Big-city cop rides the Wild West...

Tracking down another criminal is not how DEA special agent Joe Ferguson expected to spend his enforced vacation while recovering from an injury. But someone is harming the wild horses of Montana, and attorney Dani Jardine is desperate to stop the culprit. Joe admires Dani’s passion for the beautiful, free-spirited mustangs, so he steps up to help her.

While working together, Joe and Dani become closer, and their attraction grows stronger—until danger from his past threatens people they both love. Joe believes the sooner he returns to Providence, Rhode Island, the better. Because some things are meant to stay free...

“You coming to my lecture tonight?”

Joe leaned closer, drawing in the scent of her, the nearness of her, the warmth of her.

“You inviting me?” Dani said, concentrating on the plate she was drying.

She was smart and beautiful and sexy—and for some reason very peeved at him.

“I think you might find it very informative and educational.”

“Really,” she commented with complete indifference, adding the dried plate to the stack on the counter and taking the washed and rinsed plate he handed her. “You must think very highly of yourself, Detective.”

“I do,” he said, thinking that the sweet smell of her hair was like the elixir of life. “And if it scores me some points, I think very highly of you, too, Counselor.”

“Really,” she repeated in that same monotone. She added another dried dessert plate to the stack.

“I do.”

“Enough to stick around for a while?”

“Maybe.”

She glanced up at him, eyebrows raised. “Really?”

Dear Reader,

Montana Unbranded explores today’s wild mustangs, and takes us back to the Bow and Arrow Ranch in Park County, Montana, and to the cast of characters who brought this historic ranch to life in Montana Dreaming, Buffalo Summer and Montana Standoff.

No other animal embodies the untamed spirit of the West as much as the iconic mustang. In our hearts they will always gallop free, manes and tails streaming behind them. Unfortunately, their reality is far different. Today, wild horses roam an ever-shrinking habitat that also plays host to ranchers and farmers whose survival is driven by the bottom line. Unbranded horses are protected by the Wild and Free-Roaming Horses and Burros Act of 1971, which states they are to be “protected from capture, branding, harassment, or death; and to accomplish this they are to be considered in the area where presently found, as an integral part of the natural system of the public lands.” However, they are also subject to management by the secretary of the interior, and can be removed from their range by the Bureau of Land Management “to preserve and maintain a thriving natural ecological balance and multiple-use relationship in that area.” The conflicts are obvious.

While writing this story, news flashed across major media outlets that the BLM was planning to slaughter forty-five thousand wild horses being held in BLM holding facilities. Public outcry prevented this from happening, but the problem remains. Enter the Mustang Heritage Foundation. Their mission is to get these horses out of holding pens and into adoptive homes. To learn more, go to www.mustangheritagefoundation.org.

It was Virginia Woolf who wrote, “Blame it or praise it, there is no denying the wild horse in us.” I know it’s in me, and I bet it’s in you, too. Enjoy the ride!

Nadia Nichols

Montana Unbranded

Nadia Nichols

www.millsandboon.co.uk

NADIA NICHOLS went to the dogs at the age of twenty-nine and currently operates a kennel of twenty-eight Alaskan huskies. She has raced her sled dogs in northern New England and Canada, works at the family-owned Harraseeket Inn in Freeport, Maine, and is also a registered Master Maine Guide.

She began her writing career at the age of five, when she made her first sale, a short story called “The Bear” to her mother for twenty-five cents. This story was such a blockbuster that her mother bought every other story she wrote and kept her in ice-cream money throughout much of her childhood.

Now all her royalties go toward buying dog food. She lives on a remote solar-powered northern Maine homestead with her sled dogs, a Belgian draft horse named Dan, several cats, two goats and a flock of chickens. She can be reached at nadianichols@aol.com.

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For Dan, my horse and my friend, who has the unbranded heart of a mustang.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

EPILOGUE

Extract

Copyright

PROLOGUE

EVER SINCE THE SHOOTING, his nights had been fractured with brief moments of consciousness, coming up out of the darkness to remember things he’d rather forget. The awful struggle to breathe. Marconi’s face bending over him. Marconi’s voice, taunting him. The taste of copper in his mouth and the smell of rotting garbage. The cold pelt of rain washing his blood into the city gutter. Rico finding him, the sound of sirens. Darkness and pain... How long that lasted, he didn’t know, but it felt like forever before the tormented struggle between life and death finally became a deep, healing sleep.

The ringing of the telephone brought him awake with an upward lunge, a movement that exploded in pain as his hand stabbed beneath his pillow for a weapon that wasn’t there. The room was dim. Shades drawn. The illuminated hands on the bedside clock read nine a.m. He’d been sleeping for twelve straight hours. Not possible, not in a hospital. He reached for the phone, his voice hoarse from sleep. “Ferguson.”

“Hey, it’s Rico, hope I didn’t wake you. I figured you’d have been up for hours, flirting with the nurses. Thought you’d want to know, the date’s been set for the court hearing. June 23. Thought you’d also want to know, Cap said you should get out of town until the hearing. Thinks it’d be safer. So do I. We all do.”

He moved his head on the pillow, back and forth, as if Rico were in the room. “I’m not running from those bastards.”

“I wouldn’t, either—I’d fly. A Boeing 747’d get you a whole lot farther a whole lot faster.”

“They won’t try anything now.”

“No? You dusted three of Marconi’s henchmen in that shoot-out, and it’s your testimony that’s going to put him away for life. You’re messing with the Providence family here, Joe. This is serious stuff.”

“Tell me about it. I’m the one lying here looking like a piece of Swiss cheese.” The door swung inward. A nurse entered briskly, opened the shades and gave him a brief, professional smile as she lifted the plate cover on his breakfast tray. He hadn’t heard breakfast being delivered. Slept right through it. Jesus, Marconi himself could’ve crept in here and smothered him with a pillow, except for the two badges stationed outside his door.

The nurse frowned at the untouched food before replacing the plate cover.

“What about that pretty red-haired sister of yours?” Rico pressed. “Stay with her.”

The nurse was taking his vital signs, jotting them on the clipboard that hung at the foot of the bed. He waited until she left before responding. “Molly’s busy planning her wedding. She doesn’t need her big brother hanging out.”

“Molly won’t have a big brother and your son won’t have a father if you don’t wise up.”

“Find Marconi.”

“We will. Meantime, go visit your sister.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Time’s up. Dead men don’t make good witnesses. And, Joe? I mean it. Don’t tell anyone where you’re going, not even your mother. Cap’s hand-delivering a new ID for you this morning. He’s making the flight reservations and providing transportation to the airport.”

Rico hung up. The nurse had returned with a syringe in her hand and was preparing to draw blood, something nurses did 24/7 and seemed to enjoy. She put a rubber tourniquet on his arm, swabbed briskly with an alcohol-drenched cotton ball, pinched him with the needle. Blood flowed into the tube, as if he hadn’t lost enough already.

“Rumor has it I’m being discharged today,” he said.

She tucked the syringe and vial of blood into a little tray. “Not if you don’t eat your breakfast,” she said with all the warmth of the military police, though she softened her words with a smile before departing the room. He lifted the plate cover to study the contents. Lowered it. Looked around the drab room he’d come to hate over the past two weeks. Rain streaked the window, blurring his view. It hadn’t stopped raining since the night he was shot. He was sick of the rain. Sick of lying in a hospital bed and counting the holes in the ceiling tiles. Sick of this city.

Maybe Rico was right. A few weeks in Montana with his baby sister might not be such a bad idea. She was always asking him to visit, and he’d always wanted to see just how much wild was left in the West.

CHAPTER ONE

“STOP YOUR FIDGETING, Molly. I promise I’m almost done.”

Dani Jardine deftly inserted three more pins into the cream-colored fabric gathered at her friend’s waistline, then rose to her feet and executed a slow walk-around, studying the drape of the gown. Molly Ferguson was standing with her arms obediently outstretched at shoulder height and had been for the past five minutes, but her patience was wearing thin. She met Dani’s eyes in the mirror, tossed her shoulder-length mane of red hair, blew out an impatient breath and dropped her arms to her sides.

“Well? Can you fix it?”

“There might be just enough fabric for me to make the alterations.”

“Will it look all right?”

“You’re going to be the most beautiful bride ever.”

“You don’t think I look fat?”

“Molly, you couldn’t possibly look fat.”

“I’ve gained five pounds in the past two weeks.”

“So stop eating all that corned beef and cabbage.”

Molly gnawed on a fingernail, turning sideways and eyeing herself in the full-length mirror on her friend’s bedroom door. “I wish it were that easy, but it’s more than just food.”

Dani met her friend’s eyes in the mirror. Molly’s were dark with unspoken pathos and shining with tears. For a few moments Dani wondered what could possibly be wrong, and then it clicked, and a big smile brightened her face. “You’re pregnant! I don’t believe it.” Dani hugged her friend impulsively. “You’re having a baby! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I only found out this morning. All winter we’ve been crazy busy with the fund-raiser for Madison Mountain and I was so afraid we wouldn’t make Condor International’s deadline to raise the money. I was sick to my stomach all the time and I thought it was from the stress of it all. Then we made the deadline, we raised the money, we did it. The mountain was saved from that huge mining operation. I should have felt better but I just kept feeling squeamish. Then this morning, because Steven insisted, I went to see my doctor and...” Molly drew a sharp breath and the three recently inserted pins popped out of the fabric. The tears spilled over and Molly wiped them from her cheeks. “It turns out, I’m very pregnant.”

“That’s wonderful news, Molly! You always wanted kids, and in a few weeks you’re getting married to the man of your dreams. But you’re acting like the doctor just gave you a death sentence. What’s wrong?”

“Steven doesn’t know yet, and when my mother finds out she’ll disown me. She’s very Catholic.”

“Steven’ll be tickled pink and so will your mother. How far along are you?”

“Dr. Phillips thinks almost two months. Eight weeks! And I didn’t even notice missing my monthlies, that’s how stressed out I’ve been.”

“A December baby is perfect.”

“Why?”

“Because a baby has to be the most perfect Christmas gift of all,” Dani said, giving Molly another hug. “I’m so happy for you both.”

“But the timing couldn’t be worse—we don’t have any money, the practice is struggling, we’re living on a shoestring and...”

“You have each other and now you have a baby to celebrate. You’re the two luckiest people in the whole world.”

