Montana Refuge. Alice Sharpe

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СКАЧАТЬ There was one spot that had always filled her with peace when she felt this way and she headed there now. She would go to the river even though it meant riding by the century-old ranch house she and Tyler had shared during their marriage.

      The house was still there, two stories of white shingles, a broad porch, barns and pastures and corrals. Tyler’s truck wasn’t pulled up out front and she wondered if he’d moved back to the main house after she left. The place had a deserted appearance.

      Eventually, as she got closer to the river, the land began to slope gently downward until it sported underbrush, trees and wandering animal trails. She heard the rush of water before she saw it, catching sparkling glimpses through the branches as she headed to the bend where she knew a downed tree arched over the water.

      This was the place on the ranch she’d missed the most, her private spot where she’d come to think and dream and work things out in her head—the one place where she could be sure to be alone.

      The breeze ruffled the boughs overhead. The smell of flowers and grass chased away some of the insecurities and fears that had driven her here and she knew the sound of moving water would calm her. She pulled the horse to a stop after a while, preparing to get off and walk him down the steeper bank to water’s edge, but stopped when a glimpse of something big and brown down by the river caught her eye. Her first thought was that a bear had wandered down from the mountains.

      And then she realized it was a horse. Babylon sensed this, too, and made a little sound in his throat.

      Her heart made a startled leap and it was a measure of where her head was that the only thought that sprang to mind was that Roger Trill had somehow teleported himself from her apartment to the river. Babylon gave a contented whinny and the horse by the river responded by tossing his head and staring up the slope.

      She finally recognized Yukon, the dark gold gelding with the almost perfect white star on his forehead. Tyler’s horse. Peering more closely through the trees, she glimpsed a tall figure standing atop the log, gazing downstream, apparently unaware of her presence, probably because the noise of the rushing water under the downed trunk drowned out everything else.

      The sight of him standing where she’d so often sat for hours startled her. On the other hand, now was her chance. She had him cornered—he’d have to listen to her. She started to dismount and then paused.

      It felt like an ambush. She’d already pushed herself on him and he’d made his feelings about her clear. Could she really confront him while he stood literally out on a limb?

      What was he doing here? With a cattle drive starting in the morning, he didn’t have time for idleness. Undecided about what to do, she sat there for what seemed like hours, but when he took off his hat, sat down on his heels and stared into the water as though searching for answers, she knew she couldn’t encroach on his space and insist he pay attention to her. You had to ask for help, not demand it. She didn’t have the right or the nerve. Even fear hadn’t pushed her that far—yet.

      As she turned Babylon, she spotted another rider through the trees. A man had stopped his horse farther along and seemed to be sitting astride his mount. Distance and foliage hid his identity from her, but she was almost positive she didn’t know him. Dressed as he was in a Stetson and shades of browns and turned at that angle, he looked like any other cowboy.

      She was afraid to take a breath, and stilled Babylon by leaning forward and running a hand down his powerful, smooth neck. “Quiet, boy,” she whispered, and waited....

      The stranger’s attention stayed riveted on Tyler. In fact, he seemed totally oblivious to her presence and by the way he’d positioned himself, she got the distinct feeling he was doing his best to be invisible to anyone down at the river.

      Julie urged Babylon forward, turning to glance over her shoulder when they broke the trees, heart drumming against her ribs as she imagined the stranger coming after her.

      But he didn’t.

      Which raised the question: Did Tyler know he was being watched?

      * * *

      TYLER ARRIVED BACK at the lodge to find the guests, a couple of the wranglers and his mother seated around three of the dining room’s round oak tables.

      He made a quick head count and realized there was an additional person, who must have arrived while he was blowing off steam at the river. Figuring it must be the doctor they’d been expecting, Robert Marquis, he looked for the newcomer. The only one he could see was a woman of about thirty-five with dark hair and rhinestone glasses perched on a pert nose. She wore a blue neck bandanna and a red-and-white-checked shirt and was seated at a table with Red Sanders, the Boston lawyer, and John Smyth.

      Well, maybe they’d gotten the name wrong. Maybe it was Roberta Marquis.

      Tyler steered himself their direction and sat down at an empty place next to the woman. Across the room he saw his mother staring at him with a strained expression.

      What was that about?

      The easy conclusion to reach was that she’d seen Julie, although he imagined if that was true, she would have insisted she join them for dinner. Her glance seemed to stray to his left—was she staring at John Smyth?

      Each table sported large platters of ham and potatoes, bowls of salads, baskets of bread, pitchers of juice and a carafe each of cabernet and chardonnay wine. Everyone helped themselves à la family-style, which they’d found over the years fostered a feeling of camaraderie that would be cemented out on the trail.

      John Smyth nodded at Tyler as he scooped potatoes onto his plate.

      Tyler introduced himself to the two people he’d yet to meet. The lawyer was surprisingly quiet given the flamboyance of his mustache and those buckskin chaps, but that might be explained by his frequent tips of the carafe into his wineglass. Heavy drinkers could be a problem out on the range and Tyler made a mental note to keep an eye on Red. The woman turned out to be a real estate broker from California.

      “I was at a conference,” the woman who introduced herself as Meg Peterson from Sherman Oaks, California, said. “You’ve never seen so many depressed people at one place, not ever. What with this economy...” Her voice trailed off. Tyler thought she might currently live in California, but she harbored a distinct Minnesota accent. She turned to John, her hands flying as she talked.

      “I was checking out of the hotel, wishing I didn’t have to go home yet,” she continued, “and then the desk clerk showed me a brochure of this ranch. Why I took off right then just on the chance the ranch would have room for another guest for a few days and discovered I was in time to take part in a cattle drive!” She nodded at Tyler’s mother. “That dear lady signed me right up. Rose is just a peach.”

      “Have you ever ridden horses or been around cattle?” Tyler asked. It was unlike Rose to agree to greenhorns with so little time to evaluate their skills and give them the basics.

      “I ride all the time at home,” she said. “I just couldn’t be more excited if I was going to Disneyland.”

      “I know you’ll enjoy yourself,” Tyler said. He turned to Red who seemed to have fallen asleep sitting up and then to John Smyth. “You got here early this morning, Mr. Smyth. Did you find enough to do to keep you busy?”

      “Call me John, please. Sure, I took a ride, saw a couple of hawks and practiced roping a sawhorse. You get the cows to stand still and СКАЧАТЬ