So Hard To Forget Part 3

Preston quickly recovered and asked as he looked around, "But what about while we're fis.h.i.+ng? Are we safe?" "

"Of course you are. And you'll all be equipped with walkie-talkies. If anything should occur, and I doubt that it will, all you have to do is remember to never run and call for help." She tried to interject just the right amount of humor into her speech, and as she talked she noticed that Hal had half turned away. When he swung back, he had a small pistol in his hand. She felt a chill run through her, then forced herself to count to ten: "I came prepared for something like this," Hal said. "Brought my own protection." He waved the handgun in the air.

Max heard Reed groan, the sound snapping him out of his shock. He started toward the idiot swinging the gun around as if it was no more dangerous than a glove. He was almost upon Hal when he was stopped dead in his tracks, not unlike Pepper, by Nicole's glare.

She'd wanted to flinch or duck at the way Hal was handling the weapon. Instead, she'd tucked the rifle under her arm, the barrel pointing down, and while Hal had postured and bragged to the others, she'd stepped over to him, which was when her angry gaze locked with Max's. Now moving with care, she calmly reached out and grabbed hold of Hal's wrist. Her fingernails dug into his flesh and pinched a nerve so that his fingers went numb. With her free hand, she swiftly twisted the pistol from his hand.

As she worked at unloading the weapon and controlling her temper, Hal moved as if to reclaim his property. She jabbed him in the stomach with an elbow hard enough for him to realize she'd done it intentionally. When she finished emptying and checking the gun, she said, "Follow me, Hal. You and I are going to have a private chat." She didn't wait to listen to his complaining, but headed back up the path. When she was out of the others" hearing, she swung around, waiting for him to catch up.

"I'd like my--"

He got no further. She was suddenly in his face, soft-spoken, but there was no doubt that she was furious. "Listen very carefully, Hal, because I'm only going to say this once. Dawson's does not allow guests to carry or bring weapons onto the mountainmperiod. There is no hunting on our property. You know that by the agreement you signed. You broke the rules." "But you--"

"My weapon is used strictly for your safety." He opened his mouth to protest, but she didn't give him the chance. "You're this close--" she demonstrated a minute distance with thumb and forefinger getting your b.u.t.t kicked down the mountain and off the property. Think, Hal. Four thousand dollars apiece is a lot of money for you and your friend to lose.

"And yes," she said seeing the question and confusion in his face, "you go, then so does Preston, and you can explain to him why. Now if you two want to have the week you've paid a lot of money for, if you want to really enjoy yourselves, then I suggest you take stock of your situation and stop trying to play at being macho. Four thousand bucks apiece is a lot to lose over stupidity." She wasn't about to stop there. "And do us both a favor. Don't make any more pa.s.ses at me. I'm not interested.

"As for the gun, you best just write it off as a loss, because I plan to turn it over to the sheriWs office for disposal." She watched as Hal struggled with every thing she'd said. "There's no negotiating any of this, Hal. It's my way or no way."

She waited, calm but watchful. At last the tension seemed to seep out of him and she relaxed. But the problem wasn't completely over. She now had to do something so he could save face with the other men. When he turned and glanced at his friend and the others, she knew what to do. She held out her hand and smiled.

"You're a tough broad," he said, little by little managing to grin, then, after a brief hesitation, he accepted her handshake.

"I know." She patted him on the shoulder. "But the gun's a gorier, so don't try and sweet-talk me out of it." He laughed and they started back toward the waiting group.

Nicole glanced around at the deepening shadows. "We've got about forty-five more minutes before we reach the lodge," she said to no one in particular. "If we hurry, we'll make it in time for everyone to clean up and have drinks on the veranda to see the sunset."

They resumed the hike. Max had no idea what she and Hal had said, but it looked as if she'd done all the talking. And he hadn't missed the fact that she kept Hal's gun and pa.s.sed it unceremoniously to Reed to pack away as she addressed the group. He knew something else. Whatever she'd said to Hal had worked.

"Did you know that Nicole can stand in the middle of a stream and just by talking hypnotize those big old granddaddy trout to just jump right into her arms and beg to be fried up and eaten?" Reed asked.

