Along Came a Cowboy, page 11
“But we don’t care if they spot our campfire?” Carter asked.
“Not one bit. I like to spook them. It keeps them from sleeping too soundly, and makes them fret about being caught in the dark.” Monty was much more agreeable now that they’d stopped for the night, almost garrulous.
“With the horses,” Monty added, “we can change our position faster. Besides, I don’t like cold beans. Or missing my morning coffee.”
Carter tilted his hat and dragged the back of his hand over his forehead. Allie also enjoyed her coffee and he regretted tipping her cup before the roping lesson. He should have let her enjoy it. So what if that meant she’d need a bathroom break or start a rush of coffee drinkers. It wasn’t as if she intended to be a professional roper, and there was a toilet in the barn.
One thing was certain, if she had her way she’d be lighting a campfire, at least long enough to boil water. Janet might be savvy enough to avoid a fire though.
He felt a measure of empathy for both women. It was far easier to be the pursuer than the pursued. Yet despite the rigors of the race, people still clamored to compete. He’d never want to be the quarry but he could certainly enjoy the tracker’s job. At least he didn’t have to fret about the safety of his horses when he hit the road. He didn’t have to worry about vengeful girlfriends either, or what he might find when he returned. Or not find.
He dragged a heavy hand over his jaw. Quickly lowered his arm when he realized Monty was watching.
“Circuit beat you up?” Monty asked. “Is that why you retired?”
“It just seemed the right time to leave,” Carter said. He missed competitive roping and didn’t tolerate questions at the best of times. He certainly didn’t want to think about Smokey and how he’d failed to protect his horses. But Monty just stared, his expression patient, as if he would wait hours for an answer.
“I don’t have any dependents,” Carter said. “Not even any livestock to look after. My folks are well set up now. Seemed like a good time to try something new.”
“Sure. It’s a relief not to have anyone depending on you. And escaping in the woods on a quiet trail horse versus making big money in the arena and fending off buckle bunnies, I get it.”
Carter scanned Monty’s face, searching for sarcasm. But the old cowboy wasn’t even smiling. In fact, he looked serious.
“It’s convenient to have a herd to choose from,” Monty went on. “And it’s safer to keep them at arm’s length. But you’ll still develop favorites. No sense fighting it. They can’t always be judged on their looks.”
“Are we talking horses or women?”
“Both,” Monty said, lifting an eyebrow as if surprised by the question.
Carter gave a negligible shrug. He’d never judged a horse by its looks, or people either. Jenica had been a stunner and she’d ended up smearing his reputation and sending his horses to a brutal death. He could handle the former; the latter would never stop hurting. Although he supposed he did distrust beautiful women more than ugly ones, horses too.
But he didn’t want to think about that. Or talk about it either.
“Speaking of women,” he said. “Where do you suppose they are? Is it typical not to see any tracks for an entire day?”
“Happened to me once before,” Monty said. “Two hockey players dropped their map when Kate and I galloped up. They were tough though. Kept competing even though they had no clue where they were going.”
“If the girls lost their map, they might be mixed up,” Carter said, relieved they were back on a more comfortable topic. “Or maybe they dropped their compass.” A compass was critical, especially if the sun were hidden. Although it looked like tomorrow would be another clear day. The moon was already visible and the western horizon was stained with red.
“If we don’t see a fire tonight,” Monty said, “we’ll retrace our route. I’m surprised we don’t see a flame, or at least smell their smoke. Girls like them will crave the comfort of a campfire. The forest can feel alien.”
Carter stared unseeingly over the rapids. He remembered the one and only time his father had taken his younger cousin camping. She’d hated it, freaking out about flies and wolves and bears. Her distress had been gut-wrenching, and they’d cut their trip short, deciding it was kinder to take her home. It still bothered him to imagine any woman experiencing that sort of misery.
“You can’t feel sorry for them,” Monty said.
“I don’t,” Carter said quickly.
