Along Came a Cowboy, page 10
“Let me rope Allie, okay?” he asked. “If it comes to that.”
“Sure,” Monty said. “You’re the big expert. But the real challenge will be catching Janet. If you want to replace me in this job, she’s the one you should be gunning for. Allie’s a non-factor.”
“Sure she is,” Carter said, speaking a little too quickly. He felt Monty’s appraisal but busied himself slapping a deerfly on Hawk’s neck. The silence stretched, punctuated only by the rhythmic sound of hooves as they thudded in the dirt.
“Everyone loves Allie,” Monty finally said. “But you’re wasting your time. She’s running scared.”
“You mean in the race?” Carter stared over his horse’s ears, careful to keep his voice neutral, as if he didn’t give a damn about the topic. Monty might be close to retirement but the man was observant.
“I mean in life.”
Carter glanced sideways, forgetting to pretend disinterest. “What do you mean? She’s always smiling, happy. Surrounded by men...people.”
“Yup,” Monty said. “But they’re her security blanket. Like a horse that’s afraid to leave his buddies.”
Carter tugged his hat lower over his forehead. Allie was usually the center of attention, with guests as well as co-workers. He’d originally thought she craved the attention, but admittedly there was something about her that drew people. It certainly drew him. And though he wracked his brain, he couldn’t remember a time when he’d seen her alone.
Except yesterday when she arrived early to set up the roping dummies. She’d been alone then, trying her best to help, and he hadn’t even told her how much he appreciated the effort. He’d been too busy brooding over his aborted career, and then pissed that he’d almost lost his cat.
Maybe she’d escaped a toxic relationship too.
“Was she married before?” he asked. Part of him was amazed he was having this type of conversation with crusty old Monty. But he couldn’t deny his jolt of adrenaline every time he heard Allie’s name. So if Monty were willing to talk about her, he was more than happy to participate.
“Nope,” Monty said. “She came here fresh out of community college. Never goes home, never takes vacation, never talks about family. She’s a good listener so nobody notices. And Boss keeps her busy.” He gave a wry shake of his head. “But I’ve lost a lot of wranglers because of that girl. Their hearts get broken and they don’t want to stick around. And Boss will always choose her over anyone else, so be warned. Now let’s step up the pace.”
Monty urged Banjo into a lope that halted further conversation and greatly pleased Carter. He didn’t need any warnings about women, nor did he want to hear about all of Allie’s men. He most definitely did not want to hear about them.
They backtracked, loping when the ground was good, long trotting when it turned rocky. Eventually they reached the spot where they’d first spotted the frantic heel marks.
“They must have sprinted for a few hundred feet,” Monty said. “Then stopped, hid their trail, and continued in the same direction. Dammit. They’re probably an hour ahead by now.”
Carter said nothing. Monty wasn’t looking for feedback, just musing aloud. Besides, this was okay. He was rather relieved they hadn’t caught Allie too quickly. Certainly her cheering section back at the ranch would be pleased.
Minutes later, Monty jabbed a finger at the rocky side of the trail. “There,” he said. “That’s where they ducked off.”
A broken branch and some disturbed moss on a granite boulder marked the women’s exit. If he and Monty had checked a little further in the trees, they might have noticed that the women had veered off the path. But they’d turned their horses around, too quick to assume their quarry had bolted in the opposite direction.
The women had probably been lying close to the trail the entire time, laughing that they’d given them the slip. Heard everything they’d said... Carter’s mouth lifted in grudging amusement although he made sure Monty didn’t see.
“That Janet woman is a thinker,” Monty said, his irritation evident. “And the longer they stay out here, the more confident they’ll get. Let’s push the horses hard. The trail splits in five miles and I want to catch them before that.”
Carter stroked Hawk’s warm neck, watching his horse’s ears. Monty had the advantage of knowing this area like the back of his hand but Carter trusted his horse. And Hawk’s nostrils were flaring, his attention pinned on something in the trees.