Max did a double take as what Reed said sunk in, then laughed. "Where'd you hear that story?" "Old Charlie. Says she has the magic touch. Knows how to handle people and fish. She's a schoolteacher, did you know?"

"No, I didn't know, but that explains it doesn't it? If she can control a bunch of kids, then six men oughtta be a piece of cake."

Reed nodded. "Guess." He cleared his throat. "Where "bouts in New York do you live? Charlie said you were something like a private detective."

"Security consultant." Max bit back a smile. "Cool."

"The office and my apartment overlook Central Park. You ever been there?"

"Naw, but I'd like to."

"What would a Montana man do in New York?" Reed felt his chest expand with pride. He liked the way Max talked to him. As if he were an equal. "I'd want to be an actor--go to New York and take acting lessons. We do some stuff here, plays and things..." He gave a long deep soulful sigh as if the weight of the world were on his shoulders. "But my dad wouldn't hear of it. He'd have cats and dogs if he knew. He says acting is for people without brain cells."

"What about your mother?"

"She thinks I'm too young."

"Well, Reed, she may be right. If you waited a couple of years, what do you think she'd say?"

"Probably be okay with it. Cry a lot if I left." They fell silent.

Even with the span of years between them, they both had the same understanding of mothers.

It was an opening. For a brief moment Max let his gaze wander to the ghost leading the way up the trail. B'uthmark be. He couldn't go on the way he was; he had to start his investigation somewhere. But from the first time he'd seen her alive and well, his heart had stopped and he'd thrown all reason out the door. If she truly wasn't Sandra, then he had to face the fact that Sandra was dead to him forever. And if Sandra was dead, then who was Nicole Dawson?

Reluctantly Max decided to h.e.l.l with standards, scruples and rules. He took a steadying breath and repeated his earlier question to Reed. "How long have you known Nicole?"

Reed cast him a look of bewilderment. "All my life."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah, sure I'm sure. We've always spent a week at the lodge every summer. Have for as long as I can remember. Dad and Mom like fly-fis.h.i.+ng. Nicole and Charlie always joined us. It's sort of like a tradition."

Four thousand dollars a week per person seemed a little extreme for a family holiday. Not for the first time Max wondered who Reed's parents were and what line of business they were in. But as the question formed in his mind, it just as quickly disappeared. They'd come around a bend in the trail and he'd almost b.u.mped into the still group of men. Everyone had stopped to stare.

It was like walking head-on and wide-awake into another world. The sheer proportions, the gigantic scale of the setting, dwarfed them all. Like the rest of the men, he stood gaping. In the clearing ahead, beyond the neat curving flower beds and winding walkways was the lodge. A huge two-story log structure on a ma.s.sive stone foundation. The same light gray stones were used in the chimneys, and Max counted no less than six. A wide porch wrapped around the entire first floor and was dotted with groupings of rocking chairs and small tables. The muitipaned windows on both floors were as tall as a man and caught the rays of the sun through the tree limbs, so it seemed as if the windows were winking at them. The trees around them looked bigger, the clouds in the sky near enough to reach out and touch. Even the air "was different. Sweet. Cleansing. Like a man in a dream, Max trailed behind the others as they moved forward. The closer he got to the incredible structure, the greater his astonishment. The logs of the lodge were enormous. As he gawked, he was reminded of the hasty history and background information Doug had gathered on the Dawsons. He wished he hadn't been so distracted on their flight to Montana by his heaving stomach and fear. He might have learned more. But he knew that the land and mountain had been in the Dawson family for more than four generations. It was Nicole's great-grandfather who started the construction of the lodge and her grandfather who finished it and turned it into a business. Another tidbit of something Doug said came back to him. Teddy Roosevelt, the old Roughrider himself and twenty-sixth president of the United States, had spent time at the lodge on one of his so-called working vacations. Whatever Doug had tried to tell him disappeared from Max's mind as something new captured his imagination. How in h.e.l.l, he wondered, did men without the aid of today's machinery possibly move, notch, then lift these colossal logs, especially to a two-story height? With an effort, he brought his attention back to the real world and smiled. He'd always considered If he'd seen it all and could prise him. Well, he'd been wrong, and from the looks of wonder on the others" faces, they were just as impressed. He was the last to climb the steps to the porch, and like someone playing follow-the-leader, he turned to see what they were all staring at in such hushed reverence. He felt his own breath cut off in his throat. They'd trekked up the sloped side of the mountain, the side that looked as if Mother Nature had sheered the land off at an angle to make room for the thousands of acres of fertile valley below. But there was another side, and they now stared out at a panoramic view right out of every sportsman's fantasy. About two hundred yards away was the river, s.h.i.+ning like liquid gold in the dwindling daylight as it snaked its way down the mountain. Through the trees he could see where it widened, then narrowed, its banks forming a sandy pebble beach. In other places the course of the river was changed by huge gray boulders, smooth and s.h.i.+ny from the flow of the water. Just gazing at the water and the deepening shadows of the trees, Max sighed, feeling a true sense of tranquillity. Nicole appeared beside him and leaned against the railing. Everyone else had gone into the lodge. Why she'd picked him to talk to was a mystery, she thought, especially considering the warning she'd issued him earlier. But she'd seen something in his face that drew her. Maybe it was the way he gazed out at the river and the land, something about the yearning in his eyes that whispered to her. Or maybe it was e way he moved, with such sureness and confidence. It had been a long time since she'd been physically attracted to a man. And she admitted she was more than a little attracted to Max Warner. More than just a casual fascination bloomed in warm ripples inside her. She felt heat when he was near, and cold when he left. Her feelings amused and angered her, but she wasn't foolish enough to deny them. She wasn't one to run away from trouble, because she knew it usually caught up with her eventually.

