Shot Through the Heart (Crimson Romance) Read online

  The trail grew more rugged as the horses made their way along the narrow path. The pines fell away, and a full moon lit the mountains. Any other time Laramie would have been awestruck by the moonbeams glancing off the cliffs and the sheer majesty of the land around them. A jagged drop-off edged the left side of them and staggering high peaks were below them now. They had to be close to 10,000 feet.

  They’d started up the Big Misty, and it wouldn’t be long before low-lying clouds obscured parts of the trail. Laramie tried again. “Lawrence, please, I’m begging you. Turn around now.”

  Instead of replying, he stopped. Without looking at her, he dug in his pocket, pulled out a small vial and opened it. He dipped his head and she knew he’d sniffed more coke. God. He was so far gone he could never come back.

  They rode on for what seemed like hours. At times, she couldn’t even see Nightmare’s haunches as they moved through the mist. But she knew they were moving down by the way Pale slid his hindquarters under him. Foggy cloud whispered across her face, soft as a mother’s touch. Laramie’s heart raced so hard she feared passing out. “Think of Mom and Dad and what this will do them.”

  He ignored her.

  “Daddy’s already so bad off, this will finish him.” Laramie’s voice broke as she thought about her father, living in a Denver nursing home, his body broken by a tractor accident.

  Finally, Lawrence stopped and dismounted at a spot in the trail wide enough for the three horses.

  “Oh, God. Thank you.” Laramie was so relieved that she’d finally broken through to her brother, she almost fell off Pale. Her hands had gone so numb she feared them never working right again. But her relief turned to terror when Lawrence untied Julie and lifted her body off Dancer’s back. With no show of emotion whatsoever, he carried her to the edge of the trail.

  “No, Lawrence!”

  Hefting her high, he let go.

  Far below, the sound of Julie’s body crashing into the rocks reached them.

  Laramie’s screams reverberated through the mountains, bouncing from peak to peak. Frantic, she fought the leather binding her to the saddle. This cannot be happening. Please, please let me wake up! Pale danced dangerously close to the edge. Her movements were going to cause Pale to fall with her, dragging Dancer and Nightmare with them. Laramie froze.

  Lawrence turned and walked toward her. She shook her head from side to side.“Lawrence. You’re my big brother. You don’t want to do this.”

  Like a robot, he untied her as she sobbed and begged.

  As blood rushed back into her tingling hands, the pain became unbearable. She couldn’t lift them to fight back when Lawrence unloaded her from Pale. She kicked at him, but he dodged her feeble attempts and carried her toward the same place he’d dumped Julie. Tears poured down her face as Laramie twisted and kicked, but nothing seemed to faze Lawrence. “Please listen to me. Think of what this will do to your career,” Laramie begged. “This will destroy it.”

  As if he couldn’t hear her, he dangled her above the clouds below. Unable to hold on, Laramie was helpless. She tried to connect with Lawrence through her eyes, but he showed no sign of emotion, no remorse.

  “Don’t,” she pleaded just before he let go.

  Chapter Two

  Laramie came to consciousness.

  Her head swam, and her thoughts couldn’t seem to come together. When the memory of flying from the cliff’s edge came hurtling back, she smothered a cry. The sensation of grabbing for anything at all, and finding nothing, stabbed her mind.

  Her stomach clenched as she lifted her head and looked around.

  Somehow, she’d slammed onto a ledge less than two feet wide, and managed to stay on the jagged rock through the night. Far below, mid-day sun glinted off a pond. Julie’s body was out of sight, for which she was grateful. A moan slipped out of her.

  She looked up.

  Nothing by sheer cliffs.

  She glanced to her left.

  Only air between her and the ground.

  The same to the right.

  There was no way down. No way up.

  If she jumped, she’d die.

  Taking a deep breath, she screamed. “Lawrence. Help! Come back!”

  Nothing but silence met her ears.

