Holding a Hero

by Layne, Lyssa

  Finding the handle took a few precious seconds and by the time the door swung open, she felt as if she’d swallowed a whole chimney full of smoke. They staggered outside and made it a few feet away from the danger. She bent over and placed her hands on her knees, coughing and gagging, eyes streaming.

  Beside her, Johnny also choked.

  When Montana could breathe again, she asked, “You okay?”

  He nodded. “Yeah. You?”

  “I’ll live.” She turned toward the cabin. Thick blue smoke filled the night air; the roof of the cabin glowed orange.

  When Johnny charged toward the burning building, Montana screamed, “No!”

  Her heart pounded a crazy rhythm. He could die!

  She sprinted after him, bumping into his body when he appeared through the smoke carrying his coat, rifle and the pair of saddlebags. “I’m okay, but we better move. She’s going down any minute.”

  They stumbled to the hitch rail and leaned against it. Montana wiped her streaming eyes. In silence, except for an occasional cough, they watched the cabin burn. The flames tore through the aged wood like a racehorse out of the gate, the roar nearly deafening. There was no hope of saving the old place. Even if they had a way to carry water, there wouldn’t be nearly enough to stop the flames. In a matter of minutes, the back and side log walls collapsed with an ear-shattering bang. The front wall somehow stayed up, the front door wide open.

  Montana asked in a numb voice, “Did you forget to open the damper?”

  “No.” Johnny struggled into his coat. “It was fine. I double checked.”

  Montana didn’t know how long they stood in the dark watching the logs smolder. How the hell was she going to explain to her friends that she’d been in residence when their family cabin—one they’d owned for over a hundred years—had gone up in flames? There was no replacing it. All the years and years of history, gone.

  Tears that had nothing to do with the smoke hanging in the air filled her eyes.

  Johnny wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. “Shhh. It’ll be okay.”

  She buried her face against his solid chest. “I don’t know how. The Marshes are going to kill me when they see this.”

  “That’s not going to happen.” He stroked her hair. “I’ll talk to them. Fuck. I’ll rebuild it.”

  “Right now we have bigger problems.” Her words came slow. “Up until now I haven’t wanted to believe that Tom would actually do us harm, but I think he tried to kill us tonight.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  Holding Johnny’s hand, she led him toward the cabin. At the smoking remains, she stopped and pointed to the stove. “I’m no fireman, but if the fire started here, wouldn’t the stovepipe be melted? And the front wall would have burned.” She moved toward the back of the cabin. “I think the fire was set here. There’s nothing that would have made this wall burn.”

  Johnny pointed to glowing embers from the fire along with snowflakes swirling in a light snowfall. “A cinder from the stovepipe could have lit back here.”

  Montana bit her lip. “True, but not likely in the snow.”

  “I think you’re right.” He turned to face her. “And I think we better get the hell out of here before he tries again.”

  “My saddles are ruined.” Montana wanted to cry.

  “We rode bareback this far.” Johnny grinned, but even he looked strained. “A few more miles won’t hurt us.”

  Montana stiffened her spine, although another ride through the night sounded about as appealing as a root canal. “I guess since we’re awake we might as well leave now.”

  “Wait here, “Johnny said. “I’ll catch the horses.”

  Although tempted, she shook her head. “We’ll both go. Soon as we have them caught, we can leave. We don’t have anything to take with us, do we?” Her stomach knotted. “My gun was in the cabin with my saddle.”

  “I have the saddlebags.” He held them up. “Although there’s only two bottles of water and some leftover chips and trail mix inside.”

  “That’ll tide us over until we get to the ranch.” With a weary sigh, she said, “Guess we better go. Where are the halters?”

  She walked toward the hitch rail where she’d hung the tack. “Johnny? Did you move the halters?”

  “No. Why?”

  “They’re gone.” She knelt and looked under the pole. Nothing. Montana couldn’t believe her eyes. “Not again.”

  “Afraid so.” Johnny sounded disgusted.

