A smile turned both corners of Eric’s lips. Two days worth of stubble shaded his chin. Evening sun slanted low through the sagebrush and sparkled in his green eyes. “I could kiss you.”
A jitter lodged beneath her ribs.
“I mean, it’s a good idea.” He focused on the trailer.
She nodded. She knew that’s what he meant. But somewhere dangerous inside her, she wanted it to be more.
LIKE EVERY PLACE IN Wyoming, it took much too long to drive to Cody, even though it was the closest town. Exhaust from the old truck swirled in the wind. Sarah’s hair lashed against her cheeks. And the trailer’s jolting motion actually made her grateful she hadn’t eaten in a good number of hours. Even though they were sheltered behind a solid kick board rimming the lower half of the trailer, the wind felt more like a gale in October than a spring night in early June. By the time they reached town, it seemed Sarah couldn’t do a thing to smooth the tangle on top of her head other than shave it off and start fresh.
The truck turned left and followed the light flow of traffic on the west strip, the road leading to the Buffalo Bill Dam and Yellowstone National Park. Sunset sparkled on the Shoshone River as the sun slipped behind the mountains. Hotels on the strip boasted few cars in their lots, the early tourist season trickle just a warm-up for the flood of people who would flock to enjoy the parks and a slice of the west come July.
The rodeo grounds loomed on the right, lights blazing. Tonight was rodeo night, as was every summer night in Cody. Even though she hadn’t attended in years, some of her ranch hands…“Oh, no.”
Eric’s head whipped around. “What?”
“Keith and Glenn.” She couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of them. She only wished she was more aware of their plans. “They’ve been competing in team roping. They might be here tonight.”
The truck turned in to the exhibitors’ entrance and circled to the back of the arena.
Eric leveled a calm gaze. “If they see you, are they the types who will turn you in?”
She didn’t have to think too hard about Glenn Freemont. “Glenn is. Between his fascination with crime novels and cop shows on television, I suspect a career in law enforcement is his secret dream.”
“And Keith?”
Keith Sherwood was another story. “Keith would probably prefer to shoot us himself.” She supposed she should feel lucky that he didn’t carry his assault rifle to rodeos, although she was sure he’d have an assortment of rifles in the rack in his truck along with a handgun or two.
“No loyalty, eh?”
“Glenn hasn’t worked for me long. And I imagine Keith believes you killed Randy. He might even believe I was there, too, at this point.” They had no clue how large the news story about the murder and subsequent manhunt had grown in the past day. Maybe the entire state would be gunning for them. And here they were, riding smack into the middle of a crowd of people, any one of whom could identify them, call the police, or worse. “This was a bad idea.”
“It’ll be fine. We’ll be in and out before anyone sees us. We’ll just have to avoid the competitors.”
“Not such an easy thing to do when we’re driving right into the middle of them.”
They entered the gate and bumped through a rutted lot between trucks, horse trailers and motor homes. Sarah peered through the slats in the back gate and focused on the small grandstand above the bucking chutes, a place called the Buzzard’s Roost. Below were the stock pens. The scent of manure and the warm tang of horse sweat surrounded her like a favorite blanket. She took a deep, bracing breath. The trailer’s jolts slowed as the truck circled.
Now came the tough part. Getting out of the trailer unseen. “Ready?”
Eric nodded. He rose to his feet, careful to stay tight to the side of the trailer in case anyone was behind them.
Sarah focused on his bloody sock. Another problem she’d forgotten about. “You might be a little noticeable walking around with only one boot.”
“I have an idea.” He motioned for her to move to the back gate. Once she took her spot, he placed his hands around her waist.
His touch felt familiar, comforting, but also disconcerting. Her body seemed to sway toward him on its own, leaning against the pressure of his hands, molding to his touch.
Stop it.
She focused on the slowing trailer, scouted for stray riders warming up their mounts behind the trailer parking area. If anyone spotted them jumping from the trailer, they would be sure to ask questions. Questions she and Eric could never answer.
“As soon as your feet hit the ground, make for that rig over there.” He extended a finger, indicating a motor home with a four-horse slant hitched to the back. “There shouldn’t be anyone there. I just saw them leave.”
“Okay. Ready.” Sarah tensed. The trailer bumped, jolted and stopped.
Eric lifted her as if she weighed nothing. She grasped the trailer gate and swung her legs over. She hit the ground knees bent and running. The force shuddered through her bones.
She reached the other rig before the driver opened his pickup’s door. Eric was right behind her, limping as fast as his feet would move. They opened the trailer dressing room and ducked inside.
A dog’s bark sounded from outside. A whistle split the air.
“Just in time.” Sarah panted.
Eric checked out the tiny window in the dressing room’s door. “All clear. No one seems to have noticed except the dog.”
Sarah struggled to catch her breath. The rodeo had to be close to starting time. Likely most of the competitors had already drifted closer to the arena.
She glanced around the cramped and darkened space, the typical dressing room, tight and full of a jumbled form of organization that made sense only to the people to whom it belonged. She breathed in the warm fragrance of leather, mixed with Eric’s distinctive scent.
He stepped to the side, his body pressing against her. “I found boot boxes. Yeah, these should do.” He let out a soft grunt as he pulled one on.
She shifted to the side to give them both room. “How does it fit?”
“A little big on my good foot. But the other foot is so swollen, it’s perfect.”
“How about your head? I can still see some blood in your hair.”
He added a black felt cowboy hat she found stuck in a corner and he was ready to go. “Don’t you need something?”
“I’m fine,” she said, although she didn’t feel very fine at all. She glanced around the space. “Doesn’t look like there’s a woman that goes with this rig.”
“Maybe we’ll spot something on the way out.”
She hated stealing peoples gear like this, especially since there was no way they could get it back to the poor guy when they were done. But it couldn’t be helped. She didn’t know how much cash Eric was carrying, but she didn’t have a dime on her. When she’d gone out to do chores two evenings ago, she didn’t exactly expect to need her wallet.
By the time they emerged from the dressing room, the man who’d acted as their unknowing chauffeur was nowhere to be seen. His dog barked from the rolled-down window of the pickup. Eric slung the backpack onto one shoulder. It didn’t go with the outfit, but that couldn’t be helped. They didn’t exactly have a place to stash it. They strode through the exhibitors’ area as if they belonged there.
A man in a silver belly Stetson and button-down shirt stood at the gate leading to the arena. “How the hell are we going to get around him?”
The sound of hooves trotting through gravel crunched behind them. Sarah glanced at Eric. “Slow down, I have an idea.”
A tiny boy bounced past them on the back of a towering quarter horse, well over sixteen hands. Sarah plastered a proud-parent smile on her face and followed the boy through the gate as if he belonged to her.
The man in the hat gave the kid a grin, then focused on Sarah and Eric. “Good luck,” he called.
“Thanks!” Sarah said.
Eric gave the guy a friendly tip of the
hat. As soon as they cleared the gate, he turned to Sarah. “Pretty slick.”
She couldn’t help turning a genuine smile on him. In the past day and a half, she’d had to lean on Eric more than she had leaned on anyone since she was a child. It felt good to have a venue where she could put her expertise to use. And it felt better than she wanted to acknowledge to have Eric notice. “I’m glad he didn’t know the boy. That would have been dicey.”
“You’d have come up with something.”
She’d like to think so, but she wasn’t so sure. Her mind felt as fuzzy as her muscles were tired. Along with the fatigue, she couldn’t shake the constant sense that tears were pressing at the corners of her eyes and longing poised to uncurl in her chest—emotion waiting for the slightest excuse to push to the surface. She normally went by what her gut told her, but fighting through all she had in addition to having Eric again at her side was overwhelming. She prayed she could hold it all together.
And that they wouldn’t run in to Keith or Glenn or someone else who would know who they were.
