Along Came a Cowboy, page 25
That was worrisome. A man like him valued his privacy. Did the rejection mean he planned to move on? Possibly return to the rodeo? He’d only left the circuit because of Jenica and not feeling worthy of his fans. She blew out an achy breath, remembering how she’d thought him arrogant because he hadn’t wanted his fan mail or to sign autographs. A cocky Mr. July who took everyone’s adoration for granted.
He wasn’t like that at all. She’d never seen him take advantage of his looks or fame. But that deep core of ethics—that ingrained sense of responsibility—might kill their relationship before it really started.
She sniffed away a tear. She wasn’t going to sit and cry. She had to do something. Maybe take a backpack and head off into the woods. Ask Sharon to make Carter find her, calling it practice for Man Tracker or something. She could be lost for days, lose her pack, run into a grizzly—the possibilities were endless.
Only he’d know it was staged. So would she. Then neither of them would feel very good about themselves.
Something clanged on the stairs of the tower, but she kept her eyes closed, too despondent to care. Hopefully, whoever was climbing the exterior stairs wouldn’t see her. She didn’t want to talk, even to a well-intentioned wrangler. Her friends thought she preferred company, but that had changed. And right now she just wanted privacy.
But minutes later, steps shuffled closer. Allie reluctantly cracked open her eyes. Rebecca’s head appeared around the corner, her face flushed. “The cat!” she called. “He’s stuck in the grain bin.”
Allie jerked forward. Someone must have left the inspection hatch open. Sharon would be livid. “Was he chasing a mouse?”
“Quick!” Rebecca said, waving her cane. “You’ll have to climb the stairs and get him. Before he panics and sinks!”
Allie jerked to her feet, galvanized by Rebecca’s alarm. She rushed around the side of the tower and hurried up the winding stairs leading to the hatch.
Just as she feared, the hatch door was open. She stepped onto the narrow ledge and bent over the railing, searching for the cat. And there he was, fifteen feet below, stuck in the grain and staring up at her. Only his head and back were visible. He’d be all right if he didn’t move. But at the sight of her, he gave a pitiful yowl and struggled toward the side of the bin.
Rebecca clanged up the stairs and leaned beside her, still puffing from the exertion.
“He’s okay,” Allie said. “But we need to get a wrangler to bring a board, make a ramp. There’s a safety harness and a ladder—”
Her words turned to a squeal of shock as something lifted her legs. The next second, she was flying through the air, arms flailing, her squeal cut off as grain filled her mouth.
She rolled over on top of the oats, feeling like a clumsy snow angel. She wasn’t hurt but she could have squashed the cat.
“What the hell, Rebecca!” she called.
The woman just stared down, her expression oddly triumphant. “I like you, Allie. I really do. But you messed up everything. I was supposed to be in that race, not you.”
Allie spit the grain from her mouth, still staring in bewilderment. The air was hot down here, stale too. And her movement had stirred up dusty chaff. It stuck deep in her throat, making it hard to breathe. She tried to straighten and scoop up the cat, but now that she was upright, her legs sank, weighing her down until she was waist deep in grain.
She put out her arms, stopping herself from sinking further.
“Okay, you’ve had your fun,” she said. “I’m sorry I was Janet’s partner, not you. And I’m sorry you hurt your knee. Now get the harness and throw it down. This cat is very upset.” And so am I.
“I wasn’t worried at first,” Rebecca said, unmoving from her perch. “Didn’t think you’d make it as far as Dwight’s campsite. I knew Janet wouldn’t linger. No one was supposed to see him that night. Except for me.”
Allie was reaching for the cat but now her arm stilled. She tilted her head, glancing up. “What do you mean?”
“You still don’t get it, do you?” Rebecca’s laugh was unusually shrill. “I was supposed to meet him there, to be a witness to Trina’s accidental drowning. We would have been free and clear, able to enjoy the good life without her.”