"Takes your breath away, doesn't it?" she said.

"Yes. It's unbelievable. But you know that--you see it all the time. Right?"

"True. Still, I never get fired of being here, of seeing it. Even in the winter when everything is frozen and white under a thick layer of snow, it stirs my heart."

"Have you ever left?" His voice was raspy from the lump in his throat.

"Yes. College, then..." Her voice trailed away. She didn't like to think that far back and b.u.mp into too many unhappy memories.

"For any length of time after college?"

"A little over a year." She glanced at her watch, then pushed away from the railing. "You have time to clean up and meet everyone back here in thirty minutes for a pre dinner drink. The sunset is something you shouldn't miss, New York, not on your first trip here."

Max chuckled at the nickname she'd given him. He could have told her things, of places he'd been and things he'd seen, but he let her have her way. "All right, all right, don't nag me, Montana. I'm going."

She liked his smile. It had a quality, a depth, almost as if they shared an intimacy of some sort. She was being fanciful and shook her head. But she watched him walk away, noting his movements and the strength under the tight worn jeans. He had a way about him that sent her pulses pumping. Just then, he paused at the door, turned and caught her a.s.sessing him. Heat bloomed in her cheeks, but she refused to look away. He winked and grinned. And all she could do as he continued on in was sag against the railing. G.o.d, what a look he'd given her! She'd felt it right down to her toes.

"He's a looker, ain't he Miss Nicky?"

Nicole jumped at the voice, then smiled. JD Weaver was the chef at the lodge. He and his wife, Penny, who was the housekeeper, had been working at Dawson's for more years than she could remember. She grinned as he walked toward her, then touched her lips to his scratchy cheek. JD wasn't a tall man--he stood eye to eye with her but he was wiry and strong. His head was completely bald, and he was seldom without a baseball cap. Under the bill of the cap his dark eyes crinkled at the corners with amus.e.m.e.nt. His face, from endless hours in the sun, was deeply grooved and lined. If JD wasn't in the kitchen, everyone knew they could find him at his favorite fis.h.i.+ng spot, and G.o.d help the person who disturbed him.

"What you grinnin" at, girlie?"

"You. Did Ash and the truck arrive all right?" JD nodded. She didn't fool him. He'd seen the way her eyes had followed that man. "Henny-Penny's been in hog heaven, cleaning and putting their gear in their rooms. The kid helped her."

"Ash?"

"She made him scrub toilets, too, and I'm gonna make him peel the taters later. Thinks he's goin" fis.h.i.+ng with me in the morning."

