Rocky Mountain Lawman

by Rachel Lee

  He handed her a mug and she cradled it in her hands, welcoming the heat. The stove was keeping the cabin warm, but for some reason, despite the actual temperature inside, whenever it got chilly outside her hands grew cold. Almost as if her body were adapting even though it didn’t need to.

  Craig pulled a bench over and sat close to her. “You said Hector cheated on you?”

  “Yes.” Then she blurted, “Worse than that. He said I was a lousy lay.” She almost wanted to crawl under the floorboards as the words escaped her.

  Craig swore quietly. “So basically he gutted you. By cheating, by claiming you didn’t pay enough attention to him and by attacking you as a lover. That pretty much cover it?”

  She nodded, but she didn’t dare look at him. Not at this instant. She’d just revealed one of her deepest scars and she felt more vulnerable than she’d ever felt on a too-quiet street in Iraq when they knew there were snipers around.

  An odd thought, but one that told her she might be taking what Hector said way too hard.

  “So he wanted you to pay more attention to him.”

  She nodded.

  “Selfish. And you know what else that tells me?”

  “No.”

  “The only lousy lovers I’ve ever run into were the selfish ones. I’d stake a year’s pay that Hector was the lousy lover. Selfish. If you can stand it, think back over what it was like with him. I’d willingly bet that it was all about him. All of it.”

  “I don’t know,” she whispered. That revealed a whole lot, too.

  “Was he your first?”

  “My only.”

  “Then don’t take his word for a damn thing. This whole picture says that Hector was the center of the universe and that anyone who didn’t appreciate that fact wasn’t good enough for him. How much time did he really spend trying to please you?”

  She couldn’t answer that, but the question made her start thinking. Other than the earliest days with him, she did seem to remember always trying to please him, and often failing miserably. Was that because of him or her? She didn’t know.

  Craig reached out for her hand and squeezed it. “I’m no lothario, although there may have been a time when I was younger that I strove for the title.”

  Out of the miasma of despair that had been filling her, she felt an irrepressible little bubble of humor. At last she was able to look at him. His expression was gentle. Kind.

  “I’ve had more experience than you,” he said frankly. “I’ve grown up a lot since then and I’m much more selective now. I can still say with absolute certainty that the only lousy lover is a selfish one. Inexperience can be surmounted but not selfishness. So quit beating yourself up over what one selfish guy said. I mean, for the love of Pete, he was cheating, demanding all your attention, and you’d believe him when he blamed you for not playing the planet to his sun?”

  That was some way to put it, she thought. Her heart was lifting, thanks to him, and she turned her hand so she could squeeze his back.

  He half smiled. “Anyway, you think about it, but one thing I can promise you. I’m spending this day with you because I want to. Not because I think you need protection, or anything else. Just because I want to enjoy a day with you.”

  “Even just doing puzzles?”

  A truncated laugh escaped him. “Even just doing puzzles. If you decide to take down the no-trespassing signs, don’t be surprised if I pounce. You’ve got my motor humming, woman.”

  Then he leaned over, brushed a kiss on her cheek, before rising to grab his jacket and hat. “I’m going outside for a minute,” he said. “You need a little space after that heart-to-heart.”

  Did she? Part of her wanted him to stay right beside her, but as his words sank in, she also felt an internal earthquake taking place. It was like some sci-fi movie, where heavy walls started to move, only they weren’t closing in and threatening her. They were opening, providing new space.

  She could almost feel her heart and soul expanding.

  She was also almost afraid to believe him. Could it really have all been Hector? That seemed unlikely. No one person was ever entirely at fault for a broken relationship....

  That thought drew her up short, as if someone had jerked her. No one person was at fault? Then why had she been so convinced that she and she alone was at fault for what happened with Hector? Because she had certainly swallowed the idea completely.

  But in reality...in reality maybe not. Probably not. Memories began to sift up through the sands of time, reminding her that Hector hadn’t been the most devoted of partners in anything.

