Montana Sky

He’d just needed a quick fix, that was all. One calf. He’d meant to drag it away from the ranch yard, but the knife had just leaped into his hand.
    And now Ham. He’d never meant to hurt Ham. Ham had trained him, worked with him, paid attention when attention needed to be paid. He’d always felt Ham had known the truth about where he’d come from and who he was.
    And Ham was loyal.
    But now there was no choice. It had to be finished. He crouched down, prepared, just as Willa rushed out of the night.
    “Ham? Is that you? I forgot to tell you about the—” Her boots skidded. Lightning flashed, bursting light onto the men all but at her feet. “Oh, sweet God, what happened to him? What happened?” She was already on her knees, turning him over into her arms. “Did he—” And there was blood on her hands.
    “I’m sorry, Will. I’m sorry.” He turned the knife on her,held it to her throat. “Don’t call out. I don’t want to hurt you. I swear I don’t want to hurt you.” He took a deep, shuddering breath. “I’m your brother.”
    And bringing his fist up, he knocked her cold.
     
    H AM WOKE TO PAIN . FIERY , BLINDING PAIN . HE COULDN ’ T pinpoint it, couldn’t find the source, but he tasted blood in his mouth. Groaning, he tried to sit up, but couldn’t move his legs. He turned his head, saw that the calf had bled out. Its eyes were dead.
    Soon, he thought, he’d bleed out too.
    There was something else on the ground that caught his eye. He stared at it a long time, watched it come and go as his vision cleared and blurred. Then hissing, he crawled toward it, brushed the tip with his fingers.
    Willa’s hat.
     
    H E HAD TO CARRY HER . HE SHOULD HAVE GONE FOR A rig, knew he should have, but he’d been so shaken he hadn’t been able to think clearly. Now he laid her as gently as he could on the ground near the pasture and with a trembling hand rattled a bucket of oats.
    They’d go on horseback. It was probably best. He wanted to get her away, into the hills a ways so that he could explain everything to her. She’d understand once he had.
    Blood was thicker than water.
    He saddled the paint pony that nosed into the bucket, then the roan that tried to nuzzle through.
    Oh, he hated to do it, even temporarily, but he tied Willa’s hands, tied her feet, then strapped her across the saddle. She’d come to shortly, he thought, and she’d try to get away before he could explain.
    She had to understand. He prayed she’d understand as he vaulted into the saddle, took both pairs of reins. If she didn’t, he’d have to kill her.
    Thunder stalked closer as he rode into the hills.
     
    H AM CLUTCHED THE HAT IN HIS HAND . STAGGERED TO his feet. He managed two drunken steps before he went tohis knees. He called out, and though his voice boomed in his ears, it was barely a whisper.
    He thought of Willa, hardly more than a baby with a milky mouth, grinning at him as he plopped her into the saddle in front of him. A little girl, all braids and eyes, begging him to let her ride out to pasture with him. An adolescent, gawky as a colt, running wire with him and chattering his ears off.
    And the woman who had looked at him tonight, her heart in her eyes when she’d told him he was the one who counted.
    So he bit back the pain that was eating through him like cancer and fought his way to his feet again.
    He could see the main house, the lights in the windows circling in front of his eyes. Blood dripped through his fingers and onto her hat. He didn’t feel the ground when it jumped up to meet him.
     
    S HE CAME TO SLOWLY , HER JAW THROBBING . HER EYES focused on the ground bumping and falling beneath her. She tried to shift, found herself snugly secured, lying across the saddle with her head dangling. She must have moaned, or made some sound, for the horses stopped quickly.
    “It’s okay, Will. You’re okay.” He loosed the straps, the restraints on her legs, but kept her hands secured. “Need to ride a little further. Can you handle it?”
    “What?” Still groggy, she felt herself lifted, then she was sitting in the saddle, shaking her head to clear it while her hands were strapped tight to the horn.
    “You just catch your breath. I’ll lead your horse.”
    “What are you doing?” It leaped back into her mind but refused to root there. “Ham?”
    “Couldn’t help it. Just couldn’t help it. We’ll talk this through. You just—” He broke off, dragging her down by the hair when she