by B. J Daniels
As he lifted his face to the wind, he smelled the smoke. At first he thought it was coming from the dead cow but the wind was blowing the wrong direction. He caught a strong whiff of it, his gut tightening at the horrible memory of the scent of burned flesh.
In an instant, the snow obliterated everything. He called to the men, his voice swept away by the wind and the whirling snow. He lost sight of them, of the cattle herd below him. But he could smell the smoke now, even stronger than before.
He turned his horse back toward the cabin, riding as fast as he could with the visibility quickly dropping to nothing.
The snow whirled around him, huge smothering flakes of ice and cold that turned his world white, making him quickly lose his sense of direction.
He’d heard stories all his life about ranchers who’d gone out to feed the cows, got lost in their own pastures and froze to death.
Some ranchers had a rope that stretched from their barn to their house so they could get back that short distance in a blizzard.
Often times the only thing that would save a man was his horse—if his horse could find his way home even in a blizzard. Many a cowboy credited his horse for saving his life in a freak snowstorm.
Lady Killer had gotten J.T. out of some tight spots over the years. He hoped to hell he did now as he gave the horse his rein. The smell of smoke teased him through the whirling snow. Not the smoke of a woodstove or a campfire. This was the smell of destruction, of burned belongings, of destroyed lives.
He pulled the brim of his hat down against the storm and rode blindly toward what he hoped was the cabin—and Reggie.
THE SNOWFLAKES were so thick, Regina lost sight of the blue fabric through the trees for a moment.
She could hear the cows mooing on the wind, but something else, something closer. She stopped. Over the roar of her pulse, she heard a creaking sound. She waited, heard the creak again.
Just a branch creaking in the wind. She took a few more steps and caught another glimpse of the blue fabric again through the snowstorm. If she was right, this was where she’d seen Luke’s horse when it had almost run her down. That image of the terrified horse burned itself into her mind, frightening her even more as if this spot held some evil. An evil a horse would sense. And a city girl would not.
“McCall!” She moved like a sleepwalker through the falling snow, the dead wet aspen leaves sticking to her boots, her gaze locked on the spot of blue, a prayer on her lips.
The aspens gave way to large old pines. She rounded one of the ponderosas and froze. She’d been right about the piece of blue cloth. It was a shirt. The same color as the one J.T. had worn this morning.
The cloth flapped in the wind. A sleeve. She stepped around the pine tree, her scream lost in the storm as she saw what was making the creaking sound. A rope bit into the bark of a wide limb. From the rope hung Luke Adams, his feet dangling just inches from the ground, the noose tied tight around his neck, the rope over the limb creaking as his body swayed in the wind.
Chapter Twelve
She came out of the snowstorm in a blur of red. Just moments before, the wind had seemed to shriek and suddenly there she was, the gun clutched in her hand.
J.T. drew his horse up short, but Reggie still stumbled into the two of them. He had to grab her to keep her from falling, swinging down from his horse to hold her upright and gently take the pistol from her ice-cold fingers.
Her eyes were wide with terror, her face as white as the snow and twisted in a mask of horror. She was crying and shaking, her words making no sense to him as they tumbled out all over each other.
“It’s all right, Reggie,” he said softly, pulling her into his arms. She slumped against him and he pressed his face into her wet hair. Her hair smelled of smoke. “What happened?”
She leaned into him, taking huge gulping breaths, her body jerking with each sob, her words incoherent and lost in the storm. He strained to see past her into the snow, fearing what might be coming after them.
Two words registered. “He’s dead.”
J.T. felt his skin crawl. “Who’s dead, Reggie?”
She took a shuddering breath. “Luke. I saw him. He was—” She choked on a sob. “The cabin. He burned it down.”
“Luke burned down the cabin?”
She shook her head. “Someone burned down the cabin. I ran. I was looking for you when I found—” Her eyes teared up again, she bit her lower lip. “Luke. He’s in a tree.” She pointed behind her.