Finding the track that circled the opposite end of the arena from where the competitors congregated, they headed for the grandstand. They fell into the light stream of foot traffic behind a young family. Sarah plastered a smile to her face and tried to look like she was here to enjoy a fun night at the rodeo instead of hoping to identify a murder victim.
In front of her, a toddler girl looked over her daddy’s shoulder and gave her a smile. Wrapping her little arms around his neck, she whispered something in his ear, and he laughed. Her older brother held both mom and dad’s hands. Picking up his legs, he swung between them like they were human monkey bars.
Sarah’s throat felt thick, her chest painfully empty. What she wouldn’t have given for a happy family scene like that when she was a child. Her parents rarely took them to the rodeo, only Layton had bothered to do that. Even when one of them did trailer her barrel horse to the grounds, usually their mom, she seemed distant, more inclined to hang out with adults than help her daughter or cheer for her son to stay on his steer for the required eight seconds.
The worst part was that Sarah had always vowed her kids would have it different. That their rodeo experiences would be all about family. A mom and a dad…together. A mom and a dad who loved each other. She’d always wished she could give her own children those moments she’d never had. Precious moments the family in front of them probably took for granted.
She blinked back the mist of tears and gave the little girl a wave as the family split off to take a seat in the stands and she and Eric continued on the same path.
In the concession area behind the grandstand, people milled around, buying raffle tickets to win a bedroom set handcrafted out of knotty pine. The crowd seemed bigger than the parking lot suggested. The scent of popcorn teased the air, making Sarah’s stomach growl. She looked up at the back of the grandstand.
Plain, white walls greeted her, broken only by a few sponsors signs.
Her stomach dropped. “It’s not here. The list of champions.”
From the arena, the announcer boomed his introductions. Boots shuffled in the stands above them. Flags flapped in the wind as riders paraded them around the arena at a lope.
“There are seats on the other side,” Eric said. “Maybe it’s there.”
Sarah thought of the small section of grandstand overlooking the bucking chutes, where cowboys mounted horses and bulls, and shook her head. “I got a glimpse of The Buzzard’s Roost when we pulled in. It wasn’t there either. I must be remembering the wall of champions from a different rodeo grounds. I have so many memories of this place, I guess I just assumed…”
Eric rubbed a hand over her back. “It’s okay. We’ll find his name another way.”
His touch felt good, as it had in the trailer. Too good. She wanted to lean in to him. Let him hold her. Fill her up. She felt too weak to stand on her own a moment longer.
She shook her head and beat back the threat of tears. She supposed it was natural to have this reaction. Between the hormones and lack of sleep and losing her brother, it probably wasn’t surprising that she was now losing her mind. “We came here for nothing.”
“Pardon, but don’t I know you?” a man’s voice called from behind her.
Sarah’s heart stuttered in her chest.
Chapter Ten
Eric’s pulse thrummed in his ears, drowning out the first strains of the national anthem. He glanced at the front gate. A good fifty feet lay between them and the parking lot. If this guy recognized them, they’d have to make a dash for it. Gathering himself, he turned toward the voice.
An older man stood grinning at Sarah, his face as round as the brim of the hat on his head. He raised a hand and stroked the corners of a nearly white mustache. “Didn’t you used to do some barrel racing around here a few years ago?”
Sarah glanced at Eric with wide eyes, then returned her focus to the man. Pink crept up her throat and touched her cheeks. She opened her mouth, as if to answer, then closed it without saying a word.
Eric thrust his had toward the man. “I’m Joe. So you’ve been involved with the rodeo here for a while?” He’d learned a while ago that if you wanted to distract someone, get them talking about themselves. It worked every time.
The man enveloped his hand and gave it a firm shake. “They call me Smithy. Been coming here since I was a boy up in Powell.”
“Then you’re just the man we want to talk to, Smithy.” He knew it was risky, sticking around any longer than they had to. The guy’s memory could come back at any moment. And if he remembered Sarah’s name, he might just tie her to the story he’d heard about in the news. But without the list of champions, they were without answers…answers Smithy just might be able to provide.
