Rudd looked down at the papers on his desk, his mind whirling with confusion. Allison had said Kam attacked her. Now he was hearing that the opposite had happened—Allison had launched herself at Kam. Wes had stepped between them and stopped the attack. Who to believe? Lifting his chin, he searched his daughter’s blue eyes. Rudd never wanted to think that Kam would lie to him. He didn’t like thinking the worst of people and maybe that was his downfall, he decided. One of the women was lying, either his wife or his daughter. His heart squeezed with fresh pain. He’d barely slept last night.
“Do me a favor? Send Wes over here when he’s done with the trail group.” Rudd didn’t say why but he noted relief in Kam’s face.
“Sure, no problem.” She skipped out of the office and out the door.
Sitting there, Rudd rubbed his face. He’d cut himself shaving this morning. Unlike him, but he was wrestling with huge and shocking revelations. Had Allison had affairs in Hollywood? Had she conceived twice with other men? The charge leveled by his mother seemed ludicrous. Allison was right: If Iris had known this all along, why hadn’t she spoken to him about it much sooner? Why now? There were no easy answers.
The screen door opened and closed. Finally, Wes stood at the office window. Without preamble, Rudd asked Wes for his version of the attack that had occurred last night.
Wes wiped his brow, settled his hat on his head, and did as told.
“Okay, fine, Wes. Thanks,” Rudd said when the man finished.
“Sure thing,” Wes said, lifting his gloved hand and leaving.
The office became quiet. Allison had lied to him. Damn it, anyway. Rudd felt guilty questioning Kam’s version of the incident. He had relied instead on Wes, whom he knew would not lie. He’d had two years with this man and he was as honest as the day was long. Rubbing his chin, Rudd felt trapped. At 8:00 a.m., there would be breakfast. And Allison would be there and so would Kam. And Iris. God, his stomach felt like a tight knot. He had no appetite.
As he sat there, Rudd wondered again if Allison had deceived him about Regan and Zach? He’d caught her in many “white lies” over the years. His mother had never lied to him that he could tell. Why would Allison lie about the attack last night? What was wrong with her? What was wrong with their marriage?
Rudd felt a bitter taste in his mouth and took a swig of water. The taste didn’t go away. Not only was he miserable, but he felt suffocated. At 8:00 a.m., his office assistant would relieve him. Until then, Rudd had to man the phones and be here to help the dudes. It was the last place he wanted to be!
His mind went over the previous night. He’d taken a shower and gone to bed, but Allison hadn’t been there. Because she demanded her beauty sleep, she was usually in bed long before him. But not last night. Rudd had fallen asleep alone. Sometime later, and he wasn’t sure of the time, Allison had quietly slipped into bed. Oh, he knew better than to try and snuggle up to her. She never wanted to be touched by him. Their sex life had died after the last child was born. Rudd blamed himself. He realized he wasn’t handsome or a powerful Hollywood mogul or actor like those that Allison was always gushing about at the dinner table. He was plain. A commoner. Allison had no interest in those things. Rudd knew the truth and it hurt if he thought about it too much. Rudd had consoled himself that they’d created two beautiful children and he funneled all his energy and focus into being their father. The importance in his life was Regan and Zach.
Was Iris right?
Feeling a lump tunnel up through his gut and into his throat, Rudd swallowed convulsively. Oh, God, his whole life had exploded before him. How badly he’d wanted his children to love him, to feel safe and secure. He’d worked hard to provide them everything they’d ever needed. And what if they weren’t his? How would they take the shocking news? Rudd worried more about them in this mess than anything else.
Dejected, Rudd forced himself to answer the phone when it rang. It would give him momentary solace and right now he needed the distraction.
“HEY, KAM,” Iris called from her greenhouse, waving for her granddaughter to come.
Kam had helped Wes and two other wranglers get the dudes off for their morning ride that would end in a picnic just outside of Twin Hills. The trails had been repaired and were nice and flat and easy to ride once more.
“Good morning, Iris,” Kam greeted as she halted in front of her.
“It is,” Iris said, smiling. “I’m avoiding breakfast this morning. Want to play hooky with me?”