“Let’s take a second,” Carter said. “Walk in and see if they’re still hiding. Hawk is interested in something.”
“You go in,” Monty said. “I’ll stay here and hold the horses.”
Carter stepped down from the saddle and passed over Hawk’s reins, not surprised Monty wasn’t eager to battle his way through the thick woods. No self-respecting cowboy would walk when he could ride.
He stepped around the boulders then pushed his way into the trees, stooping and shoving aside the clinging branches. The scrubby trees were so dense it seemed impossible that a human could penetrate far. One thing for sure, the women were motivated. And that was useful information; it would help him anticipate their future movements.
Five minutes later, he found the spot where they’d hidden. The ground was cold to the touch but the smell of insect repellant lingered, another useful piece of information. Probably Hawk had picked up the sharp smell. And the horse would do it again.
Carter eased back to the trail, grateful to escape the stifling brush and remount his horse. “Yes, that’s where they hid,” he said. “They’ve been gone awhile but I could still smell fly repellant.”
“Good work,” Monty said. “I bet we pick up their trail just around the bend. If their tracks disappear again, we can assume they’re hiding close by. It worked for them once so they’re likely to try it again. You can walk in and flush them out.”
“Sure,” Carter said. “But no roping, okay? Even if they jump out in front of you.”
Monty only grunted.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“Shouldn’t the sun be in front of us?” Allie asked, her breath so labored she could barely push out the words. She and Janet had been alternately running and jogging for what felt like hours. She didn’t know the exact time—her watch and phone had been confiscated before the race. But it was definitely the afternoon and if they were supposed to be heading west, something was wrong.
“Don’t be stupid,” Janet muttered. But she stopped, dropped her pack and yanked out the compass.
Allie slumped to the ground, too tired to remove her pack. The tent had seemed light when first added to her load. Now it felt like a hundred pounds. The straps of the pack cut into her shoulders and sweat ran down her forehead, the salt stinging her eyes. She unscrewed her water bottle, took several gulps then dumped the entire contents over her burning face.
“Don’t waste your water,” Janet said, not looking up from the map. “We should have brought more bottles.”
“Yeah,” Allie croaked. It was astounding how much water they needed. Even though they filled their bottles at every stream, they always ran out. At least there was running water close by, along with a slab of rock so they could keep their feet dry when refilling.
Her gaze narrowed on the grayish black rock. The slab looked familiar, much like the one they’d seen hours ago when Janet had commented it was the same height as an Olympic podium. She was always making remarks like that, as if intent on reminding Allie of her supremacy. But maybe the woman wasn’t so superior at reading a compass.
“I think we’re going in circles,” Allie said.
“Impossible,” Janet snapped, but there was a hint of panic in her voice along with something far more worrisome—resignation.
“Let me take a look at the map,” Allie offered. “And the compass.”
“If I can’t read it,” Janet said, “someone like you certainly can’t.” But she tossed both the map and compass on Allie’s lap before stomping toward the stream.
Allie flattened the paper over her thigh. The map didn’t show the smaller hiking trails but all the wider logging roads were marked, along with the Mustang River. They’d only run into several small streams, certainly not the huge river. So that meant they were only slightly off course or else they had somehow circled back and were moving in the wrong direction.
Kate always said anyone could use a compass, just point the black needle to the north, so Allie lined up the compass and stared at the quivering needle. She stared a long moment, reluctant to accept her findings. Then she rechecked the bearings and studied it a second time. The truth couldn’t be denied.
They had traveled in a circle. All that running had been a colossal waste of time.
She dropped her head in her hands, trembling with exhaustion. If only Janet hadn’t been so secretive with the map, acting as if Allie was a competitor rather than a partner.
“So what do you think, Einstein?” Janet walked up from the stream, pausing to sip from her water bottle.