Luke in a tree?
Her blue eyes were wide with fear as she pulled back. “He had a rope around his neck and he was—” She started crying again. “His eyes were bulging and his tongue—”
“Okay.” He drew her back into his arms. “I need you to show me where.”
She nodded against his chest. He brushed the snow from her hair with his hand and took off his coat and put it on her. He had to get her out of the weather and if he’d understood her, someone had burned down the cabin. That would explain the smoke he’d smelled earlier, the same scent as in her hair.
She brushed away her tears with the heel of her palm. Her lower lip trembled. Snowflakes caught in her lashes. But she straightened and started limping back the way she’d come. He needed her to be strong now and was for once thankful that she was the kind of woman who didn’t let anything stop her.
He caught her hand, turned her to face him and lifted her up into the saddle. She didn’t protest. Adrenaline pumping, he slipped his rifle from the scabbard and led the horse. Reggie’s tracks hadn’t quite filled in. He followed them into the stand of aspens, the same area where Reggie said she had first seen Luke’s horse the day before.
The wind wasn’t as strong back here in the trees, but still the falling snow whirled around him as they walked through the stand of now nearly bare aspens. Reggie sat on the horse, gripping the pommel, her gaze riveted to a spot beyond the grove.
The wind had torn the last of the leaves from the limbs. The white branches were dark against the snow, looking sinister as if reaching out at them as they passed.
As the aspen grove gave way to the dense pines, he saw Reggie glance over her shoulder, shudder, then straighten, shoulders back, stilling the trembling in her lower lip as she bit down on it.
He stepped into the pines, the rifle in the crook of his arm, the reins in his other hand. It was darker in here, more protected from the storm. The snow fell silently. Cold shadows hunkered under the wide pine boughs. Past the quiet, he heard a creaking sound. Reggie must have heard it, too. She tensed, making the horse shudder beneath her.
Still following her tracks, he moved through the pines until he saw something through the branches. A blue shirt. His heart leaped to his throat. He’d been hoping that Reggie was mistaken, that in her fear she’d only imagined that it was Luke. That he would find a noose like he had earlier; a tree branch with nothing hanging from it but the rope.
That hope evaporated the moment he stepped around the last pine and saw Luke. He turned away, sick to his stomach. What monster would do something like this?
The rope creaked on the limb and he saw something on the body…. “Stay here,” he said to Reggie and walked the few yards to where someone had thrown the rope over the limb and hung Luke Adams. As the body turned in the wind, J.T. saw that something had been written on the blue shirt.
Stepping closer, he squinted in the falling snow to read the scrawled word. The ink had run but he could still make out the word “Traitor.”
A chill, colder than the day, rattled up his spine. He stepped back wanting to distance himself from this horror, from the mind that conceived this type of retribution. He wanted to cut Luke down, but he knew the body would be safer where it was. It was high enough off the ground that most animals wouldn’t bother it. There was no cabin to take it to. Luke would have to remain here until he could get back with help.
He turned and hurried back to Reggie. She no longer looked terrified, just numb, eyes glazed. He handed her the rif
le. She took it, blinking as if coming awake. He swung up behind her on the horse and retrieved the rifle and reins from her.
Even if someone had burned the cabin to the ground, the wall tents might still be standing. He had to get her into some dry clothing. He had some for both of them in his tent.
As he rode back toward camp, the wind died down. Snow fell around them in a cocoon of dense cold white, but the visibility was better. He knew where he was and where he was going. But still he wouldn’t be able to see anyone come out of the storm until it was too late.
He tried not to think past getting to the camp. He couldn’t even be sure the tents would be standing, but if they were, he and Reggie would get changed into some dry, warmer clothing. And then what?
He couldn’t think that far ahead, afraid they wouldn’t even reach the camp. He expected a surprise attack, someone coming out of the storm. Whoever had killed Luke was out there somewhere. All of this was just leading up to something more horrible. He felt it as clearly as the cold. It was only a matter of time before he crossed paths with the killer. J.T. was sure of that.