Monty sighed then stooped and pulled a flask from his saddlebag. “A drink of whiskey helps everything.” He unscrewed the lid and passed it to Carter. “Remember, we’re not here to save anyone. And you need to concentrate on catching Janet. That is, if you want the job.”
“I want it,” Carter said. He tilted his head and took a sip, careful not to drink too much. The fact that Monty was sharing his whiskey was a good sign but the man was out here evaluating his performance. He couldn’t afford to be viewed as someone who liked their liquor. And he also didn’t want Monty to report that he was soft-hearted with women.
“I’ll stay up late,” he said, hardening both his voice and his resolve. “And watch for their fire so we can take advantage of the girls’ fear. Then we can run them down first thing in the morning.”
Monty gave an approving grunt and took another sip of whiskey.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Allie’s knees quivered, barely able to hold her weight. She kept her eyes fixed on the white label of Janet’s backpack, determinedly lifting each leg, pleading with herself for the strength to take just one more step. No way was she losing sight of her partner, even if it was killing her to keep up. At least there were some advantages to walking at night: cooler temperatures, absence of flies, and a full moon that provided the perfect lantern. However, she was aching, exhausted and admittedly a little spooked.
She used some of her flagging energy to check over her shoulder. Not that she expected two mounted riders to burst from the woods, with hats pulled low and ropes swinging. No cowboy liked to risk his horse by galloping in the dark. But there were lots of other eerie sounds, ones that were barely noticeable when roasting marshmallows but very unsettling in the creepy gloom. And while she knew the hooting owl and yipping coyotes weren’t a threat, they made the back of her neck prickle.
“Think we should stop soon?” she asked once again, pushing the words out between her ragged breath.
“Not until I find the Mustang River,” Janet said. “It’s the only way I’ll be able to reach the bridge before the end of day four.”
We, Allie thought. So we can reach the bridge. But she didn’t have enough energy to make the correction. It wouldn’t make a bit of difference anyway, considering Janet’s self-absorption. It was surprising Rebecca had even agreed to partner with her.
For a brief moment, Allie forgot to concentrate on lifting each leg and carefully setting it down. A root snagged her boot and she lurched forward. Only her outstretched hand kept her from smashing her face into the dirt. Janet didn’t slow though and Allie staggered to her feet. She wouldn’t be stuck alone in the dark, couldn’t, and that insidious fear gave her the energy to catch up.
“Can you...carry the tent...for a while?” she panted. Other than the first hour, Janet hadn’t carried the nylon tent once. Now it felt like a cement bag, pressing the straps of the pack deeper into her shoulders, chafing her sweaty skin, and accentuating the blisters on her feet.
“Carrying the extra stuff was Rebecca’s job. And you’re her fill-in.” Janet spoke without a trace of breathlessness. Or sympathy. “I bet she wouldn’t have complained.”
“And I bet she’s relieved not to be here,” Allie said. “Considering you’re so damn selfish.” All day, she’d kept her feelings to herself but her brain was too exhausted to contain her thoughts and the words escaped before she could clamp her mouth shut. It actually felt rather liberating. Besides, the woman was a competitor, not a guest.
Janet swung around. “Finally, you admit it,” she said. “You can’t keep up to me.”
Allie shook her head. She’d kept up to this woman all day, with no encouragement other than Janet’s occasional look of disbelief. She’d savored those moments when Janet had turned to find her right on her heels. And they’d jogged twenty extra miles because of this woman’s inability to read a compass.
“If it wasn’t for me,” Allie said, lurching to a stop and pulling in some badly needed air, “you’d still be running in the wrong direction. That will make for a very interesting blog.”
“You can’t post it! Sharon signed an agreement. Approved coverage only.”
Allie sank to the ground, her legs no longer able to hold her weight. At least Janet had stopped walking. Allie had learned the best way to grab a break was to talk about publicity. If they kept on the subject of social media, it might be possible to wring out another few minutes of rest.
“I can’t remember if I signed a confidentiality agreement though,” Allie said, pretending to wrinkle her nose in thought.
