Читать книгу Honor Bound - B.J. Daniels, B.J. Daniels - Страница 8

CHAPTER TWO

Days before

“HEY, COWBOY, I heard about that stunt you pulled. Chasing a killer on the top of a moving train? Who do you think you are? A modern-day John Wayne?”

Sawyer Nash chuckled into the phone, unconsciously rubbing his injured leg. “The chasing part wasn’t bad. It was the getting shot and falling off the train that bruised my ego.”

“Sounds like it bruised a lot more than that.” Sheriff Frank Curry grew solemn on the other end of the telephone line. “Seriously, how are you?”

“Bored. The doc says I can’t go back to work for a few months. They tried to saddle me with an office job, but you know me.”

“I do. You like to be where the action is.”

“Same could be said about you, Frank. How are you doing?”

A long silence filled the line, making Sawyer sit up straighter.

“I’m thinking about retiring after the election,” the sheriff said.

“Really? Have anything to do with who gets elected?”

“Not exactly. But that’s why I wanted to talk to you. As you know, our local rancher and senator, Buckmaster Hamilton, is the Republican candidate for president.”

“If this is about canvassing for his vote, he’s got it.”

Frank laughed. “No, it’s about his daughters. Well, one daughter in particular.”

“Oh?”

“I hear she’s in your part of the state. Her name is Ainsley Hamilton. She’s the oldest of the senator’s daughters. The other five are living around here now. Bottom line—I’m worried about her. Apparently there’s been some man following her off and on for months now.”

“A reporter?”

“I don’t think so. She was home for a visit recently and happened to mention it. She thought maybe her father had hired him to keep an eye on her. Buckmaster swears he didn’t, and I believe him. It just seems...odd.”

“You think it has something to do with her father’s run for president?”

“Seems likely.”

“She get a good look at this guy?”

“Apparently not. He wears a cowboy hat, keeps his distance, but according to her, he’s followed her from town to town.”

“What does this Hamilton daughter do that takes her from town to town?” Sawyer asked.

“She’s working as a scout for movie and television commercial locations in the state. I realize you’re not a hundred percent—”

“More like seventy-five to eighty.”

“So you wouldn’t be up to seeing if you could find out what’s going on?” Frank asked.

“As bored as I am? Are you kidding? Anyway, it sounds pretty cut-and-dried. I can check it out. If he’s tailing her, he shouldn’t be hard to spot. I could have a little talk with him.”

“I’ll email you everything you need to know to get started. Just send me the bill,” the sheriff said.

“Not a chance. I owe you. You’re the one who got me into law enforcement to begin with.”

“And look how that turned out.”

* * *

AINSLEY HAMILTON REINED in her horse to look back toward the mouth of the narrow canyon. Shielding her eyes from the glaring sun, she glanced past the walls of rock to the dark pine trees at the entrance.

The Montana sky was a cloudless blue overhead, the sun hot on her back, but there was a bite in the air reminding her it was almost November. Winter wouldn’t be far behind. But fortunately, this was her last contract finding locations for productions. She hadn’t even wanted to take this one, but Devon “Gun” Gunderson had made her an offer she’d felt she couldn’t refuse. It had been fun for a while, but dealing with directors was getting her down.

Gunderson turned out to be worse than most because he was a perfectionist. He kept changing locations so it was no surprise that the commercial had run over schedule. She’d never imagined it would take this long to shoot. She’d already been here for two days, and as far as she could tell, she would be here another two or three days, maybe longer.

The canyon ahead of her would make a beautiful spot to shoot one of the last scenes before the commercial for a pharmaceutical drug company wrapped. But she wasn’t sure she could convince Gunderson of it. While the others on his crew called him Gun, she couldn’t bring herself to because he seemed to like his nickname too much.

At a noise nearby, Ainsley turned. A few moments ago she’d heard what sounded like someone behind her. Listening, she heard only the wind high above the canyon walls. Turning back, she studied the opening in the walls of rock. Nothing moved.

Had she been followed from the old mountain resort? Gunderson had gotten accommodations for them, even though the place had already closed for the season.

But that didn’t mean that whoever had been following her for months wasn’t behind one of the trees or rocks in this very Western-looking part of the state watching her. She’d sensed someone watching her for so long, that this time she could be only imagining it.

But her instincts told her it wasn’t her imagination. Over the months, she’d often sensed the man’s presence. As she did now. It gave her an eerie vulnerable feeling she didn’t like. If only the man would show himself. She’d gladly confront him. But he was careful never to let her get a good look at him. All she’d gotten were glimpses of a shadowy figure wearing a dark-colored Western hat.

He also was careful never to appear when there were other people around. It was one reason she had mentioned it to only a few people. It made her sound unbalanced, since one moment he was there and the next he was gone as...as if he’d never existed.

It was enough to make a woman think she was losing her mind. Not Ainsley, though. She had too much common sense for that, she told herself and spurred her horse forward.