  • • •

  By mid-afternoon, Derrick Garrison had located half of his cattle and pushed them toward the north pasture, picking up the rest as he went. His Red Heeler, Turbo, dashed through the brush, moving out the strays Derrick missed. He paused and lifted his hat to swipe at his forehead with his sleeve. His entire body was sticky with sweat, his shirt glued to his back. Although sporadic bouts of thunder continued to crash all around him, no rain fell. With a weary sigh, he spoke to his dog and horses. “Let’s break for lunch.”

  The herd spread out to graze. Leaning back against a log, Derrick unwrapped a roast beef sandwich and a bag of chips. As he lifted a steaming cup of coffee to his lips, he took a rough count on his herd.

  He had most of them.

  Turbo barked low and hackles rose along his neck and back. He seemed transfixed by something at the edge of the meadow. Food forgotten, Derrick looked up in time to catch a glimpse of movement. Was there a bear out there stalking the cows? He glanced at the herd, and they didn’t seem concerned, but both horses’ heads were high, eyes wide. Running a reassuring hand down Turbo’s stiff back, Derrick murmured, “What do you see out there, boy?”

  The dog growled again.

  Derrick trusted his dog’s instincts enough to investigate. He pushed to his feet and started toward the edge of the meadow when something big crashed through the trees. Derrick couldn’t get a good look at it, but he figured it for an elk because Turbo froze and fixed on the movement. He wouldn’t react that way to a cow. Maybe a moose. A neighbor claimed to have seen one of the Alaskan transplants last summer.

  A little more unnerved than he cared to admit, Derrick watched for a few more minutes to see if anything appeared. He released a pent-up breath. He had more important things to worry about than a stray moose. “Come on, buddy. Let’s go.”

  • • •

  Derrick had his herd gathered by early evening. Long shadows fell over the mountains, rain clouds came in low, and he was past ready to settle down for the night. He glanced around the valley, taking a minute to admire the majestic San Juans. Tonight their peaks were covered with filmy clouds. For the first time since June — it was now late July — the scent of rain hung in the air and low-lying clouds hovered over the mountain peaks edging his place. Thank God. The mountain valleys were drying up, turning into a desert.

  Thick aspens fringed two sides of his valley, a deep pond for the animals to drink from lay in front of a straight vertical cliff on the backside. A trailhead to the Big Misty lay just beyond the pond. The cattle wouldn’t go up that trail on their own.

  After making sure the cattle drank their fill and settled down for the night, he un-tacked the horses and set up camp. Gathering enough wood to last all night, he built a fire just outside the tent’s door, intending to sleep with the door unzipped so he could listen to the cows.

  Weary, but satisfied with his day’s work, he leaned back against his bedroll and let the fire warm his tired bones. Another day like this one and he’d have his herd set to move to the north pasture. Turbo plopped down beside Derrick, and he stroked the dog’s soft fur. The heeler was the only family Derrick had, and he loved the speckled red dog like a child. If Cheryl hadn’t been more interested in lying and cheating than making a life with him — He cut off that line of thought. Rehashing the past didn’t do anything but make his heart ache.

  Turbo lifted his head and sniffed the rain-scented air. Derrick patted him. “What now?”

  Something had agitated the heeler most of the day, and several times Derrick caught the dog acting as if he wanted to chase something other than cattle. Odd for a dog whose obsession was herding. Derrick looked for anything out of place. Close-growing aspens and blue-black pines obliterated
most of the fading light, turning the edges of the meadow dark. There might be a bear or mountain lion close by but the cattle rested or grazed, seemingly unconcerned.

  Derrick decided to water the horses before he staked them for the night. Rising, he gathered the geldings and led them to the pond. As the horses drank, he searched the twisted tree trunks for any sign of life, but nothing moved except relentless rain clouds rolling in. Wind bent the quaking aspens, testing their trunks.

  Resting one hand on Ash’s slick back, Derrick watched the horse for any sign of unease. The gelding and his companion, Apache, just seemed concerned with drinking. Turbo, however, jumped up and ran around the pond’s edge where it met the cliff. Barking shrilly, his hair stood on end. Derrick called, “Turbo, come.”

  The heeler ignored the command and continued to yap. Surprised by the well-trained dog’s refusal to obey, Derrick muttered an oath. He tied the horses to a tree while Turbo carried on like a crazed maniac. The cliff made the shrill echoes especially irritating.

