Montana Sky

There’s no threat here, and yet I feel threatened.”
    “Of course you do. He was practically in your house.” She began to pace, her stockinged feet soundless. “Goddamn it. Goddamn it! We’re back to the center again. This was put there today, dozens of people coming and going. It could have been anyone. No matter what I do I can’t narrow it down.”
    “He doesn’t mean to hurt me, or you, or Tess.” Lily drew a calming breath. “Or Adam. I’m holding on to that. But, Will, he’ll be at the wedding. He’ll be there.”
    “You’re to let me worry about this. I mean it,” she continued, putting her hands firmly on Lily’s shoulders. “Give me the note. I’ll deal with it, see that it gets to the police. You’re getting married in a few days. That’s all you have to think about.”
    “I’m not going to tell my parents. I thought about it, talked it over with Adam, and decided not to tell anyone but you. Whoever you think should know is fine with me. But I don’t want to upset my mother and father.”
    “This won’t touch them.” Willa took the note, set it on her dresser. “Lily, the wedding means almost as much to me as it does to you. I’ve got, I guess you could say, a double interest.” She tried to smile, but it wouldn’t quite gel. “Not everyone can say their brother and sister are getting married. At least not in Montana. Just concentrate on being a bride. It’d mean a lot to me.”
    “I’m not afraid. I don’t seem to be afraid of much anymore.” She pressed her cheek to Willa’s. “I love you.”
    “Yeah. Same goes.”
    She closed the door behind Lily, then stared at the folded note. What the hell was she going to do now? The answer wasn’t going to bed for a good night’s sleep. Instead, she picked up her boots and walked to the phone.
    “Ben? Yeah, yeah, we saved you some cake. Listen, I need a favor. You want to call that cop who’s working this case and ask him to meet me at your place? I have something I need to show him, and I don’t want to do it here. No.” She cradled the phone between her ear and shoulder, tugged on a boot. “I’ll explain when I get there. I’m on my way. I don’t have time for that,” she said when he startedto argue. “I’ll lock the doors of the rig and carry a loaded rifle on the seat, but I’m leaving now.”
    She hung up before he could shout at her.
     
    “D AMN . STUBBORN . PIGHEADED WOMAN .”
    Willa had stopped counting the number of times Ben had called her that, or a similar name, over the past two hours. “It had to be dealt with, and it’s done.” She appreciated the wine he’d poured her, though it had been a surprise. She hadn’t thought Ben went in for wine, or that he would be playing host after the session with the police.
    “I’d have come for you.”
    “You damn near did,” she reminded him. “You were nearly halfway to Mercy when I ran into you. I told you I’d be all right. You read the note yourself. It wasn’t a threat.”
    “The fact that it was written at all is threat enough. Lily must be frantic.”
    “No, actually, she was very calm. More concerned that her parents not be upset by it. We’re not telling them about it. I guess I’ll have to tell Tess. She’ll tell Nate, but that’s as far as we’ll take it.”
    She sipped again while he paced. She supposed his quarters suited a muscle-flexing type of man. The walls were paneled in honey-toned wood, the floors matching and uncluttered by carpet or rug. The furniture was big, heavy, and deeply cushioned in unadorned navy. There wasn’t a single fussy pillow or feminine knickknack in sight.
    There were, though, framed photos of his family crowding the pine mantel over the fireplace, a set of antique spurs, and a pretty hunk of turquoise on a shelf where books leaned against each other drunkenly.
    There was a hoof pick tossed on a table along with a bone-handled pocketknife and some loose change.
    Simple, basic. Ben, she decided, then decided further that she had let him pace and complain long enough.
    “I appreciate you helping me handle this right away. We could get lucky and the cops could do cop things with the note and figure out who wrote it.”
    “Sure, if this was a Paramount production.”
    “Well, it’s the best I can do for now.” She set the half-full glass aside and rose. “I’ve got a wedding in less than a week and a houseful of company, so—”
    “Where do you think you’re going?”
    “Home. Like I