  Taking a slow turn, Montana examined the empty meadow. “This cannot be happening.”

  “Wait.” Johnny walked a few feet and bent. He held up a bundle of nylon and cotton. “Look. Here they are.”

  “Great, but where are the horses?” Montana put two fingers in her mouth and wolf whistled. She waited a moment, and when she heard nothing, she did it again.

  Just when her heart began to sink, she heard a faint neigh.

  “Where did that come from?” Montana cocked her head. She couldn’t put her finger on where the noise originated and whistled a third time.

  The horse neighed again, this time from the area near the hot springs. Montana strode in that direction, her fear building. “I hope nobody’s bogged down in the mud.”

  With her pulse pounding, she picked up the pace to a jog. The horses had been here before and knew the area around the ponds were dangerous. But accidents happened, and the way things had been going, she feared the worst.

  As they drew close, steam filled the night air, making visibility close to zero. Slowing to a walk, Montana called, “Sunflower. Come here, boy.”

  A soft snort let her know he was close.

  “Sunflower?” She stopped to let him come to her.

  In a moment, like some ghostly apparition, he walked out of the mist and put his muzzle in her palm. Wrapping her arms around his neck, Montana buried her nose in his mane. “That’s my good boy.”

  The other two animals pushed forward looking for a treat. Montana let go of Sunflower and stroked the familiar faces. “I am so glad to see you guys. You wouldn’t run off and leave me here, would you? Why are you over here? You know it’s not safe.”

  While she babbled, Johnny haltered the horses. “I am so fucking glad to see you guys.”

  “Let’s get out of here.” Montana took a leery look around.

  Leading the horses away from the dangerous area, with the mule tagging behind, they moved into the open meadow. The waning moon showed it was only about two hours until dawn.

  ~*~

  Winter had come to the Rockies.

  Snowflakes fell from low-hanging gray clouds, insulating them. The only sounds were the soft plops of hooves in the snow.

  Montana longed for coffee and a hot breakfast. Her stomach grumbled, but she ignored it. The sooner they got off this mountain, the better.

  Johnny hadn’t complained once, which amazed her. Any other hunter would have bitched and moaned endlessly. She glanced over her shoulder. Instead of the hunched shoulders and frown she expected, he sat straight and appeared to be on high alert.

  Montana had kept her eyes open, too, but hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary. But her scalp and nerves tingled. Surely Tom had given up and wasn’t lurking around in the deep fog. Montana wasn’t taking the chance of accidently running into him and watched Sunflower for signs of other horses, but he hadn’t shown any indication so far. None of the animals seemed skittish, so Montana tried to shake off her uneasy feeling, chalking it up to the events of the last two days.

  At the fork to the Hanging Bridge, Montana reined in.

  Overnight, the snow had deepened to about a foot. Although Montana trusted the horses, there was no way in hell she would risk the Hanging Bridge in these conditions. The trail to camp was longer, but safer.

  They had to ride about a half mile along the ridge before dropping into the trees. She ducked her face into her coat collar, wishing for a cup of coffee. Her stomach growled and a vision of
Shannon’s biscuits and gravy made her mouth water. She dismounted with a sigh.

  Johnny slid from Gunsmoke’s back and sidled up beside her. He dug in the saddlebags and retrieved the trail mix, offering it to her first.

  She took a handful. “Thanks.”

  He grabbed a handful and popped it into his mouth.

  “What I wouldn’t give for a cup of coffee right now.” She dug out the raisins and tossed them aside. Camp robbers would find the treat after they left.

  He winked. “A double tall mocha caramel latte with a triple shot of vanilla? Topped off with a shot of Baileys.”

  “I have no idea what that is,” she confessed. “I like my coffee strong and black. Sometimes with a spoonful of sugar.”

  “It’s a super sweet concoction they call coffee back home,” he said. “You’ve completely changed my outlook on the stuff. I doubt I’ll ever be able to think about coffee in the same way again.”

  He wasn’t the only one with a different way of thinking. About rock stars. Love affairs. Broken hearts.