  In fact, as she reflected, she realized she had ceded an awful lot to him, more than she had ever ceded before or since. Maybe she had been uncertain during her transition back to civilian life. Maybe she had been trying to relearn “normal” life, as distinct from her military life, and had lost her footing. But certainly by the time she got involved with Hector, she had been putty in his hands. Well, not entirely. But maybe too much.

  She had refused to give up her job, or cut back on the hours. She had refused to give up her painting, too. Which had given him plenty of wedge to use against her about everything else. Maybe she had even been set up for that as a child, when she had been taught over and over that her wishes about anything didn’t matter. That she wasn’t even entitled to have any wishes.

  Regardless, she’d left that situation to go into the military, which had given her tons of confidence in some ways, but had also taught her that her wishes and desires didn’t matter. It had been easy for her to follow orders. Hell, that was how she had been raised.

  So she had come back from a war, eventually gotten out of the service, gone through some therapy of her own to deal with the trauma, then moved out into the civilian world.

  As a woman who still didn’t feel she was entitled to any wishes or wants of her own.

  Damn! Oh, she could get all tough and insistent about things she had learned to deal with in the military, like those guys across the valley, about not leaving a buddy alone, about not doing a solo recon, but when it came to anything else she couldn’t even decide whether to have her eggs scrambled or fried, at least not when anyone else was involved.

  She almost cringed to remember how many times she had said, “I don’t care,” or “Whatever you like,” to Hector and her friends. Oh, man!

  But before she cringed, she remembered that she hadn’t ceded ground on her job or her art. Somewhere in there she still had a backbone.

  So she must have seemed almost perfect to Hector, who wanted everything his way. A calm certainty settled over her. Hector had been selfish. Craig was right about that. But she had refused to give in on her work or her painting. No wonder he had gone looking for someone else, someone far more adoring. Someone much more malleable than she had turned out to be.

  Understanding rushed through her, and it felt so damn good. She had strength, and if she had that strength she could grow more.

  The kernel of determination that she had never entirely lost swelled and grew its first shoot. She could come back from this and get over it. She became sure of it.

  The cabin door opened and Craig poked his head in. “We’ve got company coming. You want me to keep them out here?”

  “Who? And no, I’m fine.” She said the last firmly, and with a real smile. “Thanks.”

  “I don’t know who yet. I hear the engine.” He came inside and reached for the gunbelt he’d left on the shelf. She watched him strap it around his narrow hips.

  “Want me to get the shotgun?”

  He didn’t argue with whether she should, and she was grateful that he didn’t treat her like some incapable ditz.

  “Not yet. I want to see who it is first. I’ll signal if I want backup. By the way, it’s loaded.” Then he vanished outside.

  Backup. The word warmed her, and strength filled her. In some areas she had no doubts about herself, and apparently he didn’t either. It felt like balm.

  Rising, she picked a
position where she could see out the window without being obvious to anyone outside, a position near the shotgun, a Mossberg autoloader. An excellent weapon.

  Now she could hear the engine, too, even through the thick log walls. Moments later she recognized the official SUV of the Conard County sheriff’s department. She saw Craig relax and relaxed herself.

  Amazing, she thought. When first she had met him, Craig had seemed as relaxed as any person she had ever met. Apparently the Buddy thing was getting to him more than he let on. She bet he didn’t usually respond this way to the sound of an engine.

  Craig was a big man, but the deputy who climbed out from behind the wheel was even bigger. His Native American heritage was stamped plain on his face, and from beneath his tan Stetson flowed long black hair streaked with some gray. Not exactly a regulation cut, but she suspected that didn’t matter to him, and probably not to anyone else he worked with. From the other side appeared a tall, young deputy, maybe about Craig’s age. She went outside to greet them because it seemed friendlier.

  Craig tossed her a smile. “Sky, meet Micah Parish.” The huge deputy, a man who appeared to be in his late fifties, reached out to shake her hand. “Howdy,” he said.