Molly wiped fresh tears from her cheeks and tried for a smile. “I know you’re right, Dani, but the baby part scares me. I’m not ready to be a mother and I don’t know how I’ll tell Steven. We agreed to wait a few years before starting a family.”

“Unless I missed something in high school biology, Steven had something to do with all this.”

Molly heaved another big sigh and more pins scattered to the floor. “Oh, Dani, I wish we still lived in the same town. I love Steven’s place and it’s close to our office, but I miss our talks over lunch. And right now I really, really miss those big, steady paychecks I got working for Skelton, Taintor and Abbot.”

“You’d hate yourself if you were still working for those heartless corporate sharks. The law firm of Young Bear and Ferguson is going to be a great success, and who knows where I’ll be in a year’s time. I might just have to move south to be nearby when you need a babysitter or a third partner.”

Hope illuminated Molly’s face. “I’d love it if you moved to Bozeman, but what about your house? What about Jack?”

Dani picked the pins up off the floor, avoiding Molly’s eyes. “Jack and I split up,” she said with what she hoped was an offhand shrug. “It was bound to happen, Molly. He was gone ninety percent of the time with his job and surrounded by beautiful stewardesses.”

Molly reached out and clamped on to her, all wild red hair and hazel eyes. “You mean, Jack’s gone? When did this happen? How could he just walk out on you like that? What about the house? The dogs?”

“The house was mine to begin with and he left me his dogs. He walked in one night about two months ago, told me he was in love with another woman, said I could have everything, not that there was anything of his here except for the dogs, and that was that. It was all very civil. Too civil, really. I didn’t cry or beg him to stay. I don’t think we ever really loved each other, not the way you and Steven do.”

“Let me get this straight. He walked out on you two months ago, and you didn’t tell me?”

“I didn’t want to upset you. Your wedding’s coming up and you were working so hard on raising the money to save Madison Mountain and...”

“Oh, Dani.” Molly embraced her fiercely, causing more pins to pop out. “How could he do that to you? You’re the smartest, sweetest, most gorgeous girl on the face of the planet and he’s the biggest idiot of all time. I’m so sorry it didn’t work out. Or maybe I shouldn’t be. You deserve a whole lot better and now you have the chance to find that person.”

Dani shook her head with a rueful laugh. “Not me. I’m done with men. Come on. Get out of that dress, very carefully, and I’ll buy you lunch.”

“I can’t eat for another month, remember?”

“You’re eating for two now, and don’t worry about your gown. I’ll alter it this week, but you might want to think about bumping the wedding date up.”

“I’d rather not,” Molly said with a shake of her head. “The invitations are in the mail. But I’ll think about it.”

Molly’s cell phone rang while she was in the midst of peeling out of the wedding dress, and in her haste the last of the pins scattered onto the floor. Dani rescued the gown and the pins while her friend rummaged in her purse for her cell phone. “Ferguson,” she said. Then, a heartbeat later, she squealed, “Joseph!” and her face lit up so bright that even if she hadn’t cried out his name, Dani would have known it was Molly’s beloved older brother.

“Joseph, saints be praised. Mom told me this morning you were doing much better! When are they letting you out of the hospital?” She paced across the room, then stopped abruptly. “You mean, you’re here? In Helena? At the airport? Here? Right now? Jesus, Mary and... Oh, Joseph, you should have let me know you were coming!” Another pause. “Well, you’re just lucky I’m in town because I don’t even live in Helena anymore.” After a brief pause, she continued. “Yeah, I’m only here because I’m visiting Dani. She took Friday off from work to alter my wedding gown.” Molly caught her eye and made a face. “I live outside Bozeman now, with Steven, about two hours away. But don’t tell Mom! She’ll have a fit. You’ll love Steven’s place—it’s really pretty and you’ll have your own bedroom and private bath and you’ll get to meet Steven and, oh, Joseph, it’s so good to hear your voice! Are you sure you’re really all right?” Another pause. “Well, you did the right thing, coming here. There’s no place like Montana. We’ll take good care of you. You’ll love it, you’ll see. You won’t want to leave. Dani and I will pick you up and then take you to lunch before heading south. Sit tight, we’ll be there in two shakes of a lamb’s tail!”

She hung up and spun around with an incredulous laugh, beaming. “Joseph’s here! His flight just got in. He was released from the hospital this morning and decided to come here for a visit! Can you believe it? Big-city cop from back east finally meets the Wild West!”

Dani held the discarded wedding dress in her arms and watched while Molly shimmied into her skirt and pulled on her blouse, fingers flying down the buttons. She made another face as she zipped the skirt. “I won’t be able to wear this much longer, either.” She slipped her feet into her leather pumps and reached for her handbag. “Come on, Dani, you have to meet my big brother. He’s the coolest, handsomest and nicest guy in the whole world.”

“You told me Steven was the coolest, handsomest and nicest guy in the whole world.”

Molly laughed. “They’re the two coolest, handsomest, nicest guys in the whole world.”

“He must have made a miraculous recovery. Just last week he was in critical condition and you were ready to hop a plane back east and hold his hand while he died.”

“He’s a Ferguson, tough as they come. It’ll take more than a few bullets to keep Joseph down. Come on, he’s waiting!”

Dani shook her head. “You two have a lot of catching up to do, and I should stay here and get to work on this gown.”

Molly took the gown from her and tossed it over the nearest chair. “You’ve got a whole month to figure out how you’re going to alter the dress. I want you to meet my brother. Now that Jack’s out of the picture, I think Joseph would be perfect for you. You’ll get along great. And so you know, he’s unbranded, just like those wild horses you dote on. Doesn’t belong to anyone. Footloose and fancy-free. Let’s take him to our favorite deli for lunch. Like you said, I’m eating for two now.”

* * *

TEN MINUTES LATER Molly was circling her bright red Mercedes sedan past the terminal looking for a place to pull over and park. She huddled over the wheel, scowling with impatience. “I’ve never seen so much traffic at this airport. I can’t double-park—I’ll get a ticket for sure. Dani, jump out here, run inside the terminal and bring him out, would you? He’ll be at the Delta gate and he already knows you look just like Julia Ormond in Legends of the Fall—I’ve told him a dozen times.”

“What does Joseph look like?”

“He’s tall, dark and handsome, a rugged Tom Cruise type, you can’t miss him, and he always wears a dark leather jacket and looks a little dangerous.”

“Does he have red hair like yours?”

“No, I’m the only one in the family who was cursed with that. Quick, get out, I’m holding up traffic. I’ll drive around again and pick you up.”

Dani obeyed reluctantly. She entered the terminal and headed toward the Delta gate, where she spotted Joseph easily, seated in a corner chair just outside the gate, back to the wall, forearms resting on denim-clad knees, hands holding a paperback. Head down, reading. Dark glossy hair. Dark leather jacket. Had to be him.

“Joseph?” He glanced up from the paperback and she felt a jolt clear to her soul. Dark eyes, sharp and wary, measured her in a split second and deemed her safe. “I’m Dani Jardine, Molly’s friend. She sent me in to find you because she had to stay with the car—there’s no place to park.”

He stood and shoved the book into his jacket pocket. “The name’s Joe,” he said, extending his hand. “Molly’s the only one in the family who calls me Joseph.” His handshake was warm and firm.

“Do you have any luggage?”

He shook his head. “Spur of the moment trip.”

They exited the terminal together and stood at the curb. Dani was relieved when the red Mercedes appeared almost instantly. Molly slowed as she drew abreast of them and then stopped abruptly with a chirp of brakes. She jumped out, leaving her door ajar and ignoring the driver behind who laid on his horn. She raced toward her brother. “Joseph! Sweet Mary, Mother of... What have they done to you? Oh, Joseph, you look like death warmed over.” She plastered herself against him and burst into tears.

“I’ll move the car,” Dani offered, and beat a hasty retreat to the driver’s side, slamming the door and pulling ahead of the stopped traffic. She drove around the circuit, and by the time she drew near the terminal again, Molly and her brother were ready and waiting. She double-parked, brother and sister climbed aboard and she drove off.

Molly sat in the back and made Joseph sit in the front. “There’s more leg room,” she explained, and she blew her nose as Dani pulled back into traffic. “I can’t believe they let you out of the hospital, Joseph. Mom said you were much better. She lied!”

Joe hitched himself carefully sideways to look at his sister. “I’m just tired, that’s all. It’s a long flight to the Wild West. Where’s this deli you were talking about?”

“I bought a rotisserie chicken for dinner last night. How about we go to my place and I’ll fix us chicken sandwiches,” Dani said, wondering just how much more activity Joe was up for, considering the injury he was still recovering from and the journey he’d just made.

Molly dabbed at her eyes and blew her nose again. “I think that’s a much better idea, if you’re sure it’s no trouble, Dani.”

But of course it turned out to be big trouble, because Dani hadn’t considered the fact that she’d not done any real grocery shopping since Jack moved out. She had no bread, no lettuce, no mayonnaise and nothing to drink except tea, but Molly was too distraught to notice and her brother was too polite to do anything but thank her for the cup of hot tea she handed him, along with half the cold chicken sliced and arranged as artfully on the plate as she could manage, with a garnish of two dill pickles, one on each side of the plate. “Do you take sugar in your tea?” she asked.

“No, thanks, this is fine,” he said. He sat at her kitchen table and deftly kept her two golden retrievers at bay while he ate. “Thank you, that was great, way better than hospital food,” he said after finishing off all of the chicken, both pickles and his second cup of Earl Grey. “Eat up, Molly.”

“I am eating.” Molly’s eyes were red-rimmed from crying.

“No, you’re not. You haven’t touched a thing,” he chided. “What’re your dog’s names?” This he asked of Dani, who was nibbling on a chicken wing with about as much appetite as Molly.

“Winchester and Remington.” She smiled at his expression. “Jack liked to duck hunt.”

“Jack?”

“My ex. He left me his dogs when he moved out, but I’m not complaining. They’re great company, better than Jack ever was.”

He grinned at her words, and all at once Dani saw what Molly had been talking about. Take away the hospital pallor and the shadows beneath those wary eyes, add about ten pounds and Joseph Ferguson became the handsome brother Molly had bragged about. Not handsome the way Jack had been handsome. Not smooth, well-groomed, airline-captain handsome. More of a tough, streetwise and dangerous handsome. “I’ve heard dogs tend to be better company than most people,” he said.