“You did! And you’re a ranch employee.” Janet crowed in triumph. “So you can’t write anything negative.”
“A pity.” Allie lay prone on the ground now, panting as she stared up at the fat yellow moon. “Because you’re not a very good trail companion.”
“Oh, quit griping. Besides, you’re doing okay,” Janet said, her tone grudging. “Way better than I expected. But if you’re tired, I suppose we can stop for the night. Are you going to collect some firewood or just lay there complaining?”
“I’m going to complain for another minute,” Allie said. She couldn’t muster the effort to remove her pack and felt like an upended turtle, slow, helpless, vulnerable.
Janet rummaged in her pack for waterproof matches, all the while nattering about substitute partners who were too lazy to collect firewood. Allie ignored her, staring up at the night sky. It wasn’t really dark up there, not with the full moon and brilliant stars. The Big Dipper appeared to be pointing to the Mustang River Bridge. Kate had always said to take both day and night bearings, in case she was ever lost. And that the important thing was to stay calm and not panic. Kate had also said that lighting a fire would be sure to bring rescuers.
Which, in this case, they didn’t want.
“We can’t light a fire,” she croaked. She wanted one, badly. It might quell the feeling that the trees were closing in, bringing with them every evil thing that hid in the woods. The stalker movie she’d watched last week had been a poor choice. It was hard getting it out of her head, and out here she didn’t have any people for distraction.
“We can’t light a fire,” she repeated mournfully. Perhaps Janet would override her.
“Yes, we can,” Janet snapped, already brushing dried twigs into a pile. “Don’t be so lazy. Get up and find some wood.”
“We can’t light a fire. They’ll see it.”
Janet let her long sigh fill the silence. “Yes, I suppose they would,” she finally said. It was clear she craved a fire too, and that knowledge was rather endearing, proving the woman wasn’t an unfeeling machine.
Janet thrust the matches back in her pack and pulled out a canister. “At least we both have bear spray,” she said, waving the can. “We can sleep with it close by. This will keep away the bogeyman.”
“We better move our food away though,” Allie said. “So it doesn’t attract animals.” She pushed herself to a sitting position, still marveling at Janet’s stamina.
“Good idea,” Janet said. “We’ll put the food in one pack and stick it up a tree. Then pitch our tent and grab some sleep. Tomorrow morning we’ll make it to the Mustang River. Then we can follow the riverbank to the bridge. Now that we know the right direction, it’ll be easy.”
It won’t be that easy, Allie thought. If they’d been allotted four days to make it to the bridge, it must mean the terrain was rough. They’d made up most of their lost ground by walking past midnight, but they still needed to evade Carter and Monty. She didn’t want to burst Janet’s bubble though, especially since the woman was being rather agreeable.
“You walk back down the trail,” Janet went on. “Climb a big tree and stash the pack. I’ll pitch the tent.”
It was typical that Janet had grabbed the easier job. On the other hand, Allie was so exhausted that even snapping tent poles together would be a challenge. She closed her eyes, deciding it would be simpler to sleep without a tent.
“Get up.” Janet rammed the toe of her boot into Allie’s thigh. “Put your food in my pack and give me the tent. I’ll find a flat area behind those scruffy trees.”
Allie staggered to her feet. Sweat drenched her. Her shirt was wet and filthy, and her thick ponytail stuck to the back of her neck. Conversely, now that she wasn’t moving, the night air left her clammy. She wanted to soak in a warm sudsy tub, but mostly she wanted to sleep. Five more minutes, she promised herself as she helped Janet put the food in one pack.
Her aching muscles screamed a protest as she hoisted the food pack over her shoulders. Then she laboriously retraced their steps, scanning both sides of the darkened trail, searching for a tree that would be easy to climb. Behind her, Janet rustled in the brush, looking for a flat spot for the tent.
Allie slowed, reluctant to move too far away from the only human in the vicinity. She was thirty feet down the trail now, probably a safe distance. Or was it?