And J.T. had several huge disadvantages. He had no way of knowing what the killer looked like. And he also had Reggie. J.T. had no doubt that the killer planned to use both against him.
The killer had to be either Will, Nevada or Roy. Or all three of them. He wouldn’t know who was innocent or who was guilty until it was too late.
He smelled the smoke first, then what was left of the cabin took shape through the falling snow. Only the hulking dark shape of the old woodstove stood in the ashes of what had been the line shack.
The smell reminded him of another burned cabin nine years ago. Except there were no bodies in the ruins this time. At least he hoped not.
As he and Reggie neared the camp, no one appeared from out of the falling snow. Wisps of smoke spiraled up from the ruins of the cabin, disappearing into the falling snow.
Fortunately, no trees near the cabin had caught fire and burned. Through the pines he saw with relief that both wall tents were still standing.
As he rode into camp, he noted that the corrals were empty, the gate open, the extra horses gone. Someone had let them loose. Before setting the fire? Or after Reggie had taken off?
No sign of the men. No fresh tracks in the snow. He rode up to the tents, heard a horse whinny and raised the rifle. One of the extra horses came out of the snow toward him, head down, walking slowly.
He handed the rifle to Reggie and slipped off the back of his horse. Taking the lasso he kept on his saddle, he moved toward the horse.
It was a horse named Silver, the gentlest of the bunch. Silver eyed him, no doubt afraid after the cabin fire. J.T. got close enough that he could loop the end over the horse’s neck. He spoke softly, rubbing the horse’s neck to soothe it, then tied the end of the lasso to a limb of a nearby tree.
Going back to his own horse, he helped Reggie down. She stood hugging herself, fear back in her eyes. He handed her the pistol and motioned for her to wait by the horse as he took a look in the tents.
She nodded, her fingers closing over the grip.
He took the rifle and looked in the cowhands’ tent first, expecting to find their gear gone and them as well. Their gear was still there. Someone was lying on a cot in the far corner, Nevada Black’s cot, his back to the door.
“Nevada?” he called.
No answer.
He stepped closer, reached out to touch the man’s shoulder and saw the knife buried to the hilt in the man’s chest. One hand was over the knife handle as if he had tried to pull it out.
The skin on top of the hand was scarred from where it had been burned.
J.T. jerked back his own hand, his breath coming hard, as he stared down at Slim Walker.
What was Slim doing here? And where was Cotton? J.T. stumbled back toward the door, sure now that neither of them had reached the ranch. That meant his brother Cash wasn’t on his way up here.
He and Reggie were on their own.
J.T. scrambled out of the tent, afraid he would find Reggie gone. But she stood next to the horse, still hugging herself, still looking scared.
“What is it?” she asked, obviously seeing how upset he was.
He didn’t answer as he checked his own tent, afraid he would find another body inside it. The tent was empty except for the two cots and his and Buck’s gear.
J.T. ducked back out to take Reggie’s hand and pull her inside, out of the snow and cold. He took the pistol from her and laid it on the cot.
“McCall.” Her eyes shone. “What did you find in the tent?”
He wanted to lie to her, to protect her, but she had a right to know how much danger they were in. He also needed her to be strong and not fall apart on him. Better now though than later when they could be in a worse situation. “I found Slim. He’s dead. Someone stabbed him.”
“Slim? But Slim left with Cotton….” Tears spilled down her cheeks. “Cotton?”
J.T. shook his head, and putting down the rifle, stepped to her. Gently, he thumbed away the tears on her cheeks, then pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her. “We have to get dressed in dry, warm clothing. We have to get out of here, Reggie.”
She nodded against his chest, then pulled back.