“They go everywhere with me, except to work. Jack got them as eight-week-old pups, siblings, after we moved in together, but he’s an airline pilot and was gone most of the time. I think that’s the only reason he hung around so long, because he loved the dogs.”

“I find that a little hard to believe,” he said, and Dani felt her cheeks warm.

“Molly tells me you live in Providence,” she said, changing the subject. “That’s a big city compared to here.”

“It’s bigger, all right, but not nearly as good-looking.” He grinned that crooked grin again and Dani was completely disarmed.

“You’ll love it here, Joseph. You won’t want to go back to that smelly old city,” Molly said. “Besides, you can’t, at least not for a while. My wedding’s in less than a month, and from the looks of you, you’ll need at least a month of Montana living to get you back on your feet. Maybe little Fergie can come out early and stay with you. I haven’t seen him since last year and I bet he’s growing like a weed. It would do the two of you good to spend some time together out here.”

“I’ve never taken a month of vacation time all at once, but right about now that sounds pretty good.” He pushed out of his chair. “Thanks for the lunch, Dani.”

“You’re welcome. It’s nice to finally meet you, Joseph.”

“Joe,” he said, wandering into the living room, flanked by both dogs. “Did you take these photos?”

He was studying the gallery of prints she’d hung on her living room wall. “Yes,” she replied.

“They’re really good. You obviously like horses.”

“These shots are of the wild horse band in the Arrow Root Mountains. I’m documenting them for the Wild Horse Foundation, so I camp there a lot. I’m actually going up this weekend for the first time this year. I think the snow’s melted enough to hike to the forest service cabin I stay at.”

“Molly tells me you’ve climbed every mountain west of the Missouri.”

“Not quite, but I like to hike and mountain climb. How about you?”

“We don’t have many mountains in Providence, but I wouldn’t mind climbing a few of yours,” he said, casting that grin in her direction. Dani wondered if he always flirted so blatantly, and she also wondered why she was blushing like a schoolgirl.

“Joseph,” Molly scolded. “You’re in no condition for that sort of thing. The mountains out here are tall.”

“I’m sure we could find a short one,” Dani said.

“Just as long as it’s not Braveheart,” Molly said.

Dani shook her head. “We’ll leave that one for you and Steven, but you’d better climb it soon or Luther Makes Elk might not officiate at your wedding.”

“Luther Makes Elk?” Joe said.

“He’s a Crow holy man,” Dani said. “You’ll meet him at Molly’s wedding, if not before. Luther Makes Elk saved Steven’s life.”

“This Montana story just gets better and better. My baby sister’s been holding out some key information from her big brother.”

Molly jumped up and grabbed her purse. “Come on, Joseph, we better hit the road. I told Steven I’d be home for supper.”

Joe cast his sister a questioning look, and Molly sighed. “I promise to tell you all about Luther Makes Elk on the way to Bozeman. Thanks again for everything, Dani. I’ll call you tonight.”

“You’d better,” Dani said. “In the meantime, don’t worry about your wedding gown. It’s going to be beautiful.”

“It’s not the gown I’m worried about,” Molly confided as they hugged goodbye.

“Everything will be fine,” Dani said.

Joe shook her hand once more upon leaving, and Dani watched them descend the porch steps and walk out to Molly’s red Mercedes.

She waved them out of sight, then closed the door and leaned against it with a sigh. Her hand was still tingling.

So that was Molly’s big brother, Joseph.

Wow.

* * *

JOE WATCHED THE scenic vistas roll past his window as Molly pulled onto the highway heading south toward Bozeman. Mountains loomed in every direction, walling off the horizons. He’d never been west of New York before and, as exhausted as he was, he found himself captivated. He also found himself wondering about Dani Jardine. Attorney, great photographer, down-to-earth and drop-dead gorgeous. What sort of man would walk out on a woman like that?

“You’re being mighty quiet for a Ferguson, Joseph,” Molly prodded after a while.

“Just thinking.”

After ten more minutes of silence his sister cast another sidelong glance and nodded sagely. “You’re thinking about Dani. It’s written all over your face.”

“Not me, baby sister. I swore off women after my divorce.”

“I might have believed that two hours ago, but Dani’s smart, beautiful and has a heart of gold. I don’t see how any red-blooded man could help falling in love with her, especially after she fed him lunch.” Her teasing smile faded and her face grew serious. “Why are you really here, Joseph? You didn’t come just to see me. You would’ve called first, and Mom would’ve told me you were coming when I spoke with her last night. She doesn’t even know you’re here, does she? Does this have anything to do with Marconi?”

He gave her a sharp look. “What do you know about it?”

“Honestly, I wasn’t born yesterday. There’s this thing called the internet. I have access to legal search engines, and I tend to dig a little deeper than your average newspaper reporter. And don’t forget, I grew up with some of your friends. Rico always gives me the straight scoop.”

“Do Mom and Dad know anything about Marconi?”

“If they do, they didn’t get it from me.” She cast him a curious glance. “What did you tell them?”

Joe shook his head. “Same thing the newspapers said, that I stumbled into the middle of a drug deal and stopped a few stray bullets.”

“Have they caught him yet?”

“Not yet, but they’ve got him cornered. It’s just a matter of time.”

“You think you’re safe here?”

“Marconi’s too busy running from the cops to be running after me. Nobody knows I’m here, and I traveled under a false name. The hospital’s keeping me on the patient list for the time being, stringing the press along with updates on my ‘guarded’ condition. I’m safe here.”

“But, Joseph, we’re talking the big time. Isn’t Marconi one of the biggest cheeses on the East Coast, and aren’t you the undercover cop and key witness whose testimony will be sending him to jail for a very long time when they catch him? Aren’t we talking witness protection plan here?”

Joe gazed out the window. He’d forgotten how annoying his baby sister could be. “Stop worrying about nothing and tell me about Luther Makes Elk and how he saved Steven’s life and why you’ve never told anyone in the family about this.”

She drove in stony silence for a few minutes before responding. “Luther’s a holy man and he’s Steven’s adopted grandfather and...” Molly blew out an exasperated breath. “I’ll do better than tell you about him. I’ll take you out there while you’re here and introduce you to him. And if we go this weekend we might even run into Dani. She always takes Luther something when she camps in the Arrow Roots.” Molly cast him a teasing glance. “Just so you know, I think it would be perfect to have Dani as my sister-in-law, and you’d make one cool cowboy.”

CHAPTER TWO

DANI LOVED THE utterly luxurious sensation of waking with a start, thinking she might have overslept and then realizing it was the weekend and she didn’t have to jump out of bed and get ready for work. It wasn’t that she didn’t like her job. Estate planning was okay. Predictable. No courtroom drama, but she liked the law firm she worked for and got along well with her coworkers. Still, she loved her days off better. Loved planning her weekend adventures. Loved having the dogs pad into the bedroom while the sunlight laid banners of warmth across the bed.

She pulled the goose-down duvet up to her chin and peered over the edge of the bed at her dogs and their questioning eyes. “Good morning, boys. No doubt you’re wondering why I’m lying here in bed when I should be up getting your breakfast, and no doubt you’re also wondering what’s on the docket today and what sort of grand adventures we’ll have. We haven’t been camping all winter, but I’m thinking today’s the day. It’s the end of May. The snow should be mostly gone in the mountains. We’ll hike up to the forest service camp and see if we can find Custer’s band.”

She stretched like a cat under the covers and reached a hand to stroke the pair of retrievers, who laid their blocky heads on the edge of her bed and wagged their tails in unison. “You miss Jack, don’t you?”

Their tails wagged faster at the mention of his name. She sighed. “I did, too, for a while, but I’m not sure why. He was hardly ever here. We were almost always alone, weren’t we? Nothing much has changed. It’s mainly been just the three of us since you were puppies. I know he really cared about you, and maybe he’ll come visit you some day. But I can love you and take care of you and take you camping, and that’ll just have to be enough.”

The dogs heaved simultaneous sighs and Dani heaved another of her own.

She’d stayed up past midnight last night, redesigning Molly’s wedding gown to compensate for the first trimester of her friend’s unexpected pregnancy, the inspiration for the new design having struck her after Molly left with her brother. She’d also thought about Molly’s brother a lot last night. Too much, truth be told, but it was the wedding gown that mattered, not Joe Ferguson. This would be no ordinary wedding gown. This was going to be a graceful sweep of elegance suitable for the red-haired Scots/Irish goddess who was marrying Steven Young Bear, the hard-hitting environmental attorney thought by many to be one of the rising stars in Montana’s political arena.

Molly’s gown had to be perfect. She wouldn’t let her best friend down on such an important day, but creating the perfect gown for the mother-to-be would require a big investment of time. This weekend’s excursion into the Arrow Roots to photograph the wild horses might be her last until after the June wedding. Which meant she shouldn’t be lying in bed, squandering one precious moment of this fine spring day.

Dani pushed out of bed, reached for her robe and wrapped it around her as she went downstairs to start the coffee. She’d lived in Helena for five years in this comfortable house, built in the late 1800s, with a big fenced yard for the dogs and only five miles from her office, but since Jack left she’d found herself wishing for a piece of land to call her own, large enough for a horse barn and pastures. It was no longer important to live within a stone’s throw of the airport. So she’d taken the plunge and recently listed the house with a real estate agent, who’d called yesterday to arrange a showing for Saturday. Perfect timing, since Dani and the dogs would be off hiking. Maybe now she should seriously start looking for that special place. A change would do her good.

She organized her camera gear while the coffee brewed. Stuffed her backpack with supplies while she sipped the first strong cup. Took a long, hot shower and dressed in comfortable, layered clothing. It got cold in the mountains when the sun went down. She plaited her long dark hair and laced up her well-worn leather hiking boots. The dogs watched all this preparation with increasing excitement. They knew she was taking them camping. They smelled the smoke of a hundred other campfires in her camping gear. They loved hiking with her, and she in turn felt safer in their company. Remmie and Win were well behaved, never roamed far from her side and their keen sense of smell and hearing had proved invaluable in finding the small band of wild horses that roamed the Arrow Roots.

