Wildfire Read online

  “I work out East, but always wanted to cross the USA on my old Harley. Same one I had in college,” he added with a smile. “Remember? Black, with all the chrome and a red leather seat.”

  She barely nodded.

  “And I finally had a good excuse to make the trip. I’m out here on a photo shoot.”

  Most people were fascinated by his job and promptly peppered him with questions. Tessa’s shoulder lifted in an almost imperceptible shrug.

  “Have at it then,” she said, making a beckoning motion to the riders following her. She touched the brim of her Stetson hat and nodded as she passed by.

  It had been stupid, coming out here to seek out Tessa as an ally. Thinking he could shelve his old emotions easily as a stack of old and inconsequential photographs.

  Because just as before, he felt a flicker of his old, soul-deep attraction to her.

  And all he really needed was to be alone.

  During the following week, Tessa led several overnight pack trips—a group of teachers who came out for a weekend under the stars, then three fly fishermen looking for cutthroat trout up in the higher elevations, where the spring run-off hadn’t turned the water brown with silt.

  Today, she’d gone out alone to check cattle, and things hadn’t been good.

  Gus hobbled out of the main horse barn when she dismounted. “Find the cattle?”

  “I found thirty head loose, about a mile northwest of the summer pasture. The fence was down.” Tessa hauled the saddle and blanket from her gelding’s back and settled them on the hitching rail, then took off her gloves and slapped them against her chaps to shake off the dust. “Ten are missing.”

  He tipped the brim of his hat up with a forefinger. “What did they do, just plow through it?”

  “Nope. The fence posts were upright, but it looked like the barb wire was cut.”

  “Figured there was trouble, just from the look on your face. I know for a fact that those fences were solid just a few weeks ago.”

  Gus had ridden up there alone, something that had worried her from the moment he left until the minute he returned to the ranch, but she’d been busy with calving, foaling and customers who had flown in from Oklahoma, and she’d had no choice but to let him go. Someone had to ride fence on the summer range before they drove cattle up there, and it should have been Ray, her much younger hired hand.

  But Ray had abruptly quit the week before, and there’d been no answers to her advertisement in the local paper. None from the job listing on the ranch’s Web site.

  Today’s disappearance of ten valuable cows was just one more aggravation added to many—and would mean days of searching for them. Meetings with the sheriff. Endless rounds of phone calls and faxes to sales barns in a four state area.

  But it wasn’t only the fence and missing cattle that were bothering her. Gus had been more like a protective uncle than an employee, since her childhood. There was no sense in getting him riled up at hearing that Josh Bryant was in the area. With luck, Josh was already on his way out of Wyoming, and wouldn’t be back.

  “It’s only May 15th,” she said. “Seems too early to be having much trouble with campers, and I don’t think anyone else is starting pack trips up into the high country until the end of next week. Too much snow.”

  “You think it’s them thieves that were over at the Langley ranch?” Gus scratched his jaw. “Five, maybe six head of their black baldies disappeared.”

  “I’ll call Michael.” She untied Dusty and led him over to the pasture gate a few yards away. “There’s a definite advantage to having a brother-in-law who’s a sheriff.”

  Gus nodded. “Good man.”

  And he was right. Michael had been a homicide detective before accepting a job as acting sheriff last year, and had won a special election held in January, when the former sheriff decided to retire due to poor health. He’d certainly brought big-city skills and ideas to this county, something that had been long overdue.

  When he and Tessa’s sister Janna married last month, they’d invited the entire town, and the crowd had nearly overwhelmed the Community Church where most of the McAllisters had attended for generations.

  Claire hadn’t gone in years, just on stubborn principle.

  Tessa hadn’t been much better.

  She gathered up her saddle, bridle and saddle blanket, and lugged them into the tack room just inside the barn. After so many hours in the saddle, her wounded leg ached and she had to concentrate to hide her limp from Gus’s concerned eyes.

  But when she came outside he was still standing there, with his arms folded and a flinty expression on his face.