  “And this is Doug Madsen.”

  The younger man stepped forward and shook her hand, as well. He had icy blue eyes but a warm smile.

  “Come in,” Sky said. “I’ll make some fresh coffee.”

  The three men filled the cabin. It was good that Craig had rolled up the sleeping bags that morning, because there wouldn’t have been room to stand. Once the coffee was done, they settled in, insisting Sky take the armchair. Craig perched on one bench, Micah on the other. Doug stood leaning against a wall.

  Conversation had been casual, kind of bouncing around, but once they were all settled with coffee, things got serious.

  “You know Gage was out at the Jackson place a few days ago?” Micah asked.

  “Yeah, he said he was going.”

  “Well, our sheriff hasn’t lost all his DEA skills. He came away with some photos.”

  Craig straightened. “Buddy let him?”

  “Hell, Buddy didn’t know. There are some really small cameras these days. Not that it matters. Buddy welcomed him and showed him around a bit. Plain view doctrine. No permission necessary. Gage got some interesting stuff here.”

  He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a thick manila envelope. “He can email you any of these you want. Quality off the printer isn’t as good. But we got one absolutely fascinating thing.”

  He pulled out a piece of paper, unfolded it and pushed it across the table. “Face recognition told us who this Cap guy is.”

  Craig leaned forward to read, and gave a low whistle. “Well, hot damn. I wonder if Buddy has any idea what followed him home.”

  Sky rose immediately. “What?” she asked.

  When Micah hesitated, Craig said, “She’s army, too.”

  “Too?” Sky repeated.

  Craig answered. “Micah’s retired Special Forces. Doug was a ranger. I think we’re all pretty much on the same team here.”

  Then he handed her the paper to read.

  Chapter 9

  “They’re not wants or warrants,” Micah said as she scanned the paper. “But apparently Cap—Captain Les MacDonald—has a checkered history.”

  He most definitely did, Sky thought as she scanned the printout, starting with a dishonorable discharge from the army. After that, he’d apparently been on the fringes of a number of dubious activities, from illegal arms sales to drugs, but had never been directly implicated. He was a “person of interest” in past cases, but then his record went blank for four years. “He’s dangerous,” she said, handing the paper back and sinking into the armchair.

  “So it would appear,” Micah agreed. “Just how dangerous we don’t know. Some things aren’t there but Gage sniffed them out. He’s been hanging around with a white supremacist group. Apparently only on the fringes. The guy is real cautious about not getting too deep into anything.”

  She nodded. “But he’s learning.”

  “That’s our feeling,” Micah agreed. “A great addition to our county. I’m just wondering why he attached to Buddy and moved to the back of beyond.”

  “Takeover,” Craig said. “Buddy must have talked too much to this guy at some point, and he saw an opportunity to move in and run the show. The question is what kind of show.”

  A silence fell over the cabin, punctuated only by the occasional drumbeat of rain on the roof and by the popping of burning wood in the fireplace.

  Craig spoke again. “Do we know anything about his military background?”

  “Sketchy,” Doug answered. “He tried for the rangers and couldn’t make the grade. Then he wanted airborne and didn’t make it through jump school.”

  “So either somebody saw something in him that they distrusted, or he just isn’t capable,” Craig said.

  Sky spoke next. “Failures like that can turn someone into a problem. They’ve got something to prove.”

  “He’s not going to prove it here,” Micah said emphatically. “We’ll keep you posted. Gage is looking for a way to go over Buddy’s place with a fine-tooth comb, but I doubt he’ll get it. He talked to ATF, but they need more. So here we are. You two just be careful, hear?”

  He checked to see if Craig wanted any of the other photos, but he declined. “There’s nothing there, really. I need to see with my own eyes.”

  Micah stuffed everything back into the envelope. “Like I said, you be careful. Right now this Cap guy looks unpredictable. At some point he’s bound to move from the fringes into outright action to prove something, as Sky here said. Let’s hope he moves on before he does anything bad.”