Anything to avoid Allison was a gift to Kam. “You bet.”
“I’ve had the cook put some croissants, jam and a thermos of hot coffee into my saddlebags,” Iris said with a teasing smile. “I need to ride out to the Twin Hills area. The other day Wes spotted some monkshood in bloom down at the stream. I need that for my flower essences. Want to come along?”
“Awesome!” Kam exclaimed with a whoop. “Let me saddle Freckles. I’ll be there in a heartbeat.” She leaned over and gave Iris a peck on the cheek. The old woman smiled fully.
“Go on, get saddled up. My horse is ready in the barn. All I gotta do is get my flower-essence bag and I’ll join you over there.”
ANDRÉ JENKINS watched the chatty women ride off toward the Twin Hills trail. He continued to rock and pretended to read a paperback novel. With a sly look he could see a few wranglers over at the barn. The striking of the anvil by the blacksmith, who forged the horses’ new shoes, was the only sound he heard.
After putting down the paperback, Jenkins slowly got up and stretched languidly, all for show. As if he didn’t have a care in the world, he stepped into the cabin. He knelt down on a braided oval rug near his bunk and pulled out his dark green canvas bag. He had to get to the barn, saddle his assigned horse and then bring it over to the rear of the cabin. There, out of sight of curious wranglers, he’d shrug into his backpack and mount his horse. To casual observers, it would appear he was going for a ride.
First things first. He had to get his horse and all the activity was over there at the entrance. Would any of the hands watch him? Take any interest in what he was doing? Jenkins thought not because he normally did not go out on rides with the group. Instead, he usually rode alone. The wranglers knew his habits so they wouldn’t think anything of him appearing over there now.
WES WAS HOLDING a palomino gelding when Thierry moved like a silent shadow over to the barn. The man wore black as he always did. Wes met the dude’s dark eyes and nodded a silent greeting to him. The Frenchman nodded back but said nothing. He didn’t exactly display normal social graces, which made him an oddball at the friendly vacation retreat.
Wes pulled his attention back to the farrier and the horse he was holding. Earlier, he’d seen Kam and Iris riding down the Twin Hills trail. Their joy lifted his heart as he heard their shared laughter. There was no question in Wes’s mind that he loved Kam. Last night’s lovemaking had sealed his heart with hers. Never in his wildest dreams had Wes ever expected to meet such a woman. He only regretted that their time together had been rudely interrupted by Allison.
The bad taste of Wes’s divorce from Carla melted away. Kam was everything Wes had ever wanted. And right now, Wes was plotting how to get her away for a couple of days. Maybe a hiking trip up into the Tetons in the back country. There, they could share their sleeping bag and make love, torrid love, with no interruptions.
He was pulled out of his daydreams by Thierry mounting and riding back to his cabin. The man guided his mount around the rear of it. Wes watched, curiosity piqued. About five minutes later, the dude rode his chestnut gelding out onto the trail that paralleled Twin Hills trail. He wore a big, bulging knapsack now. Why hadn’t he brought it over with him to the barn? Maybe because it was heavy. Wes had good eyes and squinted for a better look. There was an unusual bulge at the top of the knapsack. Wes swore he saw the barrel of a rifle poking up into the tightly stretched fabric. A rifle? Here? Dudes knew that firearms were not allowed.
Feeling a sense of foreboding, Wes turned
. “Hey, Sam, come and hold this horse. I need to check out a situation.”
Once the younger wrangler had taken the quarter horse gelding, Wes went into the barn. Bolt was already saddled and standing in the breezeway. Wes debated whether to tell Rudd where he was going. Thierry had been a shadowy figure at the ranch for the past week and Wes hadn’t taken to him. They had probably exchanged ten words.
What was the man going to do? Shoot an elk out of season? Bull elks had velvet on their antlers right now, getting ready for breeding season in October and November. Wes leaped into the saddle and walked Bolt out of the barn. He saw the dude take the short cut to Twin Hills that the wranglers always used. It didn’t make sense. Wes held Bolt to a slow walk. The gelding wanted to run and pranced sideways. “Easy,” Wes crooned to his gray horse. He slid his leather-gloved hand down the animal’s sleek, arched neck. Instantly, the horse settled and Wes loosened the reins. Above all, he didn’t want Thierry to know he was being followed.