  Taking care not to let him see any emotion in her eyes, Montana took another scoop of the trail mix and ate it, raisins and all. When they`d emptied the bag, she said, “We better go.”

  Johnny stuffed the plastic sack in the saddlebags and handed her his rifle. “Hold that until I mount back up, will you?”

  “I can carry it,” she said.

  “Okay.” He carried the saddlebags back to Gunsmoke and jumped on like an old pro. Montana wondered if he would miss riding when he went back to L.A. Would he miss her? Or would she be forgotten the minute he hit the airport? Sooner?

  The trail mix tumbled around in her stomach and she swallowed hard.

  After making sure Johnny was ready, she tapped Sunflower’s sides. The horse plodded forward, his tired steps sure.

  The wind along the ridge was fierce, pushing them sideways and screeching like a dying animal. The clouds vanished, shoved away by the wind, leaving a cold blue sky. Montana pushed her sunglasses tighter and buried her chin in her collar. Thank God she had fallen asleep in her coat and boots, or she’d have frozen to death by now.

  Somehow, Johnny had managed to get out with his outerwear, too. Thank heavens. When she got hold of Tom she was going to make him hurt. What the hell was wrong with him? Taking the horses was bad enough, but tearing apart her camp and burning down the Marshes’ cabin passed nutty into dangerous and criminal.

  If she and Johnny hadn’t woken, they would have burned to death in the fire. Montana shuddered. Thank God the smoke woke them before they asphyxiated.

  One of the first things she planned to do when they hit town was go straight to the sheriff’s office and press charges.

  She’d see Tom behind bars, or know the reason.

  Not only had he attempted to murder them, he had probably singlehandedly ruined what was left of her business.

  When word got out of all the disasters that had befallen Johnny, she’d never have another client. Her grandfather and father’s legacy destroyed by a man who had never loved her. Motivated by what? Jealousy over another man who also did not love her. If it didn’t hurt so much she’d laugh at the irony.

  She didn’t give in to depression very often—maybe it was the weather—but despair filled her. She was worse off than before Johnny and his crew had shown up on her doorstep.

  None of this was their fault in any way.

  On top of a ruined business, she now had an aching heart to contend with. Brought on by her own foolishness—she had no one to blame but herself. Johnny had only taken what she’d freely given.

  Shannon had warned her not to fall in love with him. How Montana thought she could sleep with Johnny and not lose her heart, she had no idea. Maybe she’d been alone way too long. One thing stood out in stark clarity—she didn’t do casual hookups well and would never do it again.

  As they dropped off the ridge, picking their way across a shale rockslide, Sunflower suddenly tensed, then neighed, his plea echoing through the mountains. When the gelding lifted his head again, Montana put her hand on his neck, silencing him. He looked across the valley, head high, ears pricked.

  No answer came.

  Montana followed his line of sight, but couldn’t pick out a horse among the trees and rocks. They weren’t far from where the horses had been tied and abandoned.

  “Do you see what they’re looking at?” Johnny asked.

  “No. I lost my binoculars in the fire.”

  “I did, too.”

  Montana nodded. She’d been so deeply asleep that when she woke to the cabin burning, she hadn’t thought to grab her rifle. Amateur mistake and one that could be deadly.

  A herd of elk burst out of the trees, stampeding along the opposite side of the valley.

  “Johnny—” Montana pointed “—look.”

  No matter how many times she saw this sight—a herd of elk running free—it awed and amazed her. Led by a big bull, a group of cows galloped as if their lives depended on it.

  What had spooked them?

  Or who?

  Sudden fear gripped her.

  “We’ve got to get off this ridge,” Montana said desperately. “We’re sitting targets out here.”

  No sooner had the words come out of her mouth than the shale hillside to her right exploded. A gunshot ricocheted through the peaks like summer thunder.