  “It ain’t safe, you going up in the hills alone. Especially when you’re hurt. Shoulda had me come along,” he said.

  “I needed you here while I was gone, Gus. I can’t let some little accident change how I live my life.”

  “That wasn’t no ‘accident,’ missy,” he retorted.

  “There’s no reason for anyone to take a potshot at me,” she said firmly. Their eyes met, and she knew he was thinking the same thing she was—maybe she didn’t personally have any enemies, but there were plenty of people in the county who had good reason to resent her family. “Anyone call about my ad in the paper?”

  He shook his head. “Nope. And my Sofia just told me that Danny still hasn’t called.”

  Tessa felt her stomach tense at her housekeeper’s message. “He was supposed to stop out on Monday, but he didn’t. I left two messages on his cell phone and e-mailed him last night.”

  Gus snorted in disgust. “You’ve given that boy too many chances already. He runs with a bad crowd, Tess. What happens if he starts drinking on a pack trip?”

  Danny Watkins had worked for her during the past two seasons—ever since Tessa had started her Snow Canyon Ranch Outfitters company. He was just twenty-three years old, but had grown up in the area and was already a highly skilled fishing and hunting guide; personable and charming and responsible…so far.

  But he’d also been in some serious legal difficulty as a teenager, and somewhere along the line, he’d fallen into trouble with alcohol. Last winter he’d been in a fight at a party and had been arrested.

  “He needs this job. The tip money is far more than he could ever make in town, and he’s saving for college.” She bit her lower lip. “He’s never brought any alcohol on a trip. Not once. He promised me he wouldn’t.”

  Gus snorted. “That’s what he says. But a promise ain’t going to hold water if he really feels the need, Tess. You know that.”

  She did. And yet…” I just need to give him a chance. If we cut him loose, what will he do? What kind of job could he find around here? I’ve told him he’ll be fired instantly if there’s ever even a hint of trouble. He understands that.”

  “Maybe that’s why he ain’t calling you back.”

  “Then I guess the decision was his. I’m just trying to be forgiving, Gus.”

  He gave her a long, knowing look, as if he could see straight into her heart. “Too many people want to judge others, and it’s a hurtful thing. You’ve been on the wrong end of that too many times. Just don’t go too far in the other direction. He could do something stupid and cause a lot of harm.”

  She watched Gus shuffle back into the barn, then she turned toward the house.

  She knew all too well about judgmental folks in this town; the ones who resented her mother and who took pleasure at any opportunity to see Claire McAllister or her daughters stumble. Tessa had always done her best to ignore their whispers and lies and sidelong glances, but she’d still had a place at her mother’s ranch, and a blanket of security.

  Danny had nothing—his dad was gone, his mom was disabled. He needed someone to give him a break, and she was going to give him every chance she could…though there were folks in town who didn’t feel the same.

  There’d been another break-in at a remote cabin owned by wealthy, out-of-state people. Someone had hauled away thousands of dollars worth of fancy ele
ctronics, fine art and expensive fly fishing gear.

  It had to be someone who knew the backcountry, because no one had found so much as a clue about the perpetrator’s identity.

  So…just how well did she know Danny and his rowdy friends, and how far could she trust them?

  THREE

  Danny didn’t call, but he did show up the following week, saying he’d lost his cell phone and hadn’t checked e-mail lately, because he’d gone north to hike Mount Moran.

  Tessa breathed a sigh of relief when he pulled up by the barns and stepped out of his old ‘87 Ford pickup with an easy smile on his face. Tall and lean, with the wiry build of a long-distance runner, he looked as if he hadn’t eaten in days, and as always, her first impulse was to invite him in for one of Sofia’s wonderful Mexican meals in an effort to fatten him up.

  “Supper?” She smiled, anticipating his answer.

  His eyes closed in an expression of sheer bliss. “Is Sofia still here?”