The cat had made it to Allie’s side and was now gripping her wrist but she barely noticed his claws. Rebecca and Dwight were lovers? She’d seen them both at the pool the night before the race, but hadn’t thought anything of it. More chilling was the admission that the woman knew about Dwight’s plans. And hadn’t intended to stop him.
“This proves he loves me,” Rebecca went on. “To go through with it, even when I wasn’t around to help. I wasn’t sure if he would. But that bitch was such a whiner.”
Allie’s breath was laboring now. She didn’t know if it was the stuffiness, or the grain pressing against her sweaty chest, or these horrible revelations. Rebecca hadn’t only intended to be a witness; she’d planned to help. She’d been capable of staring into Trina’s pleading eyes and holding her head beneath that dark water.
“And now I can take care of this final thing for him,” Rebecca went on. “You’re the only witness to what really happened.”
“But I already gave the police my statement,” Allie said. “I can change it though,” she added quickly. “Yes, as soon as I get out of here, I’ll give a different one. No problem.”
She pulled the cat into her chest, and with her other arm slowly reached into the grain, fumbling for her pocket. This woman was as murderous as Dwight, and someone needed to get over here. Luckily, Allie had Sharon on speed dial.
“Looking for this?” Rebecca gave a taunting sneer as she waved Allie’s phone in the air. “You gave it to me to take Janet’s stupid pictures.”
Allie pulled her arm back up. The movement resulted in her sinking several more inches, driving home the fact that nothing was holding her up except fluid grain. It was best not to wiggle anymore. She’d stand here very quietly, holding the cat, so neither of them would sink. She’d just keep Rebecca talking. Maybe the woman would relent and let them out.
“Trina was a whiner,” Allie said. Forgive me, Trina. “And you and Dwight make a much better couple.” She forced a smile that felt like a snarl as it curled over her teeth. “How did you meet anyway?”
“At the Olympic sponsor tent,” Rebecca said. “He comforted me when I didn’t qualify. And when Janet went on to win.” Her voice sounded bitter. Clearly she wasn’t interested in talking about Janet. And the subject of Dwight was a potential minefield.
“How did you get the cat in here?” Allie asked, grasping for a more neutral topic. “He’s rather wild so he must have known you were...friendly.”
“I caught him by putting some cornbread in a box. Then I carried the box over and dumped him in. And don’t patronize me. I wish he didn’t have to die but it will make more sense, finding the two of you here.”
Allie’s arms tightened so much that the cat hissed. She forced her grip to loosen. She didn’t want to burst Rebecca’s bubble but she didn’t intend to panic. And if she didn’t move much, she and the cat would be fine. There was a good chance a wrangler would arrive at feeding time. When he backed the truck in to load up the oats, she’d holler a blue moon.
“It’s almost lunch time,” Rebecca said. “I have to go. Janet will be hurt when her new best friend doesn’t show up to say good-bye. But don’t worry. I’ll console her. I would have taken care of you sooner but Carter was always watching. So long, Allie.”
The woman’s face disappeared. Stairs clanged as she descended the exterior stairs, her movement sending vibrations through the bin.
“Don’t worry,” Allie murmured to the cat. “We’ll be okay.”
She glanced up at the patch of blue sky, reassured Rebecca hadn’t closed the hatch. Perhaps the woman wasn’t as cold-hearted as she appeared, or maybe she’d simply forgotten. Either way, there wasn’t much danger of suffocating.
Now that she had stopped moving, the chaff was settling. She coughed, clearing her throat of the dust, breathing a little easier. She scratched the cat’s ragged ear, comforted by his presence. He was purring now, as if prepared for a wait. They wouldn’t be comfortable, but they’d be okay.
Unless Rebecca came back...
Allie glanced up, uneasy again. Why had the woman left the hatch open? Rebecca must know Allie wasn’t going to panic, not if there was sufficient air. So the woman’s clumsy murder attempt would fail. Unless she returned and closed the hatch, or came back with an axe, or dropped in a rattlesnake.
Allie gave her head a shake, determined not to let her imagination run wild. That would only make things worse. Besides, the clanging had stopped so Rebecca must be on the ground now, making her way back to Janet and their limo ride to the airport.