  From where he stood, Derrick couldn’t see anything but a half-submerged log, but he was certain Turbo had cornered a beaver. Making his way along the edge of the murky pond, Derrick took care not to slip in the deep, black mud lining the bank. He made that mistake before and he didn’t think the moldy stench would ever come out of his custom-made boots. The sun had disappeared behind the clouds, and although it wasn’t yet dark in the valley, the lack of light made shadows fall across the pond’s black surface.

  The log where Turbo had treed his beaver looked odd.

  Resisting the urge to rub his eyes, Derrick knelt at the water’s edge and watched the surface. Turbo bounced up and down, his furious barking making Derrick’s head hurt. Placing a hand on the dog’s mouth, he ordered, “Quiet.”

  Too well trained to disobey a direct command twice, the heeler stopped yapping, but his hair continued to stand at attention. The wind in the trees stilled, too, for a moment as if waiting for Derrick to do something.

  At first, muddy hair spread across a slender back and flung-out arms resembled twisted tree branches. The faint outline of the lower half of the submerged torso looked like a trunk. Certain the image of a body was an illusion brought on by fatigue, Derrick stared. But the longer he looked the more positive he became a human lay in the pond.

  With a curse, Derrick fell back on his butt and jerked off his boots. Slipping down the muddy bank, he splashed into the pond. After the heat of the day, the cold temperature took his breath away. Wading through the muddy water took a great deal of concentration. Each step into the muck sucked at his jeans, pulling them down his hips. Once he moved deeper, walking became easier. Careful not to fall, he made his way to the body.

  When he grew close, his throat closed tight. A young woman lay still, her head twisted sideways, eyes wide open. He grabbed her arm, and his suspicion was confirmed. Colder than a trout’s belly. She was long gone.

  “Hell.” Thoughts whirled through Derrick’s head like a leaf riding a fall wind. How had a girl ended up dead in the middle of the forest? He looked up again toward the cliff ledge about thirty feet above him. The Big Misty came to an end right up there. After the rest of that hair-raising trail, this end was cake. With the incoming storm, it might be possible the girl lost her way and accidentally fell. Or had she jumped?

  When he picked her up, she felt like a bag of broken toys, and he realized most of her bones must have been smashed by the impact. Bogged down by her weight and the hungry mud, he floundered to the water’s edge and deposited her there a little rougher than he would’ve liked. He studied her for a moment. Blood had saturated her blonde hair. Her blue eyes had been pretty.

  Turbo licked her face, and Derrick’s stomach turned. “Knock it off.”

  An eerie moan carried on the wind.

  Derrick’s skin crawled. He had not just heard that ghostly cry. The girl was dead.

  Just to be sure, he checked her pulse. Nothing. The noise had to be Turbo or the muck sucking at his feet.

  A dead girl was getting to him.

  He wasn’t a wimp by any means, but he wasn’t used to stumbling across human corpses in the woods. He was imagining things.

  Gasping, he knelt for moment and thought things through. No way to call for help. He didn’t have a cell phone with him, and there was no reception out here anyway. Night crept in around him and he didn’t think he could pack a cadaver out of the wilderness in the coming pitch-black rainstorm. Dead was dead. The girl wasn’t going anywhere. First light would be soon enough to take her back to the ranch where Search and Rescue could transport the body to the morgue.

  He picked up the body and moved her closer to the tent. After draping his full-length slicker over her, he returned to the pond to look around. The girl twisted his heart. He’d felt lower than a snake’s belly when he looked at her face. With a heavy heart, he returned to the tent.

  He thought he heard a “help.”

  He was losing it. Just to make sure and hardly daring to hope, he felt for a pulse.

  Nothing.

  His hair stood on end, his skin prickled. The wind had to be making weird noises in the trees. As if on cue, rain began to fall. Light at first, but quickly picking up speed.

  “Help.” This time the sound carried clearly through the storm.

  Spinning around, Derrick scanned the cliff. In the fading light, all he saw was gray cliff, jagged edges. The rain made seeing difficult. He scanned again. Halfway up, a girl sat on a narrow ledge. “Help me,” she cried.