She always stopped to see Luther Makes Elk when she crossed into the Crow reservation and today would be no different. She packed a jar of homemade raspberry jam for him and would pick up some Chinese food at the little restaurant in Bozeman. Luther loved his MSG.

By sunset she and the dogs will have reached the old line camp on the flanks of Gunflint Mountain. The thought made Dani happy. She was anxious to see if any of the mares had foaled yet, and if the wildflowers were in bloom on the mountainsides. She wanted to once again hear the coyotes howl and admire a night sky so full of stars it made her heart ache with the beauty and mystery of it.

Before eight a.m. she was loading her Subaru with camping gear. The two dogs jumped into the backseat when she opened the side door, then she climbed behind the wheel and turned the key in the ignition.

“Okay, gang, let’s hunt us up a herd of wild horses.”

* * *

JOE WAS UP well before dawn. He was restless, and the time difference made it feel as if he should have been up far earlier. He dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt, the same clothes he’d worn the day before because he had no other clothes to wear. Just lucky that Rico had brought these clothes to the hospital yesterday morning. He wandered into the kitchen of the small house in Gallatin Gateway that Molly shared with her fiancé, Steven Young Bear. Joe had always been protective of his baby sister and had been skeptical that any man would be good enough for her, but the moment he met Steven, he knew instinctively that this man would take good care of her. Molly had told him that Steven was a Crow Indian and an attorney of great merit and integrity, and that she loved him very much. She spoke of him with such unrealistic praise that Joe hadn’t been prepared to like the man, but from the first handshake he was sold. Young Bear was quiet and self-possessed, and Joe had no doubt that he could handle any situation life threw at him. Last night the three of them had shared a simple meal of stir-fried chicken in the cozy kitchen of the small post-and-beam home, after which Joe had retreated to the guest room, exhausted.

Yet in spite of his fatigue, he hadn’t slept well. He couldn’t blame it on being in a strange place. Nothing was stranger than a hospital. Maybe it was the absence of constant interruptions. No nurses, no doctors, no badges checking on him hourly. Maybe it was the silence. The sound of the wind pushing around the sides of the house was all he heard here no matter how hard he listened. No sirens, car horns or traffic noises. Maybe thirty-six years of city living had been what kept him awake his first night in the heart of the Wild West.

He wandered into the kitchen and saw that Molly had left the coffeepot ready to go. He pushed the start button. The coffee grinder whirred and the smell of fresh ground beans infused him with comfort. Water began to hiss and thump and drip through the filter and into the pot. He leaned his elbows on the kitchen counter and gazed out the window at a landscape that was both foreign and compelling. No snow remained on the ground and the grass was just greening up. The leaves of the aspen in the grove near the house were a pale, newly minted green, quivering in the early breeze. Majestic mountains in shades of blue and gray loomed on the horizon. He could easily get used to the big spaces, the tall mountains and the silence. For the first time he understood why Molly had never wanted to come back home. This was home for her, and she told him she’d felt it the moment she first stepped off the plane. I just knew it in my heart, Joseph. I knew Montana was where I was meant to be.

Montana was a far cry from the Boston Fergusons, and Molly loved her big Scots/Irish family, but she loved it here even more and appeared to be sublimely happy with her life. Joe wondered if he would ever find anything like what his sister had found. Last night he’d watched the pair at supper, watched the way Molly looked at Young Bear, the shine in her eyes, the way she so openly adored him. The feeling was obviously mutual. Mutual enough that when Molly opened the bottle of red wine and neglected to pour herself a glass, Young Bear had looked at her for a long, thoughtful moment before nodding and saying, “I thought that’s what the doctor was going to tell you. I hope it’s a girl, and I hope she has beautiful red hair, just like her mother.”

Turns out his baby sister was going to be a mother, and watching the two embrace, Joe realized how empty his own life was. Oh, he wasn’t sorry about the divorce. Nothing had made him more miserable than five years of being married to Alison Aniston, but their loveless marriage had ended a year ago and for the last few months his contact with women had been purely physical. Which had suited him just fine until meeting Dani Jardine yesterday. At first he thought maybe his lung had collapsed again, but the fact of the matter was, she’d taken his breath away. He hadn’t realized a woman could be so naturally beautiful and vibrantly alive. Being Molly’s best friend made her especially off-limits. Better for him if he kept far, far away from her.

He padded into the living room, dropped onto the sofa and cradled the hot mug of coffee. The picture window looked east, toward a big mountain range. Some of the taller peaks still cradled snow near their summits. The sun was rising behind the mountains, turning the snow crowning the peaks a pale shade of yellow. He took a swallow of coffee and watched the show. He thought about Molly’s suggestion, of bringing Ferg out here. His son would love it, but would Alison allow it? She was fighting for sole custody, and she was a nasty fighter.

“Morning.”

Molly’s voice startled him. She’d come into the living room quiet as a wraith, red hair loose upon her shoulders and freckles plain in her pale face. She looked very much like a little girl, not a young woman soon to be married.

“Coffee’s all made,” he said.

She shook her head and made a face. “My stomach can’t handle it lately. Sleep well?”

“Like a rock.”

“Don’t lie to me, Joseph. You didn’t sleep at all and neither did I. All I could think about was Marconi and how he almost killed you. Once he’s behind bars and after you’ve testified, you’ll be safe, but I have a plan to keep you safe in the meantime.”

“I can hardly wait to hear it.”

“Don’t tease me. I’ve already told Steven about it and he thinks it’s a good idea. As a matter of fact, he called his sister, Pony, last night and she agreed that you should stay out at the Bow and Arrow. Nobody’d get within five miles of that place without being observed by everyone in Katy Junction. The ranch is extremely isolated and you have to drive through the middle of Katy Junction to get to it. There’s only one road in or out.”

“The Bow and Arrow.” Joe wondered why it sounded so familiar, then he remembered the wedding invitation he’d gotten in the mail. “Isn’t that where you and Steven are getting married?”

Molly dropped onto the sofa next to him, propped her feet on the coffee table and wrapped her robe about her. “It’s such a magical place. You’ll love it. Conveniently, we have to visit there today.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because today’s Saturday, and they always have barbecue on Saturday. Besides, I really want you to meet Pony and Caleb and all the kids.”

“I don’t need to hide out there. I can take care of myself.”

“Oh, yes, that’s quite obvious,” she said, giving him a skeptical up and down. “Don’t worry, you’ll earn your keep. Pony said they could always use another teacher.”

“You told me it was a ranch.”

“A huge ranch, with horses and buffalo. Steven’s sister started a school there, too, for Crow kids who weren’t making it in the reservation’s school system.”

“Troubled kids?”

“No. But special kids, for sure, especially Roon.”

“I remember you mentioning him. The boy who talks to wild horses.”

“And buffalo,” Molly added. “Roon sometimes helps Jessie Weaver on her rounds, now that she’s graduated vet school. Jessie used to own the Bow and Arrow until she sold it to Caleb, Pony’s husband. Then Caleb deeded half the ranch back to Jessie as a wedding gift when she married Guthrie Sloane, so now they co-own it. Guthrie helps Caleb and Pony run the ranch, and Jessie doctors most of the horses in Gallatin and Park counties. You should see her truck—it’s so cool. Anyhow, Roon’s so good with the animals Jessie says whenever he comes along with her on farm calls having him there cuts the need for tranquilizers by half.”

Joe took another swallow of coffee, dizzy from trying to keep up with Molly. “What’s all this got to do with me teaching?”

“Roon was one of the toughest cases at the Bow and Arrow. He had a big chip on his shoulder to start with and then he lost his little brother in a car accident. Pony had her hands full with him, but being out there at the ranch turned him around. So they started a school for kids like Roon. I think Pony and Caleb have about five or six kids living there now. They’ve built an actual schoolhouse next to the ranch, with an upstairs bunk room big enough to house all the boys. The kids help with ranch chores and spend part of their days in class, but only a small portion. Most of their learning takes place out of doors.”

“Sounds like my kind of school, but I’m no teacher.”

“Of course you are, Joseph. We all are. They have guest teachers out there all the time. Some like it so much they come back more than once. All you have to do is talk about what you do. Tell them what it’s like to be a big-city cop. Tell them what your work is like, what kind of education and experience you needed to land the job, tell them what you like and don’t like about it.”

“Kind of like show-and-tell?”

“Exactly.”

“I’ll show ’em all my bullet holes and tell them to avoid a career in law enforcement.”

“Joseph, that’s not the least bit funny.” She gave his arm an affectionate squeeze. “Anyway, when you’re done telling them all about your chosen career, you answer their questions and afterward you help with ranch chores. And then—” she paused for effect “—then you get to eat the most incredible meals west of our mother’s kitchen. They have a cook named Ramalda and she’s a real treasure.”

“Good food?” Joe perked up at this.

“Great food, and lots of it.”

“Sounds like you visit there frequently.”

“As often as I can, and I’ve taught there, too, several times. I told them all about law school and different choices of careers within law and Steven’s fight to save Madison Mountain from the mining industry. In exchange, the boys taught me how to throw a rope over a fence post... Well, they tried. I’m a terrible cowgirl. I rode horseback once up into their mountains to see the buffalo herd and it took me weeks to recover. But I love it out there. It’s a perfect place to raise kids.”

“And this place isn’t?” Joe looked around the comfortable room and lifted his coffee mug to the view outside the picture window. “What more could you ask for?”

Molly just smiled. “Wait till you see the Bow and Arrow.”

* * *

IT NEVER FAILED to amaze Dani how much food Luther Makes Elk could eat. She’d brought him enough to feed a family of six, and by the time she left, most of the Chinese take-out containers were half empty. He never said much when she arrived, didn’t speak while she unloaded the bags of food and the small gifts she always brought. And she left him how she found him—sitting on his wooden bench in front of his shack, hat pulled low and blanket over his shoulders, gazing back through time and into the future. He shook her hand when she got ready to leave, the way he always did. Slowly, with a solemn expression. “Sometimes the best thing you can do is nothing,” he said. Those were his only words the entire visit.

The lack of talk didn’t bother her, though. She was a quiet person herself and always felt strangely revitalized by her silent visits with the holy man. Today was no exception.

Now she headed south for the Arrow Root Mountains, the sun slanting off her right shoulder, settling toward the Absaroka Range, the Crow reservation off to her left. Her dogs had abandoned all their manners and were jockeying for position in the passenger seat, craning their eyes out the windows with mounting excitement.