“We’re only a mile away from our starting point,” Allie said dully. She wanted to yell and scream but lacked the energy to point blame, still struggling to accept all those agonizing miles. Wasted miles.
Janet huffed and grabbed the map. She didn’t speak for a moment then began cursing the race organizers, the trackers and everyone else employed at the ranch. “These are terrible directions!” she snapped. “It’s like they wanted me to lose.”
The woman was completely self-centered and Allie was getting sick of it. She lay on the ground, staring at the darkening sky, too tired to care about ticks or ant nests or even spiders. There were still patches of blue, but clouds were skudding in and the sun resembled a bruised raspberry. Another few hours and it would be sunset.
They might make it back to the ranch in time for supper. At least now they didn’t have to worry about snapping branches or speaking in whispers. Clearly Carter and Monty were nowhere in the vicinity. Monty had probably never chased such a clueless pair.
Janet still paced in a circle, ranting about how fickle sports fans were and how an Olympic gold medal meant crap. One thing for sure, the woman had stamina. But she didn’t seem at all contrite about her navigation failure. “I’ll never land any endorsements now,” she whined. “This sucks. If Rebecca were with me, this wouldn’t have happened.”
Allie closed her eyes, shutting out the woman. Soothing such a narcissistic personality was draining. Besides, she’d be home soon, where she could have a good meal and a relaxing soak in the hot tub and there was no doubt she could find a helpful wrangler or two to rub her feet. Carter and Monty would win, and that was just fine because Janet didn’t deserve to beat them.
On the other hand, it would be a quick and hollow victory...and maybe not enough to land Carter a permanent job.
She cracked open her eyes. Janet was still pacing, still griping about the poorly drawn map and lost endorsements, and how Rebecca had promised this was a chance to regain some media attention.
“Maybe you can still win,” Allie said. “It’s not like we’ve been caught yet. So it’s not really over.”
“You mean keep racing?” Janet scoffed. “Even with a whole day wasted?”
“We’re definitely at a disadvantage,” Allie said. “We have to make up a lot of ground. But we can stick to the main trails now because Carter and Monty aren’t anywhere close.”
The men would never imagine their quarry was back at the starting point. They’d be going up and down abandoned logging roads, searching for sign that would never be found. That was actually quite convenient.
“So it would come down to speed,” Janet said, finally stopping her agitated pacing. “I suppose as long as we’re behind them, we can really motor.”
“Exactly,” Allie said, checking the horizon. “We might be able to walk until midnight if the moon gives enough light.”
“And there’ll be no need to hide our trail,” Janet said, “since the men are way ahead.” She stuck the compass in front of Allie’s face. “But first, show me our route. Convince me this instrument isn’t broken.”
“I assume Rebecca intended to be the navigator,” Allie said. It was rather ironic that she was the expert now, especially since she’d never used a compass before.
“Yes.” Janet’s nod was grudging. “And we were going to separate by the river so she could act as my decoy.”
Allie shuddered. She couldn’t imagine being out here alone. “Well, I’m not Rebecca. And we have to stay together. Besides, you don’t need a decoy. Monty and Carter are miles away.”
She took the compass from Rebecca and rose to her feet. “In fact,” she added, “I expect those men are far more confused than we are.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“Not good,” Monty said, lowering his binoculars. “I don’t see the women anywhere on the west slope. They must be hiding in the trees.”
“Or else they didn’t come this way.” Carter kept his voice carefully neutral. Monty was becoming more frustrated as the sun dropped and the man didn’t like to be challenged.
“They couldn’t have grown wings and crossed the river,” Monty said. “Here, you take a look.”
Carter took the binoculars, relieved for a chance to scope the ridge. There’d been no sign of the women since mid-morning and he was questioning if he and Monty were even riding in the right direction.
He spotted a flash of white and his hope spiked. Allie’s long hair maybe? But seconds later a deer leaped over a fallen tree and bounded across the clearing. He glassed the area beside the river and spotted three more grazing deer, but no humans. And the deer wouldn’t be placidly eating if there were two women stumbling along the shore.