As she rode deeper in the canyon, she luxuriated in cool shadows that fell across her path. The day was getting warmer. But she knew from being born and raised in Montana that the weather could change in a heartbeat. That was one reason this commercial needed to be completed this week—before a storm blew in and snow began to fall and they all got stranded back in here.

The canyon was as lovely as she’d heard it was. One of the local girls hired to work in the kitchen had suggested it. With the sheer rock walls, a few scrub pines and the spring at the end of the canyon, it looked as Western as any part of Montana. Now all she had to do was talk Gunderson into taking a look.

Ainsley rolled her eyes thinking of the conversation she would have with him when she returned. Ahead, she could see where the box canyon ended in a wall of rock. Only one way out of here. Back the way she’d come.

She led her horse over to the rocks where a warm spring bubbled up. It was beautiful here, perfect. Gunderson would be a fool not to consider it. She groaned at even the thought of having to deal with him today. Just a few more days, she told herself. Then what?

The original company that hired her had another film crew wanting someone to scout locations for some winter scenes, but she’d declined the offer. She had to be home for election night. Her father wanted his family with him. She couldn’t help being excited for him. Of course he would win.

Then maybe whoever had been following her from town to town would quit shadowing her every move. At first she’d thought the man had to be a reporter. And yet he’d never tried to talk to her. If only she’d gotten a good look at his face. With a shiver, she reminded herself that he could be anyone, and she wouldn’t know it.

“Can you give me any kind of description?” the sheriff had asked after her father had insisted she talk to him.

“That’s just it. I can’t. If I didn’t know better, I’d think I was imagining him. I’ll be somewhere, and I sense him watching me. I turn and catch movement as he drops back out of sight in a group of people or hidden in the darkness. One time I ran after him—”

“That’s a bad idea,” Frank had said.

Ainsley had laughed. “Tell me about it. I hadn’t gotten very far, when I came to my senses. I don’t think he’s dangerous, though. I almost feel like he thinks he needs to keep an eye on me. I know that sounds crazy.”

“No, it doesn’t. Have you seen him recently?” the sheriff had asked.

“A few days ago when I was in town, but now I’m staying out in the mountains at this closed resort.”

“At least there you should be safe.”

But she didn’t feel safe, she thought. Especially today when, unless she really was losing her mind, she sensed he had followed her into the canyon.

Her horse’s ears went up at the sound of the clatter of rocks underfoot was carried on the wind. She rubbed her horse’s neck as she looked back down the canyon. There were too many twists and turns for her to see very far.

“You heard it, too, didn’t you?” she whispered to the horse. “I wasn’t wrong. We aren’t alone, are we?”

Another clatter of rocks echoed through the canyon. Her horse’s head came up as the mare let out a whinny.

She’d definitely been followed. But this time, she was ready for him.

* * *

NEAR THE END of the mountain road, Sawyer rounded a curve, and the resort came into view. The huge old stone hotel looked abandoned, but behind it, he spotted a scattering of small equally old log cabins set against the mountainside. There were vehicles parked in front of all but one.

He’d stopped in town to get directions to the isolated resort. A woman at the general store had told him that the resort was closed, but some movie types were staying up there shooting commercials.

“At least that’s what they said they were doing,” she told him suspiciously. “I doubt any of theirs will be airing during the Super Bowl, from what I heard from the locals who got hired.” She’d eyed him openly. “You looking for work?”

“I heard the place is for sale,” he said noncommittally.

“It is. You thinking about buying it?”

He’d only smiled and thanked her for the directions.

Now, to the right of the hotel he saw a wide meadow where it appeared a carnival had been erected. None of the rides were moving, though, and he didn’t see anyone around. The rides had taken on an almost ghostly look out in the meadow so far from civilization. Strange, he thought as he drove on in.

There was only one car parked in front of the hotel. As he pulled up, he saw the license plate read: MURPH. As he got out of his pickup, a nondescript dark-haired man came out of the hotel. He had on a tan uniform shirt that read Security. He eyed Sawyer but said nothing.

Sawyer tipped his Stetson and limped up the stairs to the wide porch. The view of the mountain peaks surrounding the place was incredible. He couldn’t help taking in the breathtaking beauty of the area as he opened the huge, weathered wooden front door and stepped inside.

It was cool and dim in the old lobby. At one time, no expense had been spared to maintain this landmark hotel. But that was years ago. Times and tastes had changed. The carpet was as worn as the marble floors. He called out a tentative, “Hello?”

“In here,” came a female voice from a room off the lobby.

As he headed in that direction, he debated how to handle this. The door was slightly ajar. He tapped on it.

“It’s open,” called the female voice from inside. “Don’t be shy.”

He stuck his head in the doorway to see a woman sitting at a desk, her head down as she scribbled something on a scratch pad. “I’m looking for—”

“You’ve found her,” the woman said without glancing up. “Come on in.”

As he stepped in, she looked up and gave him an appraising once-over. “Not bad. Not bad at all.” She motioned in a circle with her hand. When he didn’t move, she said, “Turn. Let’s see your backside.”

“Pardon me?”

“Don’t pretend to be shy with me. I’ve seen more than my share. Turn around.”

Sawyer did as ordered, chuckling to himself as he heard her let out a low whistle. What kind of commercials were they making up here anyway?

“Yep, you’ll do,” she said, getting to her feet. “Wait a minute. Are you limping?” Before he could speak, she said, “You can ride, though, right?”

“I assume you’re referring to a horse?”

She smiled and jammed her hands down on her abundant hips. “Cowboys,” she muttered under her breath as she sat back down. “You’re the best I’ve seen today. Just tell me if you can ride for long shots.” She was eyeing him as she talked. “You could also stand in for a carnie once they get the rides going. Yep, I’m betting they’ll want you for a couple of days.” She turned toward a board with keys on it. “You’re in luck. We have one cabin left since the hotel is closed. So I’m assuming you wouldn’t have driven all the way up here unless you could stick around for a few days?”

He started to correct her, to tell her that he hadn’t come here looking for a part in whatever she was shooting. But instead, he heard himself say, “I can ride, and I can stay for a while.”

“Great. Fill out this form and be back here by seven in the morning.” When he didn’t interrupt, she continued. “Here.” She slid a cabin key across the desk at him. It was connected to a piece of wood with the number eleven burned into it. “There’s food in the hotel kitchen 24/7 when we’re shooting. You can dress just like you are. But if you feel you need wardrobe—”

“No.” He’d play along but would draw the line at being duded out. “I didn’t see any horses on the way in. Where do I—”

“Just go back out the front door and follow the smell. Ted will assign you a horse and saddle.” With that she waved him out as her phone rang, and she quickly picked it up with a—

“Hey, that better be you calling to tell me you have what I need for tomorrow.”

As he left, he hoped Ted would know where he could find Ainsley Hamilton.

* * *

AINSLEY TIED HER horse’s reins to a tree limb and pulled the pistol from her saddlebag. She’d taken it from her father’s gun safe before she’d left home the last time. She hadn’t told him, not wanting to worry him. He wouldn’t miss it, and she’d been afraid she might need it. He’d taught her and her five sisters to shoot at an early age, so a gun felt just fine in her hands.

“I don’t want you to be afraid of guns, but also I want you to have respect for them,” Buckmaster had said. She and her sisters had become quite adept at target practice since they were all fairly competitive.

The problem was the difference between a paper target—and a person. It was a person who’d followed her. Someone on horseback? If so, that would mean he’d gotten one of the horses being used for the commercial shoot.

And if she was right, he’d followed her, knowing that she was trapped in the box canyon with no way out if he decided to take this opportunity to finally confront her.

Show your face. The way he kept hidden added to her growing anxiety about the man. What did he want? Maybe she was about to find out.

She snapped off the safety, telling herself she wouldn’t kill him—just wound him. Unless he was armed. That thought sent her heart pumping. He finally had her entirely alone. Was that what he’d been waiting for?

The sound of rock on rock. Gun raised, Ainsley moved through the narrowest part of the canyon and stopped to listen. She could almost hear him breathing; he felt that close.

* * *

TED WAS A young cowboy, skinny and tall with a shock of red hair and ever-present sunburn. He gave Sawyer a nice-looking roan and a saddle and told him he lived on a ranch not far away. It was clear that he was excited to be providing horses for a TV commercial.

“A friend of mine works up here. Ainsley Hamilton? Do you know where I might find her?” Sawyer asked.

Ted nodded and smiled, before pointing off to a wide open meadow and a stone cliff behind it. “She took off toward Box Canyon about twenty minutes ago. You could probably catch up to her. Wouldn’t hurt to get some saddle time in before you have to go before the camera, I would imagine,” he said.

“I’d appreciate that,” Sawyer said and saddled up. Riding past the still and silent carnival, he headed for the canyon. The day was quite warm now for the end of October. The leaves on the aspen trees in the meadow hadn’t fallen yet. Sun-dappled, they shimmered red, orange and gold in the breeze. Past them, the pines were a dark cool green at the mouth of the canyon.

The moment he rode into the ponderosa pines, the temperature dropped. The sheer rock walls cast the canyon in shadow. Sawyer noticed what appeared to be an old creek bed winding its way out of the canyon. He could see Ainsley’s horse’s tracks in the dirt.

Reining in, he swung out of the saddle. He’d decided to walk into the canyon, rather than ride, to give him time to consider how he would handle this. Normally he preferred the truth.

But he’d gotten the feeling from Frank that he was dealing with an independent woman who might resent him butting into her business. Also, she didn’t know him from Adam. He figured it might make her less self-conscious if she thought he was just an extra hired on for the commercial. He might be able to find out who was following her, take care of the matter, and Ainsley would never have to be the wiser.

The commercial was supposed to wrap in a few days, according to Ted. Sawyer figured he’d be able to find the man tailing Ainsley long before that.

Tying up the horse at the opening of the canyon, he ventured in. As he came around the corner between the two rock cliffs, he heard something and drew up short. Standing just yards ahead was a young blonde woman dressed in jeans, boots and a blue-checked Western shirt, holding a gun on him.