  “She and Gus have been here since before I was born, and I hope they’ll stay the rest of their lives. Supper ought to be ready in just a few minutes, so let’s head on up to the house.”

  Danny fell in step with her. “I heard you got shot. You okay?”

  “Just a scratch—some fool target practicing, I suppose. No big deal.”

  He angled a doubtful glance at her leg, clearly noticing her slight limp. “Gonna be up for any pack trips or trail groups this summer?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “How’s the schedule so far? Got many reservations?”

  “It’s always light the first few weeks of the season. But you can still start the end of next week, right? I’ve got a party of four scheduled for a pack trip up into the high country starting Thursday and coming back Sunday.”

  Danny’s eyes gleamed with anticipation. “Fishermen, right?”

  “You got it. With the spring run-off, the water’s too cloudy downstream, but it’s crystal clear up in the high mountains. I’m thinking the confluence of streams below Reacher’s Canyon ought to be nice. The snow has melted at that altitude.”

  He nodded. “Are we dropping these guys off? Or do they want a guide?”

  “Guide. I’ll help you pack them up there, then I’ll meet you on Sunday afternoon to help you bring them back down.” She smiled. “These four are flying in from New York, so if all goes well you’ll probably earn some nice tips.”

  He beamed at her. “Awesome!”

  “We need to talk, though, just so there aren’t any misunderstandings later.”

  They walked up the steps of the big wraparound porch, where she ushered him through the main entrance and past the spacious living room, to the main floor bedroom that she’d converted into an office. She waved him toward a chair, then settled behind her desk and pulled out two copies of an employment contract. She handed him one.

  “Same as last year. Starting date is May 21 which is next Wednesday, through November 1. Same rules—absolutely no alcohol, drugs or cigarettes at any time, whether on Snow Canyon Ranch property or up in the high country. No rough language, either. People spend a lot of money to come out here for the fresh air and clean, beautiful environment. Understood?”

  He ducked his head. “You almost make that sound like an accusation.”

  “I had nothing but compliments about you last year, believe me. Clients said you were a great guide, and many said they’d never been on a better pack trip.” She smiled warmly at him. “I just figured we should start out on the right foot.”

  With his red hair and freckles, his fair skin had always betrayed his emotions all too easily. Now, a bright flush worked up the back of his neck. “You heard about last winter. About that party.”

  She met his eyes. “Yes, Danny. I did.”

  His gaze veered away. “I might have run with the wrong crowd in high school, but that isn’t who I am now. I want to make something of myself, and that one night in January was just a big mistake. Wrong people, wrong place, wrong time. It won’t happen again.” A corner of his mouth lifted in a rueful smile. “I suppose you heard about it from your brother-in-law.”

  “It’s public knowledge. It made that little court reports section in our newspaper. I just wanted to make sure that you and I were square about expectations.”

  He thrust out his right hand and gave hers a firm shake. “We are.”

  Sofia peered around the corner of the open office door and rapped softly on the frame. Her eyes lit up when she saw Danny. “I was hoping you’d join us tonight. Gus isn’t in yet, but supper’s on the table so we’d best get started.”

  Danny followed Sofia and Tessa to the dining room, and took his usual seat. “The tourists are starting early,” he remarked after Sofia gave the table prayer. “And crazy as ever, it looks like.”

  Tessa rolled her eyes. “I can hardly wait for the real influx—bumper to bumper cars heading north. Crazy city drivers. Bear and moose jams on the highway if just one of those people think they see wildlife.”

  “It’s started already.” Danny accepted a platter of fragrant enchiladas from Sofia, helped himself to one, and passed them to Tessa. “There was sure one crazy driver up on Highway 49. I saw skid marks, and it looked like he was going too fast and missed the sharp curve. He must’ve laid his motorcycle on its side before going over the edge, ’cause there was a fender up in the middle of the highway.”

  Tessa felt her heart skip a beat. Tourist season wouldn’t be in full swing for another three or four weeks, and there was little traffic—mostly just local ranch trucks—on these remote roads. “A motorcycle? What kind?”