“Is it possible they took that logging road a few miles back?” Carter asked, reaching across Hawk’s neck and handing the binoculars back to Monty.
“Nope. That road goes straight to a massive bog. If they tried to cross it, it’s doubtful anyone would see them again.”
Carter swallowed. If a woman needed help, he’d been raised to provide it. Possibly he’d develop some of Monty’s ruthlessness—if he were fortunate enough to land a permanent Man Tracker spot—but right now he couldn’t hide his alarm. “Do you think they’re okay? Is it odd to lose tracks like this? Maybe we should check out that bog in case they’re in trouble.”
“They’re not stupid,” Monty said. “They’re not going to risk their lives for a race. At least Allie won’t.”
Carter tugged his hat a little lower. Janet was the leader, and Monty said Allie wouldn’t want to be alone. It was likely she’d follow wherever Janet led which meant both women could be in danger. “You think Janet is that rash?” he asked.
“She’s out to win at any cost. That could lead to reckless decisions. Certainly we’d help them if we saw them trying to cross the rapids. But we can’t worry about their every move.”
Carter stood in his stirrups, compelled to check the rushing Mustang River one more time. It would be folly to try to cross here, and the main ford was at least ten miles back. Further north there was a wooden bridge but with this rough terrain it would take the women days to reach it. He gripped his saddle horn, almost nauseous thinking of Allie in that white water.
“Allie’s a lifeguard,” Monty said, as if reading his mind. “She’ll know better.”
“But if Janet wants to cross,” Carter said, “and Allie doesn’t like to be alone...”
Monty gave one of his patented shrugs. “Nothing we can do about it. Not tonight anyway. Tomorrow we’ll backtrack, see if we can pick up where they gave us the slip. There’s no way they’d be bushwhacking the entire route. You can’t win a race doing that.”
Monty’s words weren’t totally reassuring but Carter followed the man as they guided their horses down to the river. They watered their animals in a calmer eddy, giving them lots of time to drink before retreating to a secluded meadow with thick grass. The sun was setting, and their horses had been pushed hard. They deserved a rest.
He unsaddled Hawk and gave his horse’s back and legs a thorough inspection. Hawk’s shoes were still reassuringly tight, and there were no cuts or saddle sores.
“Good fellow,” he murmured, pulling a brush from his saddle bags and making sure he removed all the sweat marks.
He wouldn’t want to be afoot in this country. No doubt, Allie was regretting her generous offer to fill in. Maybe she’d already given up and was kicking it up in the dance hall. Perhaps that’s why they hadn’t spotted any tracks.
But Janet wouldn’t quit so easily. She’d made no secret of her desire for a winning performance. They hadn’t seen her boot tread either. In fact, this country was so desolate they hadn’t spotted any fresh tracks, not even those of a random trekker.
He gave Hawk one last pat, then gathered some firewood and dropped it close to a ring of rocks. Monty had already pulled out a steel grill along with their food, and was once again peering through the binoculars.
“This looks like one of your regular campsites,” Carter said, noting the blackened fire pit and the abundance of grass. Monty’s knowledge of the country was legendary, and it was obvious the woodsman knew every meadow and deer trail, along with each curve of the mighty Mustang River.
“Yup,” Monty said. “This is one of my favorite spots. Water, good grass, yet we’re high enough so we can watch the riverbank. Let’s just wait. Don’t light the fire yet.”
Carter joined Monty, scanning the area with his naked eyes. He didn’t see any telltale campfires but the sun hadn’t set. It would be a stroke of luck if the girls lit a fire. He and Monty could hit their bedrolls knowing they hadn’t been riding an entire day in the wrong direction, and that they could easily overtake the women in the morning.
“They have to be out there,” Monty said, the binoculars still pressed against his face. “About fifty percent of people I’ve chased will light a fire. It’s a dead giveaway.”