He had to take the risk.
Eric pulled the belt buckle from the pack. “We came upon this out on the BLM. Wanted to return it to its owner. Problem is, we don’t know the name of the man who won it.”
The man took the buckle and held it out as far as he could reach. Hard muscle roped forearms spotted with age. “Bareback bronc riding?”
“1978.” Eric supplied.
“Long time ago.”
Sarah gave him a smile, this time looking more sweet than scared out of her wits. “Are there records of who won back then?”
“Of course.”
“Where could we find something like that?” Her voice was still a little shaky, but curious. She’d obviously recovered from the shock and was playing along nicely. As if they’d planned this course of action all along.
She never ceased to amaze him.
The man stroked his mustache once again, then trailed lower to rub his chin between fingers and thumb. “1978…I think I can tell you who won this. But if you want to check—”
“Really? Who?” Sarah jumped in a little too quickly.
Smithy narrowed his eyes on her as if once again trying to remember where he’d seen her before.
“We just need to get back to our children.” Eric motioned to the stands. The lie had slipped out so easily, and it suddenly struck him that in just a few months, it wouldn’t be a lie any longer. “You understand.”
Smithy smiled. “Rodeo’s fun for a family.” He motioned to the arena and began telling them about an upcoming event where children in the audience tried to capture a ribbon from a calf’s tail and win prizes.
Eric didn’t hear a word.
A family. That’s what he and Sarah and the baby could be. His throat constricted. He kept his focus on Smithy, smiling and nodding at the older man’s story, careful not to look in Sarah’s direction, careful to keep control of the emotion bubbling inside.
He’d never wanted a family. Never considered it. He told himself he liked his life as it was. Clear-cut and logical. Always in control. Being around Sarah was never that. He always felt like he was over his head, scaling a cliff solo with no harness. Just a slip away from a disastrous fall.
But right now
, listening to Smithy, thinking about a life with her, a family with her…
“So if you’d like me to look up the winner of that buckle to be official…”
Eric forced his mind back to the conversation at hand. Before he had time to think about any of that, he needed to make sure Sarah was safe. And the way to do that was to get some answers.
“Do you know who it belongs to? Off the top of your head?” he prompted. “We don’t need anything official.”
Smithy handed the buckle back to Eric. “Larry Hodgeson’s the one you’re looking for.”
“You’re sure?” The man had come up with the name so easily, Eric was almost afraid to believe him.
“Sure, I’m sure. He beat me out for that buckle. I can still feel that last ride on rainy days.” He rubbed his hip to illustrate. “A man don’t forget something like that.”
“Thank you so much.” This was turning out better than Eric had dreamed. “Do you know where he lives?”
“Cheyenne. At least last I heard, that’s where he was. Worked for the state down there, I believe.”
Eric almost groaned. The capital of Wyoming, Cheyenne was in the opposite corner of the state from Cody. He didn’t relish the thought of that drive. Of course, driving wasn’t even possible unless they located some wheels.
“You want to return that buckle, you can give it to me. I’ll give it to his wife. She lives here in Cody.”
“His wife?” Sarah echoed.
“Ex-wife, I should have said. After they divorced a little while back, Joy moved home. She’s got family here, you know. She can probably make sure it gets back to him.”
“If you don’t mind, we’d like to return the buckle to Joy ourselves. I’d love to meet her.” Sarah gave the man a smile that could charm just about any man out of anything. “Do you know where we can find her?” she asked.
Once again the man studied her with narrowed eyes. “I ain’t in the habit of giving out ladies’ addresses to strangers.”
“Maybe she would meet us somewhere?” Eric asked. It was up to Eric to get the man’s attention away from Sarah and focused on him. Smithy obviously still felt he should know her, and judging from his expressions every time she spoke, he wasn’t about to give up until her remembered her name.
Rocky Mountain Fugitive Page 8