A convoluted series of dirt roads took her into the high country. This was a seldom traveled place, but she noticed fresh tire tracks today. She wasn’t the only one with spring fever. Eventually, rotting snowdrifts closed off the road and she could drive no farther. She parked where someone else had parked very recently. Footprints in the mud indicated one person had continued up the unplowed road and returned, probably within the past day. A ranger from the forest service had no doubt walked up to check on the cabin, knowing she’d rented it for the weekend. The dogs bounded out of the Subaru, sprinting in tight circles of excitement as she shrugged into her pack and balanced the tripod over her shoulder. It was three p.m. and they had another hour or so of hiking ahead of them before reaching the forest service cabin. With any luck she’d have her camera gear set up by sunset and would get some good shots of the band stallion, his mares and hopefully some new foals.

She loved hiking in these mountains and photographing the mustangs that lived here. To Dani, they embodied the free spirit of the West, the part that would never be tamed. Her photographs had appeared in several major magazines, and she’d recently agreed to supply many more for a book that was being written about the wild mustangs of the West. The Bureau of Land Management, or BLM, had begun aggressive roundups in recent years to thin the population, but many felt their management goals were too low to maintain genetic diversity and long-term survival. The fight was on to preserve the purest strain of Spanish mustangs in North America, and Dani, through her love of horses, hiking and her photographic skills, had become a big part of it.

Her spirits were as high as those of her dogs as they hiked through mountain mahogany and juniper. The scenery was spectacular. Mountains framed every scene. The Bighorn, Beartooth, Wind River and Absarokee. Spring was in the air and the yeasty smell of the land, warmed by the afternoon sun, wafted in an earthy ferment around her. She knew in the higher elevations the wind would be thundering over the land like a herd of wild horses. When she was here she felt as if maybe there wasn’t a city west of Saint Louis. As if, in the four-hour drive from Helena, she’d traveled back through two centuries. Sometimes she wondered if she just kept on hiking into the Arrow Roots, would she vanish into the past? She wondered if perhaps she hadn’t already lived here in another life and maybe that was why, when she was with Luther Makes Elk, she felt no need for words. The silence between them was comfortable.

Sometimes the best thing you can do is nothing. His words came to her again as she took a breather. Luther didn’t say much, so when he spoke, she listened. As did everyone. He was, after all, a legendary holy man. What had he meant? Had Luther been referring to Molly’s brother Joe? Had he been telling her to leave the dark and dangerously handsome man well enough alone? Or had he been describing his own life, his days spent sitting on the old wooden bench in front of his shack, watching the occasional vehicle drive past?

She shifted the tripod to her other shoulder and continued on. Her breath came in short, hard gasps as the trail steepened. Her thigh muscles burned and her shoulders were already sore. She was pathetically out of shape. Cross-country skiing was good exercise and a fine way to enjoy a long Montana winter, but nothing beat climbing uphill while shouldering a heavy pack. She hadn’t slept very well last night, but she had a feeling tonight would be different. Tonight she’d forget all about how Joe Ferguson had turned her insides to mush and instead focus on finding the bright golden stallion, Custer, and his little band of unbranded mares. With any luck he’d be grazing his mares in the high mountain park that surrounded the old camp.

She was going to get some great photos. She could feel it in her bones.

* * *

“THIS IS KATY JUNCTION,” Molly narrated to Joe as Steven parked the Wagoneer in front of a small hole-in-the-wall diner called the Longhorn Café. The café comprised one of four buildings that made up a town that, except for the addition of telephone poles, didn’t look like it had changed much in well over a century. There was even a hitch rail in front of the boardwalk, which still looked well used, if piles of horse manure were any measure. “Guthrie’s sister, Bernie, runs this diner. She’s wonderful—you have to meet her. She brews the best coffee in the West, so you must have a cup. Badger and Charlie are probably here, too. They help out at the Bow and Arrow and spend the rest of their lives hanging out at Bernie’s counter and gossiping.”

Joe climbed out of the passenger seat, trying to keep track of all the names his sister tossed his way. His chest ached. His gut ached. His head ached. He didn’t want a cup of coffee and he didn’t want to go to the Bow and Arrow. He was beginning to wish he’d never gotten out of bed that morning. He’d passed on his six a.m. painkillers and that had been a mistake. He felt punk enough that Molly had put off visiting Luther Makes Elk on the way to the Bow and Arrow, and it was a good thing, too. Just climbing the three steps to the diner really took it out of him. When he reached the top step, the wall of the diner began to move in a strange way, and he grabbed on to the hitch rail to catch his balance.

“Joseph?” Molly’s face looked up at him, eyes full of concern. She’d been hovering ever since he’d arrived, as if he might drop dead at any moment. She had her hand on his arm and he felt another hand steady his elbow. Steven. Jesus. How embarrassing.

“I’m fine,” he said. “Jet lag, that’s all.”

“Bernie makes good homemade soup. We’ll stay for lunch,” Steven said.

The cold sweat passed as they helped him through the door into a small room. The tables were empty, but two men, both on the far side of ancient and dressed like the cowboys of old, sat at the counter. The slender, pleasant-looking woman standing behind it took one look at them and came around, wiping her hands on a towel as she approached. Her smile was warm and genuine. She glanced at Joe questioningly, then at Molly. “Why, Molly Ferguson,” she said, her smile broadening, “if this is your tall, dark and handsome older brother, you must introduce me.”

“How’d you guess?” Molly said.

“Except for the lack of red hair, there’s a strong family resemblance.” She extended her hand. “I’m Bernie Portis. Welcome to Katy Junction and the Longhorn Café. Won’t you have a seat?” Her hand gripped his arm firmly as she deftly guided him to the nearest table. He sat. Gave her a grateful look. She smiled and nodded imperceptibly in response. “Soup of the day is extra special because I’m using Bow and Arrow buffalo, not beef. Pony finally persuaded Caleb to take the plunge. They harvested a two-year-old bull, and I’m their first commercial account,” Bernie said proudly. “Buffalo’s wonderful meat—low-fat, low cholesterol and naturally raised on the prettiest wide-open range in the West.”

“Sounds great. We’ll take three bowls and three coffees, Bernie,” Steven said.

“Make mine peppermint tea,” Molly said.

Steven and Molly sat. Bernie looked between the two of them. “Are you feeling all right?” she asked Molly. “Is your stomach upset?”

Molly glanced questioningly at Steven, who gave her a calm nod. “We’re going to have a baby,” she announced, then to her visible mortification she burst into tears.

Bernie never missed a beat. She gave Molly’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Don’t worry, Molly, babies aren’t so awful. I’ve had two myself and I count them as two of the three best things that ever happened to me, my husband being the third. Joseph, how long are you planning to stay?”

“You can call me Joe, and I’ll stay as long as Molly will put up with me.” Given Molly’s highly emotional state, Joe figured this was a tactful response.

Bernie nodded. “Good. It’s tough facing such big events as a wedding and first baby when your family’s all back east. Though I will say, Molly has plenty of family right here.” She gave Molly’s shoulder another affectionate squeeze before retreating to get their beverages. Meanwhile the two old codgers on the bar stools had slid off their perches and were turning in their direction.

“Did we hear correct?” the bowlegged bewhiskered one said as they approached the table. He removed his hat respectfully. “You’re expecting a baby?” Then damn if he didn’t pull a huge red bandanna out of his hip pocket and hand it to Molly, and damn if she didn’t use it to blot her tears.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m crying. Badger, Charlie, meet my big brother, Joseph,” Molly introduced through her tears. “He’s visiting us for a while. He lives in a big city back east and needs some vacation from all the smog. This is his first trip west. We’re taking him out to the Bow and Arrow after lunch.”

Joe shook hands with Badger and Charlie, feeling like he’d just stepped into a John Ford Western. “Good to meet you,” he said. “And the name’s Joe.”

“Katy Junction might seem small to you, being a big city slicker and all,” Badger said to Joe, “but some mighty big things happen around here. Just ask your sister—it ain’t never dull.”

“I’ve heard some of the stories,” Joe said. “I’m looking forward to seeing how wild the West still is.”

Badger rubbed his bewhiskered jaw. “Well, everyone knows the wildest critters live in the big city, and from the looks of you, some of ’em chewed you up good. But a few days out here’ll get you back on your feet. And your sister’s having a baby, that’s real good news,” Badger said. “It’ll give that little one out at the Bow and Arrow something to play with.”

“Little one?” Molly echoed.

“Ain’t you heard? Pony just took in another’n, just knee-high to a grasshopper. I saw it this mornin’ for the first time. Cute as a speckled pup. She don’t like my whiskers, though.”

“Who would?” Charlie said.

Molly wiped her eyes, blew her nose and cast an accusing look at Steven. “Why didn’t you tell me about the new baby?”

Steven shook his head. “Pony is my sister but she doesn’t tell me everything.”

* * *

BY TWO P.M. Steven was driving his Jeep Wagoneer down the last stretch of ranch road leading to the Bow and Arrow. Joe was dozing off his lunch, but he roused in time to take in the sweeping views, the creek and the old log cabin on its bank, the ranch buildings beyond on the knoll and what looked like the Continental Divide rising up behind it. There appeared to be a lot of action down by the barns. Horses in corrals, boys riding horses, boys leaning over the top rail watching another boy on a horse in a separate smaller corral. Clouds of dust. Puddles of mud. Two Australian shepherd–type dogs chasing each other in play and yapping with excitement outside the corrals. Class was quite obviously in session at the Bow and Arrow.

They parked in front of the ranch house and a slender woman in blue jeans and a red flannel shirt with a long jet-black braid over her shoulder emerged almost immediately, balancing a toddler on her hip. “That’s Pony,” Molly said. “Isn’t she beautiful? Oh, my, look at that baby girl.” Molly was out of the Jeep and up the steps before Joe’s feet hit the ground. “Steven!” she said, spinning around with the baby already in her arms and a wide smile on her face. “She’s two years old and her name’s Mary. Isn’t she just the sweetest thing?”

While his sister showed Steven the baby, Pony came down the steps to meet him. Her handshake was firm, her eyes dark and intelligent, and Molly was right. She was beautiful in a soul-deep, earth-mother way. “I’m Pony, and I’m glad you came,” she said. “I’ll tell Ramalda there’ll be three more for supper. She likes to set a big table. And, Joe? You’re welcome to stay here as long as you like.”