Kate had recited chilling tales of bears drawn by camp odors. However, Allie couldn’t remember the recommended distance to stash food, and she was too tired to worry. Her brain had crashed along with her body. Besides the perfect tree loomed on her left, with a thick trunk and gnarly branches that hung over the trail. It would be easy to climb, even with her exhaustion.
She adjusted the pack over her shoulders, stuck her toe in the first notch of limbs and dragged herself up. The branches were low and wide, the rough bark easy to grab. She hung the pack about ten feet up, making sure it faced the outer side of the trail—just in case Carter and Monty came along—then began climbing back down.
A terrified scream split the darkness, so bloodcurdling she lost her handhold and almost tumbled from the tree.
She tightened her grip, then twisted, staring wide-eyed toward the sound of pounding feet. Janet was sprinting down the trail followed by a huge black shadow. For a moment Allie couldn’t move, could only grip the branch in fear. A giant grizzly? A sasquatch with a distorted head? She shrank against the branch, then realized Janet was running for her life. From an enraged moose.
Galvanized, she scooted further along the limb.
“Here, Janet!” she called, locking an arm and both legs around the branch. “Grab my hand!”
Janet didn’t need any further encouragement. She bolted toward the tree and gave an Olympian leap, snagging the branch with one hand and Allie’s wrist with the other.
“Don’t drop me!” she wailed, her pleading eyes holding Allie’s as she tried to hook her legs over the branch.
“I won’t,” Allie promised. But Janet was wiggling, almost yanking Allie’s arm out of its socket. “Wrap your legs around the limb and hold still. The moose can’t reach you here.”
But Allie wasn’t confident either of them was out of harm’s way. The moose was enraged, shaking its head and striking at the tree with huge hooves, sending bark flying like shrapnel. At least, Janet was holding more of her own weight now, clinging upside down to the limb like a monkey while keeping a death grip on Allie’s arm.
“You’re okay,” Allie whispered. “Just be quiet. Don’t move.”
The moose seemed confused, striking its hooves at a neighboring tree as if uncertain of their location. A musky smell filled the air along with a plaintive wail.
The moose grunted and wheeled, passing so close beneath them, its huge ears were close enough to touch. It trotted back down the trail, its dark form fading into the night.
“He’s gone,” Allie said, grateful when Janet finally released her arm and shimmied up beside her on the branch.
“It’s a she.” Janet’s voice quivered. “I stumbled over her calf.”
“Oh,” Allie said, silent for a moment. “Rotten luck.”
“Yes.”
She felt a choke of emotion and realized Janet was making similar sounds. They perched on the limb, half laughing, half crying, their relief escaping in a hysteria of giggles and sobs.
“Thank you,” Janet said, much later when they were both wiping tears from their faces. “You’re very brave. I don’t think even Rebecca would have done that.”
“And you can sure run fast,” Allie said. “And jump too. I can see why you won a gold medal.”
“And I can see why you’re a good dancer.”
Allie shot her a sideways look, searching for sarcasm. But Janet was staring at her with nothing but gratitude.
“How’s your arm?” Janet added. “I was pulling pretty hard.”
“It’s okay.” But when Allie raised her hand such pain radiated across her shoulder it left her wincing. “It does hurt a bit,” she admitted. “My shoulder, not my arm.”
Janet leaned closer, the moonlight showcasing the concern on her face. “It might be dislocated. I can probably manipulate it back in. But not now. No way am I leaving this tree until morning.”
Allie nodded, remembering the size and force of those cloven hooves. “I think that’s wise,” she said.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The dawn sun was clear and optimistic but Allie couldn’t help but stiffen as Janet hovered above her.
“Just lie back and relax,” Janet said, rubbing Allie’s arm. “I’ve popped shoulders back lots of time. It’s a common sports injury. Besides, I’m not doing it yet. I’m just moving your arm around a bit. I’ll let you know before I do it.”
Allie slowly relaxed. It was much easier lying on the ground than balancing on a tree limb. They’d spent a sleepless night, talking about everything from their first boyfriends to their favorite types of pizza, climbing down only after the sun had inched over the trees.