  Holy hell. How had she gotten there? No matter. She needed help, now.

  He waved to show he heard her plea and raced for the horses. After throwing his saddle on Ash and mounting, Derrick galloped toward the trail. Reaching it, he slowed the gelding to walk. The narrow path quickly wound up the mountain. When he found a place wide enough to dismount, Derrick stepped off the horse and led him behind.

  Taking care not to fall, Derrick knelt and peered over the edge.

  The girl sat on a narrow outcrop jutting the cliff’s face, her white-knuckled hands curled around the ledge. She sat with her back pressed against the cliff, roughly fifteen feet below him, thirty or forty feet above the pond where her friend had landed. Her face, when she tipped it up to him, looked as milky as a full moon. “Please help me.”

  “Hold on.” Derrick took his lariat from his saddle and made a loop. He tossed it down to her. “Put that around your waist, then around your behind. I’ll pull you up. Use your hands to push away from the wall. Are you strong enough?”

  She grabbed at the rope when it swung past her face. “I think so.”

  It took three tries before she snagged the lariat.

  He made sure she had the rope secured around her, then tied the other end around his saddlehorn. “I’m going to lead the horse forward. I’ll go easy, but if it’s not slow enough, shout out. I won’t be able to see you.”

  “Go,” she said.

  With a light tug on the bridle, Derrick urged Ash forward. The rope tightened. Step by step, the horse pulled the woman up the cliff. When her face appeared over the lip of the trail, Derrick slipped by Ash and hurried to her. He reached under her arms, dragged her onto the narrow trail and fell back on his rear with her on top of him. Safe in his arms, the woman trembled like a leaf in a windstorm. Sobs wracked her body.

  Derrick smoothed her tangled, coppery hair back from her face. “Shhh. You’re safe now.”

  Her sobs increased until her body felt as if it would shatter. “I thought I was going to die.”

  “You’re safe.” Holding her, Derrick waited until she calmed a fraction. “Let’s get you out of this thing.” With gentle hands, he loosened the lariat and lifted it over her head. Freezing rainwater poured over them. “We’ve got to get out of here before we get any wetter.”

  “I can’t.”

  “I’ll carry you. Stay put.” He gently untangled her arms from him and stood. He managed to get Ash turned around, and with a light slap
to the horse’s rear, he sent the gelding down the trail. Then Derrick hefted the girl into his arms. With cautious steps, he moved down the mountain. She clung to him like a small child, but she was anything but a child with her full breasts crushed into his chest.

  Lightning crashed, startling him. He tightened his grip on the girl when she went slack. She’d passed out.

  Adrenaline rushed through him, and he hustled toward camp.

  The rain came in buckets.

  • • •

  Shouldering open the tent’s flap, he gently placed her on his bedroll. Getting her out of the mountains in the dark was out of the question. Running his hands down her body, he didn’t find any broken bones. His pulse picked up when he touched her curvy hips and shapely legs. “You’re safe now. Just hold on.”

  The first thing to do was warm her up. She had been clinging to that cliff for God knew how long. He undressed her, his pulse kicking up another notch at the sight of her lush curves. Her pale, peach nipples were hard from the cold, and his groin tightened. But his flash of desire fled at the sight of bruises and scratches covering her pale skin.

  He pulled one of his spare T-shirts over her head, the length reaching mid-thigh. Then he rolled her up in his sleeping bag tight as a burrito.

  Lightning lit up the sky. Rain poured over the campsite, drowning his fire. Moving fast, he shucked his soaking clothes and yanked on a dry shirt, jeans, and socks. Warmer, he leaned against his saddle and studied the girl.

  He’d never seen her before.

  The Santa Anita valley was a small place, and he knew most everyone who lived here. So far, his side of the mountain managed to avoid the influx of out-of-staters who flooded the neighboring areas. Ranches that belonged to families for generations were now subdivisions. He was determined his property wouldn’t fall into the hands of SUV-driving, latte-drinking strangers. People he didn’t know and understood less.