Midnight Cowboy Read online

  “Aha, I was right,” Cliff Mott said on a chuckle.

  Andy and Jack jerked apart. Andy’s face burned, but Jack looked furious, and she suspected he was wondering the same thing she was: how long had Cliff been standing there? Watching? She realized her first impression of this man was holding steady at every turn.

  “What were you right about, Cliff?” Jack asked between clenched teeth.

  Cliff seemed oblivious to the hostility emanating from Jack’s eyes, from his fisted hands and his hunched shoulders. “About the two of you. But it seems to me you could find a better place to make out.”

  “We were looking for Duke.” Andy stepped between the two men. “Would you know where we could find him, Cliff?”

  He tossed his head, flipped a hank of his white blond hair off his forehead and winked at her. He re minded Andy of a white rat she’d had as a child; it, too, had had those small blue eyes.

  Cliff said, “Duke and Uncle Gene are out riding. They go about twice a week.”

  Jack’s hostility faltered. “Your uncle rides a horse?”

  “Sure. He needs help into the saddle, but once there, he’s in full control.” His gaze swept Andy and she squirmed uncomfortably. “Say, why don’t you come down to the house? Least I can do is offer you something to cool off…on this hot day.”

  Jack wanted to smash the man’s rude innuendo down his throat. With an effort of will he reined in his temper and, instead, placed a protective hand on Andy’s shoulder. “That’s real neighborly of you, Cliff, but Ms. Hart and I have plans and we need to get started before the day slips any further away.”

  Cliff’s smirk was obnoxious and knowing.

  Andy decided he could think whatever he liked. She squared her shoulders and strode past him, but as she started through the doorway, she spotted a string of bird claws—like a line of caught fish—hanging on the side wall. Her step faltered and her stomach clenched. She stifled the urge to point the cord out to Jack, and the stronger urge to yank it from the nail hanger, knowing that it would make noise—and draw Cliff’s unwanted attention. Unwanted questions.

  It was bad enough that he’d tell his uncle about catching Jack and her in this garage. That Gene would likely tell Duke. What if one of them was Nightmare Man?

  She swallowed hard over the unpleasant thought, and the moment Jack and she were alone, heading down the sloping road to Main Street, Andy told him about the cord of bird claws. He seemed only mildly interested. “Trouble is, it doesn’t prove Plummer’s a killer, just a taxidermist.”

  Frustration knotted in her chest. She stepped closer to Jack, seeking the reassurance his nearness always induced, but instead of reassurance she sensed a remoteness about him. This was not the same man who’d kissed her a while ago. This was a man holding himself apart from her—and Andy supposed she knew why.

  “Jack, I’ve been meaning to tell you something.”

  He glanced down at her. His sage green eyes looked almost silver as he studied her face with an intensity that sent shivers of awareness through her. She’d swear this man could read her very soul. “You haven’t asked me anything about Tim—”

  Jack raised his hand. “If you’re talking about that kiss—I…You…” His Adam’s apple bobbed as if he had something stuck in his throat. Then anger sparked in his eyes and his voice rose an octave. “Why the hell hasn’t that…that…fiance of yours—”

  “Yesterday I told Tim I couldn’t marry him. I ended our engagement.”

  Jack stopped as if he’d rammed into an invisible barrier. In three seconds his expression ran the gamut from surprise to joy to uncertainty. His eyebrows dipped low. “Why? Because of Nightmare Man?”

  Because I’m falling in love with you. But she couldn’t tell Jack that. If he didn’t feel the same, it would break her heart, and right now her emotional strength was shaky enough without adding that burden. “I can’t promise him a future—I’m not certain I have one.”

  “You’ll have one,” Jack declared with such conviction she almost believed it was a fact instead of only a possibility. Her spirits lifted. Jack had a way of restoring her hope whenever it seemed she’d depleted the last of it.

  She loved him for that. “I’m not certain what my future holds, but I am sure of one thing. I’m not the woman I was before I came to Alder Gulch. My innocence, my naiveté are gone…forever. I’m not the woman Tim fell in love with, not the woman he wanted for his wife.”