He gave her a reassuring smile. “That’s my girl.” He found some dry clothing, handed it to her, and turned his back so she could dress as he put on a dry shirt and a heavy coat of Buck’s. He would give Reggie his winter coat, a heavier one than he’d been wearing earlier.
He could hear her behind him dressing quickly as he picked up the rifle. She put on the coat he handed her over the flannel shirt and long underwear and wool pants. All were huge on her, but at least she was warm and dry now.
“Here,” he said, handing her a pair of lined boots. “They’re Buck’s. His feet are smaller than mine. I think with a couple pairs of socks…”
She pulled on the socks, then the boots. He noticed that her hands were steady. He knelt in front of her and laced them. Feeling her hand on his cheek, he looked up at her. He met her gaze. In that moment, he couldn’t be sure what either of them might say. She had to know that the killer probably wasn’t going to let them get out of these mountains. Not without a fight.
He’d die trying to save her. He figured if she knew anything about him, she’d know that. “I’ll go saddle the other horse,” he said quickly and stood. “I’ll be right outside.”
“No, I’m going with you.”
He started to tell her that she would be warmer in the tent, not to mention drier, but he could see by her expression that she didn’t want to stay alone any more than he wanted to leave her.
She got to her feet. The high boots seemed to help her ankle.
He picked up Luke’s saddle and tack from where he’d put it in his tent last night. She followed him outside. The snow wasn’t falling as hard now. The wind had died and the silence was heavy and close. He kept his rifle within reach as he saddled Silver for Reggie.
She swung up into the saddle and he handed her the reins. She winced as she put weight on her bad ankle in the stirrups but said nothing as she watched the forest and the falling snow. He didn’t have to ask what she was looking for.
There was one thing he had to check before they started down the mountain, although he knew what he would find.
The snow stopped falling almost as quickly as it had begun. Low clouds hung over the tops of the trees. The air was cold and wet and stung his eyes.
As he topped a rise, the wide open meadow stretched below him. The snow had been trampled, the dirt kicked up.
The herd was gone, just as he knew it would be.
REGINA STARED down at the meadow where hundreds of cattle had been yesterday. The only sign that they’d ever been there was the disturbed earth and trodden snow.
“Where are the cows?” she whispered as her horse edged up beside his.
“Headed for the black market, I would imagine,” he said and
looked over at her. “I guess that’s what they’ve been after all along.”
“They killed Luke and Slim for cows?” she asked.
“Half a million dollars worth,” he said.
She blinked in surprise. “I had no idea—”
He nodded as if he suspected she didn’t.
“You have to go after them and stop them,” she said with a fierceness that surprised her.
It must have surprised him, too. He smiled. “The only thing I have to do is get you to the ranch where you will be safe.”
“But if they have your property—” She saw by his expression that he feared whoever had stolen the cattle wanted more than the cattle and ultimately the money. “If I wasn’t with you, you’d go after them, wouldn’t you.”
He laughed softly. “Probably and it would be the stupidest thing I could do. I don’t even know how many of them there are. I’d probably get myself killed.”
She doubted that. J. T. McCall was a man who could take care of himself.
“Come on.” He spurred his horse and started back the way they’d come, then cut through the trees away from the trail where the cattle had gone.
Her horse followed without her having to do anything and she was grateful. Her ankle ached and she felt chilled from earlier. She stared at McCall’s broad back, thankful that he was with her. Another man might have abandoned her to go after his cattle. Actually, most men she’d known. A half million was a lot of money. She doubted McCall could spare it and she feared she was at least partly responsible for its loss. If he hadn’t had to take care of her…
The rocking motion of the horse put her to sleep.
She woke with a start, almost falling off the horse. McCall had stopped. She stared into the pines, surprised how dark it had gotten.
Her rump hurt from the saddle and her ankle felt as if it were ten sizes larger than normal, the boot too tight now and cutting into her flesh. She was tired and hungry, thirsty and her hair stunk of smoke, reminding her of the fire, her skin grimy.