ONCE out of sight of the ranch, Jenkins clapped his heels to his heavily muscled quarter horse gelding. He knew how to ride. The wind flew past as they wove in and out of stands of white-barked aspen. He had to get ahead of the two women on the slower trail, go back to his original sniper site and set up. His targets were about ten minutes ahead of him. With the trail now repaired, he hoped that his shots would be easier.
As he rode, he smiled. Allison Mason had handed him two credit cards and showed him the proof that she’d put the money for the second hit in his offshore bank account. Although he didn’t approve of her showing up at his door late last night, he liked the thought of the extra money. Taking out two women would be no problem. But Allison would have a problem. There wasn’t a lawman around who would believe both women were killed by an out-of-season hunter’s errant bullets. Oh, she could get away with one of them dead. But two people dead? No. He’d tried to argue his point with Allison, but she refused to listen. Not his problem after today.
He urged his horse into a ground-eating gallop across the flat plain. Up ahead, a mile away, were the two hills clothed in late-summer raiment. A choppy breeze came and went. That wasn’t good. André would have to compensate for this erratic breeze. Still, as he rode, the thundering of his horse’s hooves like music to his pounding heart, André knew that the thickly wooded hills would stop most of the inconstant breeze. It insured a clean shot. Two shots. Two dead people.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
JENKINS tied his horse at the bottom of the hill and climbed upward. The chestnut’s flanks heaved with exertion and foam covered his sleek neck after the long, hard ride. The horse’s fatigue didn’t faze Jenkins as he settled into his sniper position. Around him, the brush protected him from prying eyes. With smooth, flawless motions, he removed the disassembled rifle from the pack and expertly put it together. Once it was on the metal tripod, he tested for a breeze. There was one, and it was inconstant. A bothersome detail but not a big deal.
Peering intently through the scope, he spotted the two riders plodding around a bend in the trail. Soon, they would be in full, unobstructed sight. And soon, they would be dead. The rifle had a silencer so the sound wouldn’t carry. All he had to do was be patient. Patience was something he did very well.
WES PULLED Bolt to a halt next to the chestnut quarter horse. He saw the animal was still breathing hard, so that meant that wherever Thierry had gone he’d done so recently. Bolt was trained to ground tie; as soon as Wes dropped the reins, the horse stood quietly. The gelding would not wander, but would wait in that spot for Wes to return.
Squinting as he turned and looked around the quarter horse, Wes spotted what he wanted—tracks. The rain from the night before had made the area muddy despite the grass on the lower slope. The footprint was a male, too long and large for a woman. Leaning down, Wes noticed how the tracks went up to the crest of the hill. The grass at the bottom was lush, but as the shade of the trees covered the ground, the grass disappeared.
Wes walked quietly, following the footprints. If Thierry was here and if he had a rifle to hunt, Wes wanted to catch him in the act. The wranglers with the trail rides always carried rifles as protection against charging moose, grizzly bears or elk. While those confrontations occurred rarely, the possibility that they would made it mandatory that a rifle always be handy. Now, Wes wished he had one.
As he quietly tracked the imprints up the shady slope, his mind went back to the dude. To say the least, he was a strange bird. He never joined the activities, always the loner. Never once had Thierry gone out on one of the many trail rides. Wranglers had told Wes that the man preferred to take off on his own. Had he had the backpack on then? Wes wondered. After dude season was over, it was hunting season and hunters from around the world came to the ranch to try and snag a trophy elk or moose rack. Wes had never had an incident with a dude wanting to take a rifle out to kill game out of season. This was a first.
He slipped silently past a clump of thick brush. He was careful not to make it shake or cause rustling noises. He’d hunted all his life and knew how to track his quarry. The big difference between him and the trophy hunters was that any animal he shot meant meat on the dinner table. Nothing was wasted with the taking of an elk’s or deer’s life. Wyoming ranchers hunted in season to feed their family. A rack and its height or points didn’t mean a thing to them.