Outside there was a faint drift of music, possibly from the roping arena. No, Carter wouldn’t bother with music. More likely it was from the dining hall. Guests were probably straggling in for lunch. A glass of cold water would taste good now, but she was accustomed to going much longer without drinking. She’d certainly hidden in more dangerous places, from far more dangerous people. And she knew time would pass faster if she blanked her mind and chilled.
Something clinked below, sending another vibration through the walls. The noise was replaced by a louder sound. For a moment, it didn’t register as anything alarming, more like the droning of bees. Something felt different though, as if the ground was shifting. Then the horrifying knowledge slammed her like a gut shot.
Rebecca had turned on the grain auger.
CHAPTER FORTY
Allie yelped and jerked forward, yanking her legs up, trying to move them far away from the whirring sound. Her panicky movement alarmed the cat who twisted from her arm, staring up with indignant eyes, oat grains sticking to his whiskers. There was no time to soothe him.
She scanned the walls, searching for a handhold, anything she could grab to keep from being sucked under. But the galvanized steel was hard and smooth, designed for the efficient movement of grain. Already a whirling vortex marked the spot where grain spiraled downward, a whirlpool that would suck her and the cat down with it.
She had to get further away, closer to the wall. And quickly. She lunged forward, spreading herself on top of the grain, flopping inch by inch, pausing only to scoop up the cat. He didn’t hiss, just dug in his claws, clinging to her arm like it was a tree limb. His claws hurt, but it left both her arms free to flail through the grain. And finally her face was pressed against the hard wall.
She peered over her shoulder, checking the spinning movement. It wasn’t following but funneling from the other side, eating ravenously at the mound of grain. A steep slope had already formed around its center.
Her relief was so great it almost choked her. It was only by chance she’d moved in this direction. If she’d gone to the other side, it would be sucking her down now—and she’d have been unable to move, unable to pull away, and soon unable to breathe.
Was the auger on the far side?
She tried to picture the bottom of the grain bin, but she’d only been there once, on her second day when Sharon had given her a full tour. There was a shed-like entrance at the base. Sharon had pulled open the door and gestured at a shiny electric motor saying the equipment had the capacity to move grain much faster than the old motor, and that the wranglers were greatly pleased.
Allie couldn’t remember if the auger had an automatic shutoff. Maybe if it was blocked by something big it would turn off. Her body should be big enough. Of course, that wouldn’t help much. A mountain of grain over one’s head generally resulted in quick suffocation. But no doubt it felt painfully slow to the person experiencing it.
“Help!” she hollered, raising her head and yelling through her spit-dry throat, yelling over and over again, knowing her voice wouldn’t carry far enough but frantically yelling anyway. The wranglers sometimes schooled their young horses near this secluded section. Of course, that was in the evening, when they were finished helping the guests. Could she stay above the grain that long? Maybe—if she were lucky and remained calm.
She fought the urge to curl up in a ball and make herself small. But it was better to be big, to help the shifting grain support her. So she stretched out her arms and legs and lay on her stomach, taking slow sips of stale air, determined to control her panic. Even the cat had stilled, sitting on her back like a statue, as if similarly fearful of that moving whirlpool.
On the positive side, it was sucking from the other direction. The grain was already much lower there. It felt as if they were lying on a cliff, looking down at the shifting ground, but that beneath them it was solid and capable of holding them up.
But then the whirling tornado shifted. Or was that her imagination?
No, the vortex was moving, slowly at first then faster, sucking up the grain in its path like a rapacious monster. Her heartbeat thrashed in her ears. The cat’s claws dug into her back, then her scalp. And just like that, their foundation crumbled.
Seconds later she was flailing and falling, sliding toward the center as if carried by a powerful avalanche.
*
Carter ignored the eight eager faces staring at him from within the fenced arena. He knew he should learn everyone’s name, but they all looked much the same. It was remarkable how Allie remembered every guest, not just their names but hometowns and favorite songs, along with their pet guinea pig’s favorite food. She had an amazing memory, no doubt because she really cared.
