Montana Sky

SEE THE FOREST and the climb of mountains into the sky. Night was coming more quickly as October gave way to November. From the window, she could watch the sun drop toward the peaks. It had hardly been two weeks since she’d come to Montana, but already she knew that once the sun fell behind those shadowy hills night would come swiftly and the air would quickly chill.
    The dark still frightened her.
    She looked forward to the dawns. To the days. There was so much to do, she could spend hours on the chores. She was grateful to be useful again, to feel a part of something. In so short a time she had come to depend on seeing that wide spread of sky, the rise of mountains, the sea of land. She’d come to count on hearing the sounds of horses, cattle, and men. And the smell of them.
    She loved her room, the privacy of it, and the grace, and the house with all its space and polished wood. The library was stuffed with books, and she could read every night if she chose to, or listen to music, or leave the TV murmuring.
    No one cared what she did with her evenings. No one criticized her small mistakes, or raised a hand to her.
    Not yet.
    Adam was so patient. And he was gentle as a mother with the horses. With her as well, she admitted. When he guided her hands down a horse’s leg to show her how to check for strains, he didn’t squeeze. He’d shown her how to use a dandy brush, how to medicate a split hoof, how to mix supplements for a pregnant mare.
    And when he’d caught her feeding an apple to a yearling on the sly, he hadn’t lectured. He’d just smiled.
    The hours they worked together were the best of her life. This new world that had opened up for her had given her hope, a chance for a future.
    Now that could be over.
    A man was dead.
    She shuddered to think of it, to be forced to admit that murder had slunk into her bright new world. In one vicious stroke, a man’s life was over, and she was once again helpless to control what happened next.
    It shamed her that she thought more of herself and what would happen to her than of the man who had been killed. It was true that she hadn’t known him. With the skill of the hunted, Lily had easily avoided the men of Mercy Ranch. But he had been part of her new world, and it was selfish not to think of him first.
    “Christ, what a mess.”
    Lily jumped as Tess swung into the kitchen, and her hand tensed on the dishrag she’d forgotten she was holding. “I made coffee. Fresh. Are they . . . is everyone still here?”
    “Will’s still talking to the cowboy cops, if that’s what you mean.” Tess wandered to the stove, wrinkled her nose at the coffeepot. “I stayed out of the way, so I don’t know what’s going on, exactly.” She walked to the pantry, opening and closing the door in jerks. “Anything stronger than coffee around here?”
    Lily twisted the dishrag in her hands. “I think there’s wine, but I don’t think we should disturb Willa to ask.”
    Tess just rolled her eyes and wrenched open therefrigerator. “This adequate, if slightly inferior, bottle of Chardonnay is as much ours as hers.” Taking it out, Tess asked, “Got a corkscrew?”
    “I saw one earlier.” She made herself put down the cloth. She’d already wiped the counters clean twice. Opening a drawer, she took out a corkscrew and handed it to Tess. “I, ah, made some soup.” She gestured toward the pot on the stove. “Bess is still running a fever, but she managed to eat a bowl of it. I think—I hope she’ll be feeling better by tomorrow.”
    “Uh-huh.” Tess searched out wineglasses herself, poured. “Sit down, Lily. I think we should talk.”
    “Maybe I should take out some coffee.”
    “Sit down. Please.” Tess slipped onto the wooden bench of the breakfast nook and waited.
    “All right.” Lily sat down across the polished table and folded her hands in her lap.
    Tess slid the wineglass over, lifted her own. “I suppose eventually we should get into the story of our lives, but this doesn’t seem to be the right time.” From her pocket she took the single cigarette she’d slipped out of her secret emergency pack, twirling it in her fingers before reaching for the book of matches. “This is a pretty ugly business.”
    “Yes.” Automatically Lily rose, fetched an ashtray, and brought it back to the table. “That poor man. I don’t know which one he was, but—”
    “The balding one, with the big moustache and bigger belly,” Tess told her, and with a shrug