Stopping halfway up the hill, Wes listened. He glanced back downward and saw the two horses standing quietly. Keying his hearing, Wes thought he heard two women talking. It had to be Iris and Kam coming down the trail between the hills. Wes removed his hat, wiped his brow with the back of his arm and settled it back on his head. Why would Thierry be here? He had to know this was a highly used trail morning and night for dude rides. If he was a hunter, he certainly wouldn’t set up in such a busy area, because wildlife would avoid it at all costs.
Wes searched the shaded and shadowy hillside above him.
None of this made sense. For whatever reason, a deep fear kicked in. Fear for Iris and Kam. That was a silly feeling, of course. But if this guy was hunting, they might be caught in his line of fire.
Wes’s heart thudded in his chest. Adrenaline crashed into his bloodstream as reality gripped him. Wes touched the left side of his belt where he kept a six-inch hunting knife in a leather sheath. He studied the brush above him, looking for anything that resembled a man’s shape but saw nothing.
Urgency pushed him forward. He followed the vague imprints quickly and tried to be careful about not making any noise. Already, he could hear Iris laughing. It sounded like the two of them were having a good chuckle over something that she had said. Wes tried to breathe silently through it as he dug the points of his boots into the damp soil and lunged forward. It was inconceivable anyone would shoot a rifle when they could clearly hear people nearby. Hunters knew bullets traveled a mile and could kill whatever they struck. Wes’s fear suddenly turned to outright terror.
AS HE captured the two women in his sniper scope, Jenkins’s mouth pulled into a slight smile. Within the next minute, they would present clear, unobstructed shots. His finger was firm against the trigger. As always, he kept his breathing shallow. A sense of unequaled power soared through him. Neither woman knew that her life would be snuffed out. He felt like God. A slight breeze moved past him and Jenkins frowned, his eye pressed to the scope. The wind came from another direction. He hated this type of weather where one couldn’t predict the direction of the wind.
Just thirty seconds more…
His skin became wildly sensitive, his hearing excruciatingly sharp. Jenkins felt more animal than human. These sensations always overcame him seconds before the actual kill. He watched the two women ride side by side, talking animatedly and laughing. They would never know what hit them.
A twig snapped behind André and he started. Should he turn or hold steady on his targets?
Before André could decide, he heard a crashing sound coming through the bush—right at him. Jerking his head from the scop
e, he turned. Eyes widening, he saw Wes Sheridan flying through the air at him.
Wes slammed into the man full-force. The lunge sent him into the earth. The horror of Thierry’s goal fueled Wes’s rage. Blown away by the shock, Wes disregarded his own safety in order to save them.
They rolled end over end, the branches snapping and tearing off. As he balled his fist, Wes landed on top of the struggling man. His fist landed squarely on his nose, and Wes heard the crunch of breaking bone. A sense of satisfaction thrummed through him. Blood spurted from the Frenchman’s nostrils.
In the next second, the man arced a left fist and it connected with Wes’s temple, sending him sideways.
Thierry leaped to his feet. Breathing hard, he glared down at the cowboy. He lifted his foot, pulled it back and sent it outward to catch the cowboy in the rib cage. But Wes moved fast enough to avoid the blow. Off balance from the thrust, Thierry cried out and fell.
Wes was on his feet as the man slipped in the mud. Though his temple throbbed, Wes didn’t feel the pain. The adrenaline kept surging through him. Leaning down, Wes grabbed the dude by the collar of his shirt. Just as he thought he’d subdued the killer, Thierry thrust his fist upward and caught Wes on the right cheek. It was just the break the man needed as Wes went down. Before he could recover, Thierry leaped over several small bushes and tore down the hill to his horse.
Shaking his head, Wes got to his feet and staggered. Bright lights danced in front of his eyes. His cheek ached like fire. Thierry was getting away! Cursing, Wes ran to the crest of the hill. Below, he saw Kam and Iris looking up at the commotion with puzzled expressions. They didn’t know what was going on, but at least they were safe. Wes had no time to tell them what had just happened. Whirling around, Wes ran down the hill, zigzagging around the larger bushes. He held up his arm to protect his face, slipping and sliding down the slope. Below, the dude raced for the horses.
Shadows from the Past Page 24