CHAPTER THREE

DANI PAUSED AT the old line camp just long enough to shed her pack and sort out her camera gear. The boot tracks she’d been following hadn’t stopped at the cabin, but had continued on toward the high park. Nobody had been at the cabin for several weeks. Now managed by the forest service, the camp was available by reservation year-round for twenty dollars a night, and Dani had reserved it for herself well in advance, though not many hiked up here in mud season. It was a simple setup: two bunks, a plank table with two chairs and a woodstove for heat. With the grizzlies out of hibernation and roaming the mountains, four solid log walls were a comfort. She stashed her pack at the cabin and hiked immediately toward the park. From there she would most certainly be able to spot wild horses. She called the dogs to heel and they fell in beside her. They knew not to chase after things or to leave her side when she spoke to them in that stern tone of voice. They knew work from play, and they knew this was her time to work. They also knew there would be plenty of time for play afterward.

She paused for a moment to take a deep breath of sweet, cool mountain air and drink it all in. It was so beautiful up here, so wild. One day she’d live on the edge of a wilderness just like this and be able to walk out in it every single day. And maybe, just maybe, there’d be a special guy in her life to share this with. Someone who wasn’t gone all the time. Someone who’d worry if she didn’t come home on time, and who would always be glad to see her when she did.

Dani laughed at herself. She’d sworn off guys after Jack left, and now she was spending way too much time thinking about Molly’s big brother. Foolishness. Joe Ferguson was a city boy. He’d never take to this life. Besides, he was probably juggling a handful of women. Someone that good-looking couldn’t be single. Get to work, she chided herself, and hiked onward.

She saw the vultures before she saw the horses, wheeling circles on mountain updrafts in their telltale, teetering flight. Something was dead or close to it. Rounding the crest of the broad sweep of high meadow, she spotted more vultures on the ground not a quarter mile distant. There were twenty or better scattered over the meadow in three undulating clumps, each clump feeding on something large and deceased. Vultures were big birds, and from a distance it was hard to make out what they were feeding on, but Dani’s good mood instantly vanished, replaced by a growing feeling of dread.

Walking slowly, she descended the gentle slope. Ravens in nearby trees croaked an alarm and took to the air as she approached, and on cue all of the vultures flew away. Their takeoff was heavy, loud and slow, and Dani stopped abruptly when she saw what the flight of the vultures revealed. She’d half expected this, but the shock ran through her like an electric jolt as she processed the scene. Three horses lay sprawled in the high park.

Three of the eight wild horses that made up Custer’s band. Dead.

Shaken, Dani stood paralyzed. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. How could this have happened? How could three have been killed all at once? Lightning sometimes struck them in these higher elevations, but not in this number and not this early in the season. Was Custer one of the dead? Wild, beautiful Custer? The dogs looked up at her. They smelled death and sensed her distress. Their tails were still, their expressions solemn. This wasn’t what she’d come to the Arrow Roots to photograph. Nonetheless, this was something that needed to be captured for others to see. Photographs needed to be taken. Whatever had happened to the wild horses of the Arrow Roots, people needed to know their fate. Dani blew out her breath and steeled herself for the task at hand. “Okay, boys, you stay right beside me,” she said to the dogs. “Heel.”

She shouldered her gear and started walking down the hill. The dogs walked close beside her to keep her safe.

* * *

CUSTER WAS AMONG the dead. Of course he would be. This was his little band of mares. This was his home range. He would have fought to protect all that was his. Dani was overwhelmed by the enormity of the tragedy. The three dead horses were widely scattered. From the hoofprints left behind in the soft spring earth it looked as though they had been running in a wild panic, changing directions, not knowing which way to turn when whatever happened, happened. And it had happened very recently. Late yesterday, perhaps? Though the spring sunshine was warm and flies had begun to gather, the carcasses had not yet begun to bloat or smell. Vultures, coyotes and ravens had begun their feast, and Dani saw the fresh imprint of a large bear in the churned-up earth near one of the carcasses. The dogs were uneasy and their hackles raised when they sniffed at the track. She knew from experience they didn’t like the smell of bear. She snapped photos with her digital camera swiftly, but the hair on the back of her neck prickled. Where was the bear? Not far, she was sure, and it wouldn’t like her being anywhere near the dead horses.

She took multiple photos of Custer, that wonderful wild stallion that she’d been photographing for the past few years, then bent and zoomed the lens in on the neck of a bay mare that was not as mutilated as the others. She focused on what could only be a bullet hole. Large caliber. Not fatal, but she had several other bullet holes in her chest area that were. These horses had been shot multiple times. Deliberately slaughtered. Both mares had been pregnant. Dani thought about the tire tracks back where she had parked. Big tires with aggressive tread. Truck tires. And the boot tracks that had walked here and returned to the parking area. Big footprints. A man had come up here with a rifle, spotted the herd grazing in this high meadow and shot them.

Who? And why?

Dani pulled her cell phone out of her jacket pocket and turned it on. No signal. But she dialed Molly’s cell, anyway, just in case, and got nothing.

“Damn it.” This was the downside of true wilderness. No cell phone towers.

Remmie and Win were looking toward the bushes at the edge of the meadow. Their ears were cocked. Dani took a few steps closer and saw the legs of a fourth horse protruding from the brush. This mare was lying well apart from the others near the edge of the tree line and mostly hidden by the brush. A dun-colored mare with a long black mane and tail. Dark stripe down her spine. Dark barred stripes on her legs. A beautiful Spanish mustang with classic markings, and except for the bullet holes in her neck and shoulder, she’d been untouched by the scavengers. She was the perfect subject to prove the horses had all been shot. Dani moved closer, raised the camera and took a burst of shots. The mare’s eyes were open, which wasn’t unusual in death, but at the sound of the camera’s shutter, the mare’s ears flickered ever so slightly, then she blinked and moaned, a deep gut-wrenching sound of agony. Dani lowered the camera, a different kind of shock paralyzing her.

This horse was still alive.

“Easy, girl,” Dani soothed, but at the sound of her voice the mare thrashed her legs, struggled desperately to gain her feet, then lost strength, groaned again and collapsed flat on her side. “Easy, girl, I won’t hurt you.” Dani’s thoughts were as panicked as the horse. The mare was wild and didn’t want her near, but she was badly injured and suffering. Dani cast around frantically, as if help might appear on the horizon, but all she saw were the three other dead horses, a sky full of circling vultures and two loyal dogs. She was on her own.

The dogs suddenly looked beyond her, ears cocked, and she heard the crashing of something in the thicker brush beyond the mare. She backed rapidly away, her heart in her throat. Bear? She saw a flash of pale color. Bears were dark. Was it another wounded horse? Please, God, no.

But it wasn’t a bear or another wounded horse. A cream-colored foal stepped out of the scrub on long wobbly legs that could barely support it. When it spotted her it made a noise, the sound of a frightened young thing that needed its mother. The foal was a newborn. Tiny. Scared. Dani looked again at the mare. The blood from her gunshot wounds had masked the blood from the birthing. This mare had been shot twice and then, lying near death, had somehow birthed this foal, and very recently. The foal’s coat was still damp. It staggered unsteadily toward its mother, who raised her head off the ground and made a noise in her throat that knifed into Dani’s heart. The foal responded and came to her side, but the mare could do no more. Her life was nearly gone, bled out into the grass.

“I’ll find out who did this and they’ll be punished for it,” Dani said in a choked voice to the dying mare. “I promise you.”

Tears ran down her cheeks as Dani watched the mare draw her final shuddering breath. The foal nuzzled its mother, seeking comfort that would never come. Thin, watery milk leaked from the mare’s teats, as if even in death she wanted to nurture her foal. The sun was setting and the night chill would kill the newborn quickly. It needed food and warmth. She couldn’t just leave it here and run for help. Somehow she had to get the newborn foal down to her car and to the Bow and Arrow. They’d know what to do.

Would it let her approach? Was she strong enough to carry it down the mountain?

Dani laid her gear on the ground. She moved toward the dead mare and the foal watched with wide eyes but stood its ground. She reached a hand toward it. Her fingers gently brushed the damp, curly coat and combed through the short wisp of mane. She stroked its neck and could feel the taut skin trembling beneath her fingers. She removed her jacket slowly and used it to rub the wetness from the foal’s coat. She rubbed gently at first, then with increasing vigor. The foal braced its legs, lowered its head and stood its ground. Then Dani dropped the jacket and tried to lift the animal. Heavy. Far too heavy for her to carry. She set it back down gently. “Easy now, easy,” she soothed as she reached for her camera, took a few quick shots of the foal near its mother and slung the camera over her shoulder. She draped her jacket over the foal’s back to keep it warm, tied the arms together under its neck, took hold of the makeshift collar and tugged gently. The foal took a step, then another. Wobbly steps, short steps, but it was walking.

Two steps later Dani had another thought. The foal hadn’t eaten since birth and the mare’s udder had been leaking milk. Would it be possible to retrieve some of the first milk from the dead mare? She had a stainless-steel water bottle in her day pack. Dani hesitated. She could try at least. The critically important first colostrum milk might save the foal’s life. She wasn’t sure how long a newborn foal could go without eating but surely mother’s milk was best. She shrugged out of her pack, retrieved her water bottle, dumped the contents and returned to the mare’s side, where she knelt and positioned the water bottle before trying to strip milk out of the mare’s teat. This is crazy, she told herself. Even crazier with a grizzly bear lurking in the vicinity. But crazy as the idea was, and as clumsy as she was acting on it, milk finally squirted out of the teat and into the bottle she held on its side. Thanking her dairy farm upbringing, Dani stripped the milk as swiftly as she could, first from one teat and then the other, until no more came. It took less than two minutes but felt like hours while ravens called and vultures circled and she scanned the edge of the nearby woods for bears. She stood, capped the bottle, returned it to the day pack and shouldered it. The foal didn’t try to escape when she reached for the dangling arms of her parka tied around its neck.

“You can do this,” she said, wrapping one arm around the foal’s neck to steady it. “You can do this. You have to, because I can’t carry you. And if you stay here, you’ll die.” She looked over her shoulder. “Win, Rem, come on, boys. We’re going down the mountain now.”