  The two deputies left, and the heavens continued to weep. Back inside the cabin, Sky felt chilled, and not because it wasn’t warm enough inside.

  “Trouble,” she said. “That guy is trouble.”

  “I agree.”

  “Buddy and his family could be in the most trouble of all.”

  Craig frowned. “Maybe. But right now I think the Jackson family is good cover for Cap and whatever he hopes to accomplish. Gage’s visit achieved something else.”

  “Which is?”

  “Cap now knows that the sheriff drops by from time to time. It would look really bad if a deputy dropped by and the whole Jackson family wasn’t around, if you get my drift. So he needs the cover. Maybe they’re part of his plan. Hell, at this point I can’t even be certain Buddy isn’t fully on board with whatever Cap might want. One thing for sure, I’m moving Buddy out of the perfectly-harmless-nut category. He might not be so harmless after all.”

  Sky didn’t disagree. The cabin no longer felt like a cozy bulwark against the dismal day outside. Rising, she went to pull a cardigan out of her duffel and pulled it on, wrapping it tightly around herself. Inactivity didn’t suit her, so she began to pace, no easy feat on the small amount of bare floor, hardly bigger than a king-size bed.

  She was having a feeling that she recognized from Iraq all those years ago, when she had learned in the most unforgettable way possible that no place was safe, not for an instant, not for a moment, not even on a base.

  Exaggeration, she told herself. This wasn’t Iraq, and she didn’t even know if there was an enemy. And Cap, while he might be looking to prove something, had no reason to prove it at the expense of Craig or her. No reason.

  “He’s got what, four guys?” she asked aloud.

  “Cap? Three, maybe four. No army, that’s for sure. We’ll have to see if others show up.”

  “Yeah.” A handful of men. A handful of men they could identify, which was extremely important as she had learned in a war where anyone could be a combatant and most didn’t wear uniforms.

  All of a sudden, strong arms wound around her from behind. Holding her snugly, halting her pacing. For an instant she wanted to pull away because the need to keep moving was powerful. A leftover instinct of some kin
d.

  “Easy, Sky,” he said. “It’s going to be okay. It’s a small group of fringe types. We can deal with it.”

  “I know.” She forced herself to relax, releasing a sigh as she did so. “I know. But it still feels creepy.”

  “I agree with you there. But creepy isn’t a threat assessment, is it.”

  In spite of it all, she had relaxed enough to laugh. A weak laugh, but genuine. “You’re right,” she said as she turned within the circle of his arms to face him.

  He smiled down at her. “Remember, this Cap has failed at everything. And managed to anger somebody enough that he got a dishonorable discharge. I’d be more worried if it had been for medical reasons.”

  “Why?”

  “Crazy.”

  She laughed again, more easily this time. “I didn’t think of that. So we can be reasonably certain he’s not that far over the edge.”

  “Yeah, it takes a lot to get discharged for mental illness. Hell, they wouldn’t even let go of guys with severe post-traumatic stress disorder. I figure Cap is a guy with an inflated sense of himself. He’s more apt to screw up by thinking he’s better than he is or by overreaching.”

  “That’s possible.” But even as she answered, she realized that her uneasiness with the situation was slipping away, being rapidly replaced by awareness of the man whose arms were around her. He held her loosely; she could have moved away, but she didn’t want to.

  What had he said earlier, about her having warning signs that popped up? Had she been putting him off without realizing it? Did she want to keep putting him off?

  No. The answer was clear in her own mind, in her body, and it didn’t carry one iota of doubt with it. She might be making one of the worst mistakes of her life, but she didn’t believe it. Craig wasn’t Hector, not in any regard. Two men couldn’t have been more different.

  This man intuitively understood her land mines and her scars. He probably even shared some of them, although he didn’t talk about them.

  Nothing could come of this, but she didn’t seem to care anymore. Just a fling. She could survive a fling. There was, however, an imperative question she needed to have answered: Was she a lousy lover?