Nicole bit the inside of her cheek to keep. from smiling. "He's pretty good for his age, JD. You better watch out."

"When a snot-nosed, fuzzy-face baby of elevenm h.e.l.l, he ain't even got all his good teeth yet--can outcast and out fish old JD is when I hang up my rod." He glanced around furtively, then leaned closer and whispered, "Did you bring me my el v?"

"I shouldn't have." Since Penny had made him give up chewing tobacco, he usually had a wad of bubble gum in his cheek, just to fill in the empty s.p.a.ce, he told her. Now the craggy face split the seams parted, as he smiled. She dug a small bag with a hard square of tobacco out of the pocket of her shorts. For a second she hesitated. "You promise--just a tiny sliver once a day and only while you're fis.h.i.+ng?"

JD laid his hand over his heart. "Swear on my sweet mother's grave."

She handed it over, watching as he stuffed it into the back pocket of his jeans. "You know what Penny'll do to me if she finds out."

"Ain't no reason for Henny-Penny to know, now is there?"

Nicole s.h.i.+vered dramatically. "I'll pray she doesn't." Penny Weaver was a small round grand-motherly woman with dark sparkly eyes, and she could be a formidable ally or foe. Nicole had been lashed by the sharp edge of her tongue enough in her life to dread a repeat. She'd also been held in Penny's loving embrace.

Nicole watched ID beat a hasty retreat so he could hide his treasure. Anyone looking at or talking to old ID would immediately think he was just a typical cow-no one would ever dream that his culinary skills had been finely honed in Paris, or that he spoke French like a native-born Frenchman. When their guests left, they didn't know whether to brag about the fis.h.i.+ng or rave about the food.

Glancing at her watch, she cursed under her breath, then headed to her room for a fast shower and change of clothes. The first night for the guests was the most significant. It was the time to make them feel welcome and comfortable and still set down the rules they'd have to follow for the week.

-She was all too aware that some guests balked at the restraints put on them, but once she made them see that they were deep in the wilderness and not at some fancy resort, things usually settled down. Dawson Mountain wasn't predator-free. There were dangers everywhere--the four-legged kind, as well as the two-legged variety. Thinking of predators immediately brought Max Warner to her mind's eye.

CHAPTER FIVE.

MAX WAS AS IMPRESSED with the interior of the lodge as he was with the exterior. The soaring heights of those ma.s.sive log walls and the oversize stone tire-places were almost overwhelming. A wide staircase divided the first floor, with the dining room and what he a.s.sumed was the kitchen area on one side and the lounge on the other. At the top of the stairs, the second floor formed a U-shaped gallery leading to the numerous guest rooms. In his rash to get cleaned up, he barely had time to notice much about the room other than its comfort and unostentatious luxury. Mainly he was pleased to see that with six men showering there was plenty of hot water.

He was obviously quicker than the others and had time on his hands--time he needed to put to good use, but privately. He explored the porch, and as he turned another corner, he was pleased to find himself back where he'd started. The porch really did wrap around the entire lodge.

He continued his casual stroll, once accidentally b.u.mping a chair and sending it rocking violently. When he rounded another corner, hidden from sight, but still within the hearing of anyone who ventured outside, he stopped. Leaning against the railing, he pulled the cellular phone from his s.h.i.+rt pocket and dialed. After ten rings, agitated and frustrated, he was about to hang up when Doug finally answered.

"What the h.e.l.l were you doing--taking a nap?"

"h.e.l.lo to you, too, Max. I wasn't exactly in a position to answer right away."

"Why?" There was no need to take his short temper out on his friend.

"If you must know, I was attempting to draw to an inside straight. I lost, and Charlie's gone to get us beer and another family alb.u.m. Max, she's not Sandra. No way in h.e.l.l, partner. I've seen pictures of her naked on a bearskin rag, her first time on a horse, first day at school, first date, her high-school prom and all the summers and vacations in between. She's not Sandra."

Max didn't want to hear it but listened nonetheless. "She has a crescent birthmark behind her left ear identical to Sandra's. Explain that, will you?"