* * *

SATURDAY BARBECUE AT the Bow and Arrow was a tradition that Ramalda presided over with the practiced efficiency of a seasoned military commander. Joe was seated on the porch beside Pony. She’d already given him a house tour, showed him where the bathroom was, where his bedroom would be if he chose to stay and poured him a tall glass of water from a pitcher with lemon slices and ice. “Just relax and watch the show,” she told him with a smile. “I hope you are hungry, because if you don’t eat a lot, Ramalda will think you are sick, and if she thinks you are sick, you are doomed.”

Joe was content to sit and watch, and Pony was right—it was a show. Boys running every which way between the barn and corrals and ranch house. Stout, maternal Ramalda, blue bandanna tied over white hair, scolding them to no effect in nonstop heated Spanish while basting the ribs roasting over the coals with her special sauce, baking corn bread in cast-iron skillets in the reflector oven and stirring a huge pot of spiced chili beans. All of this was being cooked on a giant outside grill beneath a covered patio flanked by two picnic tables. Pony was in and out of the house constantly, setting the two picnic tables and helping Ramalda with the preparations. Joe sipped his water and enjoyed the aromas of mesquite smoke and barbecue. He marveled that in just one day he’d gone from lying in a Providence hospital room that smelled of rubbing alcohol and sickness to sitting on a Montana porch admiring a spectacular Rocky Mountain sunset and hearing the distant whinny of a real horse as the cool air sank into the river valley. His sister was smitten with the baby she still held in her arms as she interacted with the rest of the kids. She was clearly in her element here, among a pack of lively Crow children and some very good friends.

Steven Young Bear walked up from the corrals and dropped onto the bench beside Joe. “Do not let those young renegades talk you into any rodeo activities,” he advised, brushing some dirt off his jeans. “You will pay for it.”

“Don’t worry,” Joe said. “I’ve never ridden a horse and I’m not about to start now.”

“That is what I said when I first came here.”

Joe eased himself on the bench and took another swallow of water. “I can see why Molly likes this place.”

“It grows on you,” Steven agreed. “My sister has done a good job with the school. The boys were difficult at first, but two of them are about to graduate with their GEDs, and Roon is doing well enough that Pony thinks he might go on to college. She has made a big difference with these kids. Caleb has given her a good life here. She is happy but it is becoming too much. The buffalo herd is growing, the market for range-raised buffalo is getting bigger... Pony cannot do it all, especially with that little one to watch.”

“Maybe Caleb should hire more help.”

“When he gets here, you can tell him that. He’s tried to hire outsiders, but Pony won’t let him. She thinks the boys should be able to help keep the ranch running, but they are kids,” Steven said, settling back on the bench. “Caleb will be back shortly. He took two of the boys to a livestock auction. He gives them each a certain amount of money to bid. He says it is the best way to teach them about math and critical thinking at warp speed.”

“Huh,” Joe said. “What happens if they win what they bid on?”

“If they win, he brings it home and they have to take care of it. This teaches them responsibility.”

“And this is a livestock auction?”

Steven nodded. “Yes.”

Joe thought about that for a moment. “We grew up in the city and couldn’t even have a dog,” he said. “I wonder if Caleb would be interested in adopting me. I’m good at math, but I’m not so sure about the critical thinking at warp speed.”

Steven grinned. “You will have to ask him. He should be here soon. He just called Pony to warn her about the goats.”

“Goats?”

“It would seem one of the boys bid successfully.”

Sure enough, within minutes, a big Chevy Suburban towing a livestock trailer came into view, climbed the gentle grade from the creek and pulled up near the corrals. Doors opened and two boys climbed out. A tall, athletic, sandy-haired man with a mustache emerged from the driver’s seat, raised an arm toward the house in a casual wave and turned to embrace Pony.

Steven pushed to his feet and brushed more dirt off his pants. “Do you like goats?” he said to Joe.

Joe stood. “Guess I’m about to find out,” he said and followed Steven down the steps. When they reached the corrals he was introduced to Caleb McCutcheon, a retired baseball Hall-of-Famer, and the boys, Jimmy and Roon, who had pooled their auction money to buy the goats. “They’re an Alpine/Saanen cross,” Jimmy said as Caleb lowered the ramp on the back of the livestock trailer. “They make the best-tasting milk and cheese. It was a really good price for all five of them, and they’re real pretty,” he added.

“Pretty does not pay the rent,” Pony said, opening the corral gate. “Let’s have a look. We’ll get them settled in, give them hay and water and then you boys better get washed up. It’s time to eat.”

“The owner said their milk makes the best soft cheese on the market, and it’s really popular,” Jimmy said as Roon began to lead the goats out of the trailer. They were smallish, brown-and-black colored with big udders, droopy ears and strange yellow eyes. They had collars around their necks with plastic numbered tags dangling from them. “He said we could make a lot of money selling the cheese.”

“Is that right?” Pony said. “Do you know what Montana’s rules and regulations are for making and selling cheese from a home dairy?”

Jimmy shook his head.

“Then you can probably guess what tomorrow’s lessons are going to be about, right, boys?” she said. They all nodded. “Five goats, that’s a lot of milking. Who is going to be in charge of that?”

“Only three are milking, the other two are dry but the owner thinks they could be pregnant,” Jimmy said. He was stroking one of the goats, who seemed more interested in butting him than in being petted.

“How nice. An expanding goat dairy,” Pony said. She caught Caleb’s eye. “What’s next? Llamas?”

“I think they’re sweet,” Molly said, still holding the little girl on her hip. “I’ll buy some of your cheese, Jimmy. I love chèvre with herbs mixed in it.”

“See, we have our first customer!” Jimmy crowed triumphantly.

At that moment Ramalda rang the dinner bell. She rang it long and loud, the sound peeling out across the valley. The boys didn’t need much persuasion. They were hungry. They rushed to get the goats into the corral, lug water and bring hay. Then they sprinted for the house to wash up. The adults fell in behind, walking at a more sedate pace toward the barbecue pit and picnic tables. “Just so you know,” Joe heard Pony say to Caleb, “I am not going to be the one milking those goats twice a day.”

He heard Caleb laugh softly in reply. “They know the rules, and they know I’ll enforce them. You won’t become a milkmaid, I promise. I talked to the farmer who was selling them. He’s in his late seventies, his wife’s health is failing, so he’s downsizing his herd. These five milk goats are gentle, they’ve been well cared for and they’re all young and healthy. If it doesn’t work out and we have to bring them back to the auction, the boys will make their money back. They really did get them for a steal, and it’ll teach them all about the legal hoops a farmer has to jump through to sell home-raised and -produced product.”

“And all about milking twice a day, rain or shine, winter or summer, which includes today right after supper because three of those goats need milking very soon, and then straining the milk and pasteurizing it and making the cheese. Don’t forget making the cheese,” Pony added. “Somehow I can’t see the other boys helping out with this production.”

“They don’t have to. They didn’t buy the goats. Roon and Jimmy did.”

“Roon’s going to be working with Jessie full-time this summer and they’ll be on the road doing farm and ranch calls dawn to dusk. When is he going to have time to milk goats and make cheese?”

“Jimmy’s thirteen and plenty big enough to tackle this project by himself,” Caleb said. “Looks to me like he’s about to find out what running a goat dairy’s like.” He pulled Pony close as they walked toward the ranch house together. “Don’t worry. One way or the other, it’ll all work out. It always does.”

* * *

CHARLIE AND BADGER showed up just as Ramalda was ringing the dinner bell, and shortly after that another vehicle arrived and Joe got to meet Jessie Weaver and Guthrie Sloane, who were partners in the Bow and Arrow Ranch and lived a couple miles away in a cabin on Bear Creek. A good-sized crowd, but Ramalda and Pony handled the meal as if it were a common everyday occurrence. Joe supposed it probably was, if tonight’s Saturday barbecue was any indication of the typical menu served. He’d never seen so much food, and every bit of it was delicious. Lively banter flew around the tables, blow-by-blow descriptions of all the animals sold at the auction, talk about Molly and Steven’s wedding plans, the announcement of Molly’s pregnancy, which caused a happy babble of commotion, talk about the buffalo herd and talk about making a fortune in goat cheese. And when the boys found out Joe was a big-city cop, there was a moment of guilty silence and darting eyes followed by a barrage of cops-and-robbers questions.

“Let the man eat,” Pony said, putting another platter of ribs on the table. “Maybe if you’re really nice to him, he’ll come back and talk to you about what he does, but it’s not polite to talk with your mouth full.” She took the toddler from Molly’s lap. “You need to eat, too. I’ll feed Mary.”

“I’m in love with her,” Molly said, giving the little girl up reluctantly. “Is she staying?”

Pony shifted the toddler onto her hip and shook her head. “We don’t know. Her mother was hurt in a car accident and is in the hospital. Her father can’t take care of her. Mary is my nana’s sister’s great-granddaughter. I said I would watch her until her mother was well, but we don’t know if she will get well. She was badly injured.”

“Bring her over here, Pony,” Caleb said. “I’ll hold her while you sit and eat. You’ve been on your feet all day, which you wouldn’t have to be if you let me hire another cook to help Ramalda. The boys have cleanup detail, and Ramalda will ride herd on ’em. You rest and eat.”

Joe hadn’t eaten this much food since last November’s legendary Ferguson Thanksgiving. He was about to push his plate away when Ramalda marched over to the picnic table and added another scoop of spiced beans and a fresh hot buttered wedge of corn bread. “You’re too thin,” she said, scowling her disapproval. She picked up the platter of ribs and forked three more onto his plate. “You need much good food. Eat!”

“Don’t even think about arguing,” his sister cautioned. “You won’t win.”

* * *

MOLLY CLIMBED THE porch steps after supper, holding little Mary in her arms. She sat down beside Steven and Joe with a happy sigh and plopped the toddler in Steven’s lap. “I just love this place. Those boys are great. I only wish I had a fraction of their energy.”

“You have plenty of energy,” Steven said. “Any more and I wouldn’t be able to keep up with you.”

The sun had set, the twilight was thickening and cold air sank down from the high places. Steven had brought their coats from the car and Molly put hers on. “Did you get enough to eat, Joseph?” she teased, and Joe could only groan in response. Molly’s cell phone rang and she fished it out of her jacket pocket and answered with her usual brusque, “Ferguson,” listened for a few moments during which her expression changed from sublime to serious before she stood abruptly. “My God, Dani, are you all right?” A few more seconds passed. “And you have it in the car with you, and you’re driving and talking on a cell phone?...Okay, listen to me. Hang up. You’re almost to the ranch. I’ll tell Pony you’re coming. Roon and Jessie are here...Yes, yes, we’re all here. I wanted Joseph to see the place. Just drive safe, okay? Hang up and drive!” She ended the call and looked at Steven. “That was Dani. She’s pretty upset. She went hiking up Gunflint Mountain in the Arrow Roots earlier today and found the herd of wild horses she’s been photographing, but four of them had been shot. She rescued an orphaned baby horse. She somehow got it all the way down to her car, loaded it in with the dogs and is on her way here. She just drove through Katy Junction, so she’s about ten minutes out.”

Steven pushed to his feet and handed the baby back to her. “I’ll go tell Pony.”

CHAPTER FOUR

THE SUNSET WAS spectacular but Dani was too distraught to appreciate it. Twilight thickened into dusk. The Subaru’s headlights illuminated the dirt road ahead. She glanced over her shoulder into the back of the vehicle, where the pale foal lay flat on her side as if dead. Maybe she was. Remmie lay beside her and Winchester was in the passenger seat. Both dogs were quiet and had been since she’d lifted the exhausted foal into the back of the station wagon. The walk down the mountain had seemed to take forever, one step at a time leading the wobbly foal, yet darkness was still only hovering on the far side of the mountains as she approached the Bow and Arrow. They’d made it to the ranch before full dark, something she hadn’t thought possible. If the foal was still alive, Jessie could save her. Dani knew the Bow and Arrow was her best chance for survival.

Dani passed the old cabin by the creek and headed for the ranch house. There were old kerosene storm lanterns hung in the barbecue area, illuminating the picnic tables in their soft light. In the gathering darkness she saw kids clearing away the supper dishes, the glow of coals and the slow lick of flames in the fire pit. She parked the Subaru and saw Molly coming down the porch steps toward her. She climbed out of the driver’s seat and the words rushed out of her, fueled by relief and adrenaline.

“Molly! I’m so glad you’re here. The foal’s in the back of the Subaru. I don’t even know if she’s still alive. She was just born when I found her and it was such a struggle getting her down the mountain. Where’s Pony? Is Jessie around? The poor thing hasn’t eaten and she had to walk all the way down to the car and she’s so weak. I had the heater blasting to keep her warm but...”

“It’s okay, you’re here now, you’re safe,” Molly said, giving her friend a reassuring hug. She peered in the back, the interior light providing illumination. “Wow, she’s so little. I think she just blinked—she can’t be dead. Roon and Jessie are down at the barn. Steven went to get them. Come with me, Dani. Sit down before you fall down.” Molly’s arm slipped around her waist and she was guided up the porch steps. “Sit,” she repeated. “We’ll take it from here. I’ll ask Ramalda to fix you a plate of food.”

Dani sat. She’d begun to shake all over, not from the cold but from the relief of making it to the ranch and the release of her adrenaline. Molly vanished inside the kitchen and it was then that Dani saw the troops coming up from the barn. Steven was among them, and Roon and Pony and Jessie. Jessie was carrying her medical bag, and they all paused at the Subaru. Dani watched as the foal was lifted from the back of the car into Roon’s arms. She was as limp as a rag doll. “Bring her in the kitchen—it’s warm in there,” she heard Pony say. If they were bringing the foal into the kitchen, then she was alive.

Dani felt her eyes flood with tears. “Thank God,” she whispered.

“Don’t worry, we’ll take care of her,” Jessie said as she climbed the steps, pausing to squeeze Dani’s shoulder. “You did a great job bringing her here. Do you know if she nursed at all before the mare died?”

Dani shook her head and swallowed past the lump in her throat. “I don’t think so,” she said. “I think she was born just before I got there. Her coat was still wet. I got some of the mare’s milk, though. It’s in my water bottle on the front seat of the car.”

“Excellent,” Jessie said. “Colostrum could make all the difference. How did you know to do that?”

“I grew up on a dairy farm,” Dani said. “All the newborn calves had to get colostrum.”

Once they had all tramped inside the kitchen with the foal, Dani leaned forward and rested her head in her hands, overwhelmed with exhaustion and turbulent emotions. She drew a shuddering breath. The screen door banged and she heard Molly’s voice. “Here. I brought you a mug of coffee with a shot of whiskey in it. I know you don’t like whiskey but sip it. Slowly. Drink all of it. That’s an order. I’ll bring you a plate of food.”

“I’m not hungry,” Dani murmured into her hands, not lifting her head. “All those dead horses... Custer’s dead, too. Who would have done this?”

“Joseph? Make sure she drinks this. She’s in shock.”

Dani lifted her head, and for the first time noticed the man sitting in the shadows, not four feet from her, sharing the same wall bench.

She sat up, startled. “I didn’t see you.”

“I’ll take care of her, Molly. You go check on the patient,” came Joe’s deep voice.

Dani wiped her cheeks and drew a deep breath, letting it out slowly, struggling to get her emotions under control. Joe moved closer on the bench. She saw the reflection of lamplight on the mug he held out to her and took it from him. “Thanks.” She raised the coffee to her nose and the fumes made her eyes water. She took a tiny sip and felt the slow burn head south. “Awful,” she gasped.

“Medicinal,” Joe said. “You need it right now. What happened?”

“I went to photograph Custer’s herd and he was dead, along with three of his mares. All shot, probably late yesterday or early this morning. There’s good tracking snow in the higher spots, and on the road where I parked my car the boot tracks and tire tracks were clear in the mud.”

“Who do you call around here to report something like that?”

Dani drew a steadying breath. “We’ll notify Sheriff Conroy, and Ben Comstock’s the warden in these parts. Jessie knows him well. He’ll probably be the one to check it out.” She took another tiny sip of the fiery coffee. “There’s a big controversy over the wild horses on public lands. The ranchers who pay lease money to run their animals on the lands consider the horses an invasive species that steal the grass and water from their cattle.”

“So, by their own measure, their cattle are also an invasive species?”

Dani’s laugh was humorless. “Depends on your perspective. Anyhow, I doubt that little foal will live.” She stretched out her legs and winced from the pain. “I stashed all my photographic equipment by the side of the trail and my camping gear’s still up at the cabin. I’ll go back and get it all tomorrow. I don’t have the strength tonight and I seriously doubt anyone’ll be up there. It’s off-limits to motorized vehicles and not many people want to hike that far to camp.”

“Any idea who might have shot the horses?”

Dani rubbed a cramp in her thigh and took another tiny sip of coffee. “Hard to say. A rancher, maybe. Legally, the horses are protected as long as they’re on public lands, and Custer’s band was in a part of the national forest, but sometimes they stray. It’s tough to teach horses boundaries when they can’t read. Drought years are hard—they gravitate toward water and that’s usually a water source protected by a rancher. Even the water and graze on BLM lands is hotly contested. The situation can get really ugly. The government holds roundups yearly on public lands to keep the wild horse population in control, but a lot of ranchers don’t think that’s enough and want them all gone. Anyhow, my guess is, with the lack of snow this past winter, ranchers are already worried about the graze and water supplies. Any unbranded horse that strays off public lands is in danger, but this shooting was on public lands. Maybe a preemptive strike? They’re legally protected by the Wild Horse Act, but that’s in a perfect world, right?”

She heard a wry laugh in the darkness. “Right.”

“Jessie Weaver’s family owned these lands for generations, and let the wild horses run on them. She has some of the best bloodlines of pure Spanish mustangs, right here on this ranch. I met her through Molly but I actually heard about her before that through the Wild Horse Rescue. She’s legendary.” The whiskey made her stomach burn but Molly was right; she was feeling stronger. “She’s not only legendary, she’s really nice. She spoke at the Wild Horse Foundation meeting last fall, and she donates her time and experience to the Pryor herd during roundups. If anyone can save that little foal, Jessie can.”

“If she lives, what’s in her future?”

Dani took another sip. The whiskey didn’t taste so bad now. “I don’t have a clue. Do you want to adopt a wild horse?”

“I doubt she would be happy in a big city.”

“Are you?”

“The city’s all I’ve ever known, except for a four-year stint in the military before joining the police department. And I guess guns and violence are the sum of my life experience.”

“So you get shot up back east and come to the Wild West for some rest only to discover we have guns and violence, too. But really, Montana’s great. I love it here.”

“So does Molly.”

At that moment, Molly reappeared from the kitchen carrying a plate of food and a napkin rolled around silverware. “Ramalda won’t let you leave without eating this first. And you’re coming home with us tonight. You can leave your car here and we’ll pick it up tomorrow.”

“I can drive my car to your place, but I have Remington and Winchester, and your brother’s staying at your house.”

“We have three bedrooms, and your dogs are welcome, you know that. We even have a fenced yard. Besides, Joseph might be staying here. Now clean that plate before Ramalda comes out to check on you. That baby horse is alive because of you and Jessie’s going to feed her through a tube into her stomach when it’s warmed up enough. She’s going to teach Roon to do it, too. But she says it’s best to find her a foster mother, so she’s going to make a bunch of phone calls once she’s finished feeding her. Caleb’s already reported the shooting to Ben Comstock and Sheriff Conroy, and Comstock said he’d go up there to check it out first thing in the morning.”

“I’d like to go along,” Joe said.

“That’s too much climbing, Joseph,” Molly said. “You’re supposed to be recuperating.”

“I’ve had enough bed rest to last me the rest of my life. I need the exercise and I’d like to scope out the crime scene. I’m not staying here tonight. There’s no need of it.”

Dani set the coffee down between them. She wondered why Molly thought Joe might be staying at the Bow and Arrow, but the food in her lap smelled good, and she suddenly realized she was starving. Ravenous. She unrolled her silverware from the napkin. “You can come with me tomorrow morning, if you want, Joe. I have to get my camera and camping equipment. It’s not a tough hike if we take our time. We’ll bring some bear spray.”

“Bear spray?” Joe said.

Dani picked up a rib. “The Arrow Roots are grizzly country and they love fresh horse meat. I saw some mighty big bear tracks today.”

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