When he’d first met her, he assumed everything about her was fake. Her clothes, her interest, even her smile—because beautiful people didn’t have to be that nice. Like a rhinestone cowboy they only had to glitter in order to dazzle. So even though she was tempting, he’d resolved to avoid her. He certainly hadn’t planned to lead her league of admirers, hadn’t expected to discover that she was the most courageous, kindest, gutsiest person he’d ever met. And that he was the one who was totally unworthy.
A teenager in form-fitting jeans hurried toward him, rather surprising because generally his reserve kept guests at arm’s length, at least for the first half hour. Besides, there were ten more minutes before the lesson was scheduled to start. He’d left the calf pen early, fleeing from Allie—from the sight of her tortured face and hands, and the heartbreaking way she’d limped into the calf pen. Conversely, now that she wasn’t in sight, all he could do was think about her.
“The lesson won’t start for another ten minutes,” he said to the approaching guest, his thoughts still wrapped around Allie. Thankfully she wouldn’t have to stand any longer. He’d asked Pete to bring a chair so she could take the weight off her feet. It might hurt her hands to hold the milk bottle though. And image-conscious Janet would no doubt insist on feeding the wildest calf of the bunch.
At least Pete would be there. He’d take good care of Allie, had grinned when he promised to hold her and the calf. Carter hadn’t liked the man’s wolfish smile one bit.
“Are you Carter Bass?” the teen asked.
Carter’s eyes narrowed. Actually, teenager was a stretch. Despite the girl’s clothes and excessive makeup, it was clear she was barely in her teens. Too young to be in this class. Sharon had agreed to split the adults and children into different sessions. Somehow this girl had talked her way into his class. No doubt she was spoiled as hell. He recognized the brand of her hat, an elite one from Australia. Along with her intricately tooled boots, her clothes probably cost more than a half-decent horse.
Actually she reminded him a bit of Allie and how she might have looked at that age. If he’d been Allie’s neighbor, would he have been able to help? Would he have even noticed her home life? Probably not...
He realized he was scowling but the youngster was surprisingly bold. She planted herself in front of him as if anticipating polite conversation. And since he was a permanent ranch employee now, he had to make some effort.
“Yeah,” he said, steering his thoughts back to the class. “I’m Carter Bass. What’s your name?”
“Sage.”
Sage. It suited her. Maybe he’d try to remember it. He had to admire her gumption. Still, she was way too young to take his class. Her long shiny nails showed she didn’t often get her hands dirty, much less throw a rope. Besides, most kids didn’t listen well and he didn’t like to repeat himself. She was already distracted, glancing around and searching for someone.
“This class is for adults only,” he said. “Are you here to watch your parents?”
“No.” Sage peered past him. “I want to learn to rope. You know, like Allie.”
Carter nodded. Naturally the girl knew Allie, knew what she had done. Every guest met her, usually within their first hour of arrival. Unlike him, they were smart enough to realize she was totally genuine.
He intended to keep the conversation short and simply direct Sage to the youth class, but already he could feel his chest warming at the mention of Allie’s name.
“So you know Allie?” he said, glancing in the direction of the calf pen. He’d only been gone for thirty minutes and already he felt conflicted, starved for the sight of her yet overcome by a feeling of worthlessness whenever he saw her limping. No one should have to torture herself like that, especially not the woman he loved.
“Yes.” Sage’s voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper. “I’m supposed to be on a trail ride with my brother but I’d rather learn to rope and save people. You know, do cool stuff like her.”
“She is cool,” Carter said.
“Well, where is she?” Sage asked. “I don’t want to waste my time in your class if she’s somewhere else.”
“Of course you don’t.” And he actually chuckled, realizing he’d been far too quick to assume Sage was here because of him. He’d have to tell Allie of the girl’s comments. That would make her happy... If only he could look at her battered face long enough to carry on a conversation.