  Spooked by jagged chunks of shale hitting his flanks and hip, Sunflower lunged forward. Instinctively, from a lifetime of riding, Montana wrapped her legs around him. A roar filled her ears. She shot a frantic look at the rockslide above her. Jarred loose by either the shot or the noise, loose rocks came roaring straight at her.

  With a scream, she leaned forward onto the horse’s neck. The palomino lunged into a full gallop, tearing along the snow-covered trail like the hounds of hell were after him. Wrapping her fists in his mane, Montana held on for dear life as her trusty little horse carried her out of harm’s way.

  At the edge of the slide, she reined him to a hard stop, jumped off, hit the ground and belly crawled behind a boulder. A cloud of snow and dust filled the air. Where she and Johnny had just been stood a pile of gray shale rock higher than her head.

  Dear God.

  Was Johnny buried under that tomb?

  She didn’t dare shout. Was he dead? Hurt? Unable to defend himself, to be picked off like a Thanksgiving turkey?

  She had to help him.

  Get it together, Montana. A man’s life depends on you.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Johnny had only a second to see Sunflower gallop away before Gunsmoke reared and whirled to his left, his front legs suspended in midair over the canyon below, before coming down with a bone-jarring thud that unseated his rider.

  Johnny flew through the air, landing on his back. The wind rushed out of him faster than a pinpricked balloon. As if the volume were turned way down, he vaguely heard Gunsmoke and the mule’s hoof beats galloping into the distance. For a minute he lay still, wondering if he were dead.

  He stared at the gray sky, trying to suck in air.

  When he could breathe again, his first thought was of Montana. Where was she? Was she okay?

  He rolled onto his stomach.

  Particles of rocks and snow blinded him. He couldn’t see anything through the cloud of debris.

  Raising his head, he shouted, “Montana!”

  A bullet hit the ground near his head, throwing more dirt and snow into his face.

  “Fuck!” He scrambled back.

  The high-pitched whine of another bullet alerted him before it hit the ground, this time near his ribcage. So close he could almost feel its heat.

  “God damn!”

  Desperate for a place to hide, he lifted his head from the crook of his elbow to scan the area. A stand of pines grew several feet over the downside of the trail. With a lightning quick move, he flipped himself over the edge. For a moment he lay there, until gravity took over. Then he rolled the twenty or so feet to th
e trees.

  He slammed into one of the trunks with a grunt. “Damn.”

  Bullets pounded the ground around him and he curled into a tight ball, the smallest target he could make himself. He felt for his hunting knife strapped to his thigh. There! At least he had something. Although what good it would do against a high-powered rifle, he had no idea.

  Finally the rain of hot metal stopped.

  Johnny risked lifting his head a few inches to look around. The trail where he and Montana had been sitting was now hidden under a ton of rock. He knew she hadn’t been crushed; he’d seen her flee before the slide hit.

  He didn’t know if she’d been shot.

  Fear made his gut clench. “Something happens to her, Motherfucker, I’ll kill you.”

  Taking a chance, he peered around the trees. The other side of the valley appeared empty and silent.

  He knew better.

  A crazed killer waited over there, just hoping he’d move.

  Do and die.

  He had no place to go. Between him and the rockslide covering the trail lay twenty or thirty feet of open space. The trail in the other direction was shielded by trees, but a couple dozen feet lay between him and them.

  His only hope was to wait for nightfall.

  ~*~

  Johnny’s shout carried across the air.

  Montana’s heart sang. He was alive. Perhaps harmed, but still kicking. She fought the urge to yell back to let him know she was okay.

  She couldn’t give up her position.

  Glancing around, she realized she held a good spot. The shooter couldn’t hit her behind this boulder and the pine forest stood only a few feet off. The rock slide was a good fifty feet away with Johnny on the other side.

  Somehow she had to get to him.

  Cautiously, she peeked around the boulder in an attempt to catch a glimpse of the shooter.

  Tom?

  Was her one-time boyfriend shooting at her, trying to kill her?

  Why? Because she’d slept with a rock star five years after they’d broken up? It made no sense.

  Logical or not, it was happening.