"I'm beginning to believe that saying about everyone having a double somewhere in the world. I think we've just witnessed the truth of the statement."

"You're saying it's one of those weird happenings, like UFOs, alien abductions, ghosts and Bigfoot?"

"You don't believe in UFOs? Did I ever tell you "

"No, and don't do it now." Max was suddenly worried about his partner. When Doug was on a job, he was usually the serious one, all business. Time was money in his pocket. "What the h.e.l.l have you been up to, besides playing cards and looking at old photographs?"

"Having a d.a.m.n good time. Charlie Dawson is a real character, and I've nearly laughed myself silly.

Why, the wily old coot's won three hundred bucks off me."

Max couldn't believe what he was hearing and was about to voice his concerns when the amus.e.m.e.nt in Doug's voice died completely away. "The office's come up with a few things. Charlie's been in some questionable business deals lately. He managed to lose a lot of money recently because of bad judgment or bad advice. Add to that the fact that he loves gambling, women and liquor ... well, it's taken all of Ni-cky's savings to pay the taxes and pull them out of the hole. Right now they're riding on what's being made off the outrigger and guide business. And they'd be doing okay if Charlie could stay away from the liquor and the cards."

Max thought he heard the sound of voices coming from around the corner and said, "Keep digging into his daughter's past. There has to be a logical explanation." '

"And if there isn't? If it's just what I said--look-alikeswwhat then?"

"I become a UFO watcher and an instant believer in all the other things." Doug laughed. Max hadn't heard that wild cackle in a long time, and it brought on his own genuine smile.

"Max, wait. One more thing, There're been some strange things happening around here. Seems there's been a rash of thefts, like missing machine parts. Then there were a couple of small unexplained fires that could've been disastrous if they hadn't been caught and extinguished in time. A lot of the animals have got sick, and the vet had to be called. Plenty of other peculiar things, too, but you get the drift. Individually not much, but: put them together and they add up to some hefty expenses. It all has the earmarks of intimidation, and I think it's just another thing on Bedford's agenda for getting Charlie to sell."

Max was sure he'd heard a door slam and footsteps. "You're more familiar with him than I am. Is that his style?"

"Oh, h.e.l.l, yes. Carl Bernard Bedford is far from being born with a silver spoon in his mouth. He came up hard and rough. I think he's made his wishes known to his men, given them a free hand at being creative."

Now Max was sure he heard someone on the porch. "I have to go, Doug. Keep things rolling there and I'll do the same. I'm going to have the answer I need by tomorrow, then we'll go from there." He cut any--thing Doug might have said off with a press of a b.u.t.ton, then stepped around the corner, smiling as he watched his hostess.

It hadn't taken her long to shower and dress. Dawson's was a vacation lodge; casual attire for dinner was not only acceptable, but mandatory. She was wearing a pair of chocolate corduroy slacks and a heavy cable sweater of a lighter shade of brown. It seemed evenings on the mountain were surprisingly cold as the wind s.h.i.+fted and blew down from the snowcapped Rocky Mountains. Max stepped out of sight.

A puzzled scowl settled between Nicole's eyes as she glanced up and down the length of the deserted porch. She could have sworn she'd heard a voice. Then she noticed the gentle movements of the empty rocking chair and began looking around. But her concern was immediately forgotten as she started checking the hors d'oeuvres, the platters of a variety of cheeses, crackers and frail JD and Penny had set up '.

the bar beside the door, and the crystal gla.s.ses caught the light and flashed a prism of colors.

The first night and last night were toasted with champagne, and the dark bottles were iced and waiting. She gave another quick glance around, checking to make sure she was alone, then stuck her finger in the iced bowl of caviar, popped the gob of glistening black beluga in her mouth, then closed her eyes and savored the rich salty flavor.

"Why is it I wonder, that something snitched tastes so much better?" Max grinned as her eyes widened in surprise.

Swallowing hard, she said, "Jeez, you scared the ... you scared me to death. Where did you come from?" She noticed the cellular phone in his hand and couldn't help her look of disgust.

"Be still a second." He reached out and lightly touched her lip, showed her the black bead of roe, then, as she watched, he slowly licked it off the tip of his finger.