuff lay down under the desk. “Tell me what happened.”
“Do you remember telling me that Frederic Vanderoosten was as mean as a rattlesnake?” As soon as she mentioned the name, Ryan stiffened and Tilly caught his hand and gave it a squeeze. “I’m all right, really, but I did something that made him mad and he struck back in a really sneaky way. He got me fired by having me accused of stealing a guest’s ring. Now I’ve got no job and nowhere to live. I don’t know what to do.”
“We’ll sort something out,” he assured her. “First, somewhere to stay. It’s not much, but you can use our bunk house. Pete’s still out with a week-long pack trip for another couple of nights, and Billy and I can bunk down in the barn here. But what did you do?”
“I can’t tell you all of it, not yet, but I found out that he’d hurt Burma. They’d had an argument and he almost throttled her. Her neck was badly bruised. Fliss had warned me that he had a bit of a reputation from last year and to stay out of his way. I thought I had, but he followed me and threatened me and…,” Tilly paused and swallowed hard. “I punched him and knocked him out.”
Ryan’s mouth fell open as he looked at her in wide-eyed surprise. Then he started to laugh.
“It wasn’t funny—,” Tilly snapped, but his rolling laughter gradually relieved her tension and she managed a small smile. “Well, maybe it was a little bit funny. It was certainly the last thing he expected.”
Ryan stood up and pulled her up with him. “So now I know what I’m up against.”
“Do you still want to marry me now you know I have a temper and a fist to match it?”
He kissed the tip of her nose and whispered, “More than ever.”
She put her arms around him and knew she was right where she belonged. She could have stayed right where she was, but the telephone rang.
“Darn it,” Ryan muttered and reached for the disobliging instrument. He listened for a moment and then handed her the telephone. “It’s Miss Richards.”
Tilly took the handset as if it were going to bite her and hesitantly put it to her ear.
“Hello?”
Miss Richards didn’t waste any time returning the greeting. “Tilly, we have a little problem. It may have something to do with this morning, or it may not.” There was a slight hesitation then the words came in a rush. “Miss Evans is missing and Felicity thinks you might know where she has gone.”
“Why would Fliss think I’d know that?” Tilly asked.
“Apparently you spent a great deal of time with Miss Evans.” Disapproval fairly dripped down the telephone line. “Do you have any idea what her plans were? Did she mention cancelling her wedding? Her father is arriving tomorrow and I don’t know whether I should telephone ahead and warn him, or simply wait until he gets here.”
At the mention of Mr. Evans, Tilly had a sudden thought. “Burma wanted to go to a place called Sundance Canyon, but I don’t know where it is. Could you wait one moment?” Ryan had caught her eye and gave her a thumbs-up sign. Tilly spoke into the telephone again. “One of the guides here knows where it is. We’ll go out there and see if we can find any sign of her.”
Promising to keep in touch, Tilly ended the call and followed Ryan out of the office. “Is it far? Can we drive there?”
“No, it’s not far. Maybe a couple of miles, and no, we can’t drive there. It’s a trail.” Ryan strode to the door of the barn and looked outside. He slapped the door frame in frustration. “We’ll have to ride and take a pack-horse too.”
“Why would we have to do that if it’s only a couple of miles?” Tilly came to stand beside him.
“For one thing, it’s late in the day.” He hooked his thumbs into the belt loops on his denims as he faced her. “For another, the temperature’s dropping and I won’t risk being caught in the open without gear. Another couple of degrees colder and it’ll be snowing.”
The instant the words were out of his mouth, the first white flakes began to fall.
Chapter Twenty
“But it’s only August!” Tilly stepped outside and held out her hand. Each flake, as light as a feather and as big around as a fifty-cent piece, alighted on her palm and immediately melted.
“You’re in the mountains now.” Ryan tugged his bandana up under his chin and buttoned his coat. “The weather can change in the blink of an eye. You’d better button up too, and put your gloves on. I don’t want you with hands so cold you can’t feel or hold on to anything. Grab hats and slickers for yourself and Burma while I get the horses ready.”
The thud of a hoof as it connected with the wooden partition, then the clang of a bucket rolling in the aisle, drew Tilly’s attention. Molly’s furry ears were pricked as she watched the activity with bright, dark eyes. She began to bray loudly, her flanks sawing in and out with the effort.
“Looks like she wants to go with you,” George commented. “Too bad I don’t have a saddle that will fit her.”
“That doesn’t matter,” Tilly said. “I’m used to riding with just a saddle pad tied on with rope. Can Cayuse carry a pack?”
“Sure he can, but I’d rather have him saddled.” Ryan reached beneath Grulla’s belly and caught the cinch. “If we find Burma, I’m sure she’d appreciate the ride. I can take what we need in the saddlebags and tied on to the saddles.”
Between them, George and Billy transferred items from the pack-boxes into the saddlebags then tied bedrolls and tarps onto the saddles. Tilly bridled Molly and threw the saddle pad and a blanket onto the mule’s back, securing it with a girth George took from a driving harness. Ryan tied Cayuse’s lead rope to his saddle horn then mounted Grulla.
“You all take care. I’m sure you’ll find Miss Evans in fine fettle,” George said as he waved them all off.
Tilly wasn’t so sure about that as they set out. She had everything she needed. A sturdy mule, warm clothes, and a considerate guide. What did Burma have? Hopefully, she at least dressed appropriately and maybe had a rain slicker and some food in a backpack.
They passed the Cave and Basin, the gray stone walls surrounding it almost oblite
rated now by the fast-falling snow. Ryan had his head down but, unlike her it, was not to protect her face, but to look for any tracks, any sign that Burma had come this way.
“She might have followed the trail that’s below this one,” Ryan said, “but we should be able to pick it up where the two join.”
He rode ahead, scanning the ground on either side of the trail. Tuff, his thick coat beginning to collect snow like a blanket, trotted along behind Grulla. Where the trails met, Ryan halted and dismounted.
“What’s the matter?” Tilly watched anxiously as he peered at the ground around him.
“I can’t see any trace of her and this snow’s not helping because it’s settling too fast.”
Tilly reined Molly to one side to let Ryan pass as he backtracked. He muttered to himself as he scanned the trail for any sign of Burma. Tilly said nothing. Surely Burma wouldn’t have gone off trail, would she?
“I don’t know how I could have missed this.” Ryan sounded disgusted with himself. “See here in the mud on the edge of the trail? It’s a bit sheltered by this overhanging brush and hasn’t collected much snow. These footprints are small enough to be hers. She’s gone into the bush, darn her. Whatever could she have been thinking? Doesn’t she know it’s not safe out here for a lone hiker?”
“Likely not.” Tilly waited while Ryan, having picked up Burma’s trail again, swung up into Grulla’s saddle. “The trouble with Burma is that she doesn’t think.”
“And that’s going to get us in a whole lot of trouble.” Ryan continued squinting at the ground. “Ah, here’s the same footprint coming back out of the bush. I think this is her trail.” Tilly looked where he pointed and saw the narrow print, the heel deeper than the toe. “Does that look like it could be a print from any of her shoes?”
Tilly tried to picture all the boots and shoes she had seen in Burma’s closet. “She has a pair of brown leather lace-up boots with a little heel. I think she used those for walking.”
Ryan nodded. “That sounds likely. There’s not much daylight left, but I can see her tracks now so we’re heading in the right direction. Are you doing okay back there?”