  Then he’s the world’s biggest fool, Jack thought. But what about Andrea’s feelings for Tim Freyton? Were they different? Or had everything she’d learned about herself these past few days overwhelmed her to the point where she was incapable of deciphering one feeling from the next? That kind of shock would throw anybody off kilter.

  Jack started walking again. Andy fell into step beside him, and having her there felt so natural, so satisfying, he knew he’d always want her there. But fear gripped his heart. What if he pressed his feelings for her?

  He recalled with blood-stirring vividness the way she’d kissed him a short while ago. He recognized genuine passion when he held it in his arms, but did her desire arise from affection for Jack Starett, Jr., the man, or was it the result of the incredible bond they shared? He stared at the toes of his snakeskin boots, kicking up dust with every step. He couldn’t discount the risk factor; danger was a potent aphrodisiac. Anyone might be swept away on its unpredictable tide.

  But once her world was on course again, would Andy realize she still loved Freyton? He shoved his hand through his hair.

  Like a giant spotlight, the sun hung over Alder Gulch, accentuating the eerie quietude on Main Street, and reminding Jack he had more than Andy’s rebounding heart to worry about. Her very life was at stake. Before they could even confront the issue of a future together, they had to lay the past to rest. They had to beat Nightmare Man.

  Minutes later they were inside the Golden Broom’s dining room. It was as deserted as the town, and without all the usual clamor of people, Andy realized a lot of money had been spent to make this restaurant and bar look rustic and old.

  “At last, some customers.” Red stood behind the counter, rummaging in the cash register. He slammed the till drawer shut and squinted at them. “Hotel’s standing empty—had to cancel a whole day’s reservations. This murder business is destroying my profit schedule.”

  “Speaking of the murder.” Jack bent over, planting his palms on the counter. “Did you know someone stole the bullet that killed Coop?”

  “Someone…?” Caught totally off-guard, Red stiffened, his mustache twitched and he leaned away from Jack. “This is the first I’ve heard of that. You think Duke or Gene stole it when you left them alone—while I was calling the sheriff?”

  If this was the first Red had heard of the stolen bullet, then why, Jack wondered, did he have such a ready answer to his own whereabouts? “I’m not accusing anyone.”

  Red frowned. “Then just what are you doing?”

  Jack straightened, retreating a step away from the counter. “Just asking if you knew anything about it.”

  “Well, I don’t.” Red smiled uneasily, glancing toward Andy. “I won’t be happy until this whole mess is laid to rest. Man can’t make a living anymore—what with murderers running around killing his friends.”

  “Red Yager, ya heartless cuss. All yer thinkin’ about is yer profits, and poor Virgil Cooper ain’t even buried yet,” Minna Kroft reprimanded as she marched through the swinging bar doors and over to join them. “You ain’t the only one with canceled reservations. So jest quit yer grousing. Sheriff Birdsill assures me he’ll be allowin’ tourists back into town in another day or so.”

  “Two days or more?” Red groaned. “Meanwhile, I’ve got maids standing around twiddling their thumbs and I’m paying top dollar for my chef to waste time making sandwiches for Birdsill and his deputies like this restaurant was a blasted deli.”

  Red rolled his neck and drew a long breath, releasing it slowly a moment later. His
expression lightened and he put on his usual jovial manner, a deportment, it struck Andy, that was a practiced act.

  Grinning, he grabbed hold of three menus. “Least I can do is see that my real customers get proper service. You’ve got your pick of the house today, folks. Which table will it be?”

  Jack cleared his throat and looked sheepish. “None for Ms. Hart or me.”

  “Oh?” Red’s mustache seemed to sag. “Then what can I get the two of you?”

  Andy grimaced. “Some sandwiches…to go.”

  The ruddiness of Red’s cheeks darkened to a deep magenta.

  “We’re going into the foothills for a picnic,” Andy blurted out as though it were somehow her fault that the restaurant had no customers. What was she doing? She didn’t owe these people an explanation.

  “The foothills?” Red considered her with a squinted gaze that went beyond curious.

  But Minna glanced from Andy to Jack with the look of someone who discerned romance in the air. Inexplicably, Andy felt a need to deny this. “Jack’s taking me horseback riding. I haven’t had much chance since I was a teenager.”

  Minna smiled as smugly as a fat cat. “I see.”

  Red also had a knowing look in his eyes, but Andy couldn’t detect the source of it. He opened a menu and pointed to the listing of sandwiches, then instead of asking what they wanted to order, he said, “Wouldn’t be riding out to the old Woodworth place, would you?”

  Andy’s breath caught, but Jack found his voice right away, and somehow he managed to keep it level. “Why do you ask?”

  Red shrugged, squinting again. “Rumor’s going around town that Ms. Hart is actually Arlo and Marcy Woodworth’s little girl. Any truth to that?”

  Andy felt heat shoot into her face as she jerked her head toward Jack. He’d narrowed his eyes, but she could almost hear the cogs whirling through his mind; they were likely spinning as fast as her own.

  Should she deny the rumor? No. What was the point of continuing to keep her identity a secret? The note left in her room invalidated any safety that might have existed in the element of surprise. In fact, now it was probably wiser to let everyone know who she was. There might be one or more people who’d actually look out for her welfare. “The rumor is correct. I am Leandra Woodworth.”

  “Well, hang me for a polecat.” Red slapped the counter. “If this hasn’t been some kind of week.”

  “No. It can’t be true.” Mouth agape, Minna stared at Andy, then shook her head. “You ain’t Marcy’s daughter. Little Lee Lee had them same crazy-colored eyes as Arlo. Yer eyes are both blue.”

  “Tinted contacts,” Andy explained.

  Minna’s hand went to her chest as she digested the news, still shaking her head, getting used to the idea. “Where you been all this time? What you been doin’? How’s Eloise?”

  Andy sighed at the mention of her grandmother. “Gram died two months ago. Her heart.”

  Minna made a sad face. “Well, now, I’m right sorry to hear that. I was fond of Eloise. Yep, that’s a real shame. I always wondered what become of you two. Imagine, Marcy’s little girl writin’ historical romance novels.”

  “Yeah,” Red added. “Imagine.”

  He seemed as stunned as Minna, but, Andy reminded herself, the man was a good actor. “It sounds like you both knew my parents well.”

  Red laid an order pad on the counter. “Everybody in this town knows everybody else well.”

  “Ain’t that the truth.” Minna snorted. “The rumor mill in this town is better than any old newspaper.”

  “But my mother didn’t grow up in Alder Gulch.” Andy remembered. “Daddy met her in Missoula.”

  “At college,” Minna mused. “My, but she was a pretty little thing. Real head turner. Your daddy was the envy of near every young buck in town.”

  Andy gazed pointedly at Red. Had he been one of the young bucks who’d envied her father? Who’d pressed his interest in her mother to the point of murder?

  Red blushed, but quickly recovered, squinting hard at Andy as if something had just occurred to him. “So that’s why you wanted to see some photographs of the town twenty years back. You’re here looking into the murders. Got a new lead or something?”

  “You mean she remembers who Nightmare Man is?” Minna asked eagerly.

  “No. Nothing like that.” Andy raised her hands in protest. “I only learned who I was after I arrived in town.”

  Red sniffed, glanced at Jack, then back at Andy. “Then you’re not riding out to inspect the old homestead? As Arlo’s only heir, I’d imagine it still belongs to you.”

  Minna frowned at Red, who didn’t seem to notice.

  With all that had been happening, Andy hadn’t even thought about that, but she highly doubted the ranch still belonged to her. There was no way Gram would have continued paying the property taxes.

  Would you, Gram? Not when you had no intention of ever returning to Montana. Not when you’d done your best to persuade me never to set foot inside this state. Not when you were trying to keep our whereabouts secret. She could hear Gram say, Know when to cut your losses, girl. Sometimes the prize isn’t worth the price tag.

  Who did own the Flying W now?

  “Actually, since you’ve suggested it, Red…” Jack stepped up to Andy and gazed down at her. “Would you like to see what’s left of your childhood home?”

  Her heart hitched at his words, but she took his lead. “Yes, I think I would. I’m sure one of these two can tell us how to get there.”

  AN HOUR AND A HALF LATER, food packed in their saddlebags, Jack was astride his Appaloosa and Andy a roan mare. Red’s directions had them traveling east out of town toward the Madison Mountain Range in the distance. The day had gotten away from them, and they were getting a much later start than Jack had wanted. It would probably be dusk before they headed back.

  As the horses cantered side by side along the road, Andy bounced awkwardly like a first-time rider. Several minutes passed before she began relaxing and riding with her old finesse. Heat pressed her back, but she felt cold inside. Anxious. The steady clomp of the horses’ hooves on the hard-packed road and the occasional squeak of the leather saddle seemed only to add to her dread.

  “You handled yourself well when Red dropped his bombshell.” Jack’s compliment intruded on her anx iety, scattering it. “But you seem a little tense now.”

  “I’m okay. Did you notice the odd look Minna gave Red when he said I still might own the Flying W? What do you suppose that was about?”

  “No idea.” Jack shrugged. “But it was curious.”

  “What do you think of Red?” While she had fielded Red’s questions, Jack had quietly stood to one side, observing. “Is he Nightmare Man? Or just the relater of town gossip?”

  Jack lifted his Stetson a notch higher on his forehead. “I’m not sure. He was quick with an alibi for the missing bullet, but he seemed genuinely surprised about your being Leandra Woodworth.”

  “But was he surprised? He’s a pro when it comes to hiding his feelings.”

  “Yeah, I wouldn’t want to play poker with him.” The old frustration skittered through Jack. What they needed was some proof. If only Andy could remember. He realized she was probably thinking the same thing. Her knuckles were white on the reins. He wished he could ease her tension, get her mind on something else.

  He drew an unsteady breath, smelling the familiar scents of horses and leather and dust. He loved Montana fervently—every stick, every rock, every creek, every rolling hill and vast mountain. He was starting to love this woman with the same kind of passion.

  The inside of his mouth felt wet and his blood beat hot at every pulse point. He longed to loosen the ribbon that bound her glorious hair at the nape of her neck, to kiss her in just that spot.

  “This must be the juncture Red mentioned.” Andy cut through his thoughts.

  Jack calculated they’d ridden a quarter mile out of town. He assured her she was right and they turned southward. “Come on, I
’ll race you.”

  Accepting the challenge, Andy pressed her horse to a gallop and soon they were fairly flying over the rolling hillsides that meandered into the distance like huge swelling waves of green and umber. Near the foothills were clumps of alders. And their destination.

  They were laughing by the time they’d reached the last knoll. Jack reined in, easing the horse to a canter. Andy did the same. Her gaze went automatically to the clump of alders, but something else caught her atten tion. “Jack, look. Just cresting the knoll. Riders.”

  Jack followed her pointing finger with his gaze. “I’d say the lanky one is Duke Plummer. So the other must be Gene Mott.”

  “What are they doing out by my parents’ old homestead? Do you suppose one of them bought the place by paying the land taxes?”

  “I can’t imagine it was worth much, but I wouldn’t put anything past these two. Why don’t we have a little chat with them?”

  Jack veered into the path of the other two riders, who reined to a stop as he and Andy approached. She plastered a smile on her face, but the sight of the rifle each man carried in their saddle holsters sent a bead of sweat trickling down her spine.

  Gene Mott sat the saddle with the ease of a man who had full use of both his legs. He wore a huge white hat, likely to protect his fair skin from the unrelenting sun, but the hat and his long-sleeved shirt were sweat stained and streaked with dust, as if he’d been toiling at some physical labor, not merely riding a horse on a warm summer day. Duke, also, had a sweat-dirtied shirt and dark smudges on his forehead and nose.

  “Out to enjoy our glorious country, I see.” Gene tipped his hat. “How is that book coming?”

  “It’s coming,” Andy answered in a guarded voice.

  “Perhaps I could help it along.” Gene’s smile didn’t reach his eerily pale eyes. “I recall you expressed an interest in my Alder Gulch diaries. If you’d care to come by the house tomorrow and take a look at them…?”