Montana Refuge. Alice Sharpe

the snow had melted, but probably not that long before. Of course it had melted; Tyler wouldn’t be moving the herd if it hadn’t.

      She’d helped with a few of the cattle drives when they were first married five years before. Then she hadn’t been able to stand being away from Tyler for very long and those nights under the stars or cuddled in his tent still awakened twinges she doubted would ever completely go away.

      Sooner or later, she’d just stopped going. He’d called her spoiled and immature for not wanting to help, and she’d wanted to snap his head off. Was it immature to like different things, to want more out of life than cows and mountains?

      The only one in the horse barn was Lenny, the farrier, and he was busy clipping the hooves of a palomino Julie didn’t recognize. She returned his smile of greeting and walked down to Babylon’s stall. Sure enough, the big red gelding was still there, his white blaze as blinding as always, his huge brown eyes alert and soft at the same time. He whinnied when he saw her and she offered him the apple she’d taken from the barrel as she entered the barn.

      “How have you been?” she said as he dispatched the apple in a couple of bites. “Are you mad at me, too?”

      The horse sniffed her hands for more produce and she stroked his head. “Want to sneak away for a while?”

      The horse whinnied again and Julie opened the stall door. It was while she fastened a lead to his halter that she noticed a jacket hanging from a hook on the outside of the stall and beneath it, next to a stool, a pair of boots.

      Her jacket, her boots, both still sitting here after a whole year as though she’d taken them off yesterday.

      She looped the lead around a post and sat down on the stool, turning each boot upside down to make sure it wasn’t home to a spider or two, then exchanged her casual leather shoes for the boots. They fit as they always had, like a second skin. Babylon snuffled her hair as though in approval.

      Next she shook out the denim jacket and exchanged it for the red one. “I’m back, at least for tonight,” she told the horse, and led him to the area they used for saddling.

      Waving off the help of a new wrangler, Julie saddled Babylon before leading him out of the barn. She rode toward the river, not as comfortable and accomplished a rider as Tyler, but Babylon was an easy horse with a smooth gait and an even temperament.

      She didn’t need to think twice about where to head. There was one spot that had always filled her with peace when she felt this way and she headed there now. She would go to the river even though it meant riding by the century-old ranch house she and Tyler had shared during their marriage.

      The house was still there, two stories of white shingles, a broad porch, barns and pastures and corrals. Tyler’s truck wasn’t pulled up out front and she wondered if he’d moved back to the main house after she left. The place had a deserted appearance.

      Eventually, as she got closer to the river, the land began to slope gently downward until it sported underbrush, trees and wandering animal trails. She heard the rush of water before she saw it, catching sparkling glimpses through the branches as she headed to the bend where she knew a downed tree arched over the water.

      This was the place on the ranch she’d missed the most, her private spot where she’d come to think and dream and work things out in her head—the one place where she could be sure to be alone.

      The breeze ruffled the boughs overhead. The smell of flowers and grass chased away some of the insecurities and fears that had driven her here and she knew the sound of moving water would calm her. She pulled the horse to a stop after a while, preparing to get off and walk him down the steeper bank to water’s edge, but stopped when a glimpse of something big and brown down by the river caught her eye. Her first thought was that a bear had wandered down from the mountains.

      And then she realized it was a horse. Babylon sensed this, too, and made a little sound in his throat.

      Her heart made a startled leap and it was a measure of where her head was that the only thought that sprang to mind was that Roger Trill had somehow teleported himself from her apartment to the river. Babylon gave a contented whinny and the horse by the river responded by tossing his head and staring up the slope.

      She finally recognized Yukon, the dark gold gelding with the almost perfect white star on his forehead. Tyler’s horse. Peering more closely through the trees, she glimpsed a tall figure standing atop the log, gazing downstream, apparently unaware of her presence, probably because the noise of the rushing water under the downed trunk drowned out everything else.

      The sight of him standing where she’d so often sat for hours startled her. On the other hand, now was her chance. She had him cornered—he’d have to listen to her. She started to dismount and then paused.

      It felt like an ambush. She’d already pushed herself on him and he’d made his feelings about her clear. Could she really confront him while he stood literally out on a limb?

      What was he doing here? With a cattle drive starting in the morning, he didn’t have time for idleness. Undecided about what to do, she sat there for what seemed like hours, but when he took off his hat, sat down on his heels and stared into the water as though searching for answers, she knew she couldn’t encroach on his space and insist he pay attention to her. You had to ask for help, not demand it. She didn’t have the right or the nerve. Even fear hadn’t pushed her that far—yet.

      As she turned Babylon, she spotted another rider through the trees. A man had stopped his horse farther along and seemed to be sitting astride his mount. Distance and foliage hid his identity from her, but she was almost positive she didn’t know him. Dressed as he was in a Stetson and shades of browns and turned at that angle, he looked like any other cowboy.

      She was afraid to take a breath, and stilled Babylon by leaning forward and running a hand down his powerful, smooth neck. “Quiet, boy,” she whispered, and waited....

      The stranger’s attention stayed riveted on Tyler. In fact, he seemed totally oblivious to her presence and by the way he’d positioned himself, she got the distinct feeling he was doing his best to be invisible to anyone down at the river.

      Julie urged Babylon forward, turning to glance over her shoulder when they broke the trees, heart drumming against her ribs as she imagined the stranger coming after her.

      But he didn’t.

      Which raised the question: Did Tyler know he was being watched?

      * * *

      TYLER ARRIVED BACK at the lodge to find the guests, a couple of the wranglers and his mother seated around three of the dining room’s round oