Montana Sky

she said quietly. “They’re investigating my men. Every one of them.”
    “Mine too. It’s necessary, Willa.”
    “I know it. I left Ham back, and it worries me, not knowing. He and Bess, Wood’s two boys. As far as it goes, Ben, they’re alone.”
    “Ham can handle himself, so can Bess if it comes to that. And nobody’s going to hurt those kids, Will.”
    “I wouldn’t have thought so before. Now I just don’t know. I wanted Nell to take them, go stay with her sister for a while. She won’t leave Wood. Of course if it is Wood, then she and the boys are probably safe.”
    Playing back her own words in her head, Willa blew out a breath. “I can’t believe what I think sometimes, Ben. If it’s Wood, if it’s Jim, if it’s Billy. Or one of your men. I’veknown most of them my whole life. And then I think, maybe Jesse Cooke was the last of it. Maybe it’ll stop with him and we won’t have to deal with it anymore. Thinking that way’s like shoving Pickles and that girl aside.”
    “Thinking that way’s human.” He touched her cheek.
    “I’ve wondered if it might stop with Cooke.”
    “But you don’t believe it.”
    “No, I don’t believe it.”
    “Is that why you’re here? Is that why you’re driving your herd up the same day I’m driving mine?”
    He’d been afraid it hadn’t been a very subtle move, and now he rubbed a hand over the scar on his chin. “You could say I’ve got an investment in you. I look after what’s mine.”
    Her brows rose. “I’m not yours, Ben.”
    He bent down, gave her a quick, casual kiss. “Look again,” he suggested, and went after his coffee.

TWENTY-SIX
    F ROM TESS ’ S JOURNAL :
     
    Driving cattle is in no way similar to driving a Mercedes 450 SL—which is a little something I believe I’ll treat myself to when I get back to the bright lights and big city.
    Driving cattle is an adventure perhaps akin to whizzing along the highway in a spiffy sports car. You go places, you see things, and the wind is in your hair. But it is also a painful business.
    My butt is so sore I’ve got to sit on a pillow to write. I suppose, all in all, it was worth it. The Rockies are a grabber, absolutely. Even finding snow underfoot this late in the year couldn’t spoil it. The air’s different in high country. Purer is the closest I can come to describing it. It’s like the clearest of spring waters in a fine crystal glass.
    We stopped on a rocky plateau and I swear I thought I could see all the way to Nate’s ranch.
    It made me miss him a little—well, more than a little. An odd feeling. I can’t recall ever missing a man before. Sex, sure, but that’s a different matter.
    In any case, the cattle seem to drive themselves for the most part, trudging along with only the occasional complaint. Adam says it’s because many of them have made the trip before and know the drill, and the others just tag along. Still, they make quite a noise with all that clopping and mooing, and the occasional maverick has to be rounded up.
    I watched Will rope a cow and I was impressed. The woman looks more natural on horseback than she does on her own two feet. I’d have to say regal, though I’d never say it to her. Her head’s quite big enough as it is. She’s a natural boss, and I’d have to admit that’s a necessary attribute in her position. She works like a stevedore, again admirable, but I don’t appreciate her cracking the whip in my direction.
    I suspect we meandered a bit on our way up. I have to give her credit for that as well. I have no doubt she lengthened the route for my and Lily’s benefit. It was quite a trip. We saw elk and mule deer, moose, bighorn sheep, and huge, gorgeous birds.
    I did not see a bear. I am in no way disappointed by this.
    Lily took rolls of pictures. She’s recovered so completely you could almost forget all the horror that happened to her. Almost. I think of scales when I think of Lily, with her balancing tragedy and happiness on either end. She’s found a way to weight down that happiness end. I admire that, too.
    But forgetting all the way just isn’t possible. Beneath the tough, focused exterior, Will is a bundle of nerves. We’ve all homed in on the wedding, all seem determined to have nothing spoil it. But there’s worry here. It’s in the air.
    On another front, I’m whipping through the rewrites on my script. Ira’s very pleased with the deal, and the progress. I expect to be inundated with meetings when I get back