  “Harley, I think.”

  “What did the bike look like?” she asked sharply.

  A forkful of enchilada halfway to his mouth, Danny looked at her in surprise. “Big and black, with a red leather seat and lots of fancy chrome.” His voice turned wistful. “Can you imagine going cross-country on one of those things?”

  Tessa’s fork clattered to her plate. “Did you see any sign of the owner?”

  “Nope.” He shrugged. “I stood at the top of the cliff and looked, thinking I’d see a body, but there wasn’t anyone down there. I think the rider must’ve bailed out before the bike went over the edge.”

  “You didn’t go down to look?”

  “Believe me, I had a clear view. Anyway, you’d need a good fifty-foot of rope to get there.”

  Tessa pushed her chair away from the table and stood, her uneasiness growing. Josh had said he was still riding the cycle he’d had in college. It fit Danny’s description.

  But no matter who that motorcycle belonged to, nighttime temperatures hovered close to freezing, and if he was still out there, hurt and confused, wandering in the opposite direction of the highway could be a fatal mistake.

  “I’ll be back in an hour,” she called over her shoulder as she ran for her truck keys. “I’ll eat when I get back.”

  “I’m coming, too,” Danny said. A dull red flush crept up the back of his neck, and he angled an apologetic glance at Sofia. “Sorry—but she might need some help.”

  On her way out the door, Tessa flipped open her cell phone and called the sheriff’s department to see if there’d been any ambulance or wrecker calls for a motorcycle accident on Highway 49.

  None—which sent her at a run toward the barn for some rope.

  The dispatcher promised to send out a deputy to check on the situation, but there was no time to lose. The scent of blood could lure predators from miles around. An aggressive bear had been reported in the area.

  And with so few deputies to cover the entire county, help could arrive too late.

  Pain knifed up Josh’s left leg as he struggled to his feet one more time. Blinding, searing pain that sent his stomach roiling with nausea and made black spots dance in front of his eyes.

  The last thing he could remember was coming into a curve and discovering a moose standing in the middle of the road.

  Sometime later—was it minutes? Hour
s? He’d opened his eyes to see a nearly vertical cliff rising above him, a good thirty feet of rocky outcroppings and heavy, almost impenetrable brush.

  God had been with him during the crash, because the Harley must’ve gone airborne to have made it past that rugged terrain, and he’d landed in heavy brush that had slowed his fall. When he’d finally managed to lever himself up enough to look around, he saw the crumpled machine was a good twenty feet away.

  He’d applied a pressure bandage to a deep laceration on his lower leg with his shirt, but it had bled through in no time and had slipped off twice. The leg itself was fractured, he had no doubt about that.

  And calling out for help had been futile. During the hours since the accident he’d heard only a couple of cars go by, and this early in the year there wouldn’t be hikers out on the trails. No one would think to look down here.

  Thirsty beyond bearing, he’d fashioned a makeshift splint out of a Wall Street Journal and a couple of shirts that he’d managed to pull out of the saddle bags on the bike, then he’d tried to follow the distant sound of a stream. He’d alternately crawled and staggered, leaning on a long branch he found nearby, the pain escalating as the swelling increased in his leg.

  He’d finally dropped to the ground, exhausted, which made him guess that his time on earth could be limited. He could deal with the laceration. He could re-bind his makeshift splint. But the dull ache in his side was growing, which could be an indicator of internal injuries. If that was the case, struggling to reach safety could just exacerbate any bleeding.

  And not one person knew where he was.

  The irony bit deep. For the past year, he’d wanted nothing more than solitude. He’d rejected the concern and hovering of his mother and two sisters. Turned away friends. And now, only his editor knew that he was in the Wyoming Rockies, but she certainly didn’t know what part—much less that he’d been on this particular isolated road.

  He looked around, the edges of his vision dimming as another excruciating wave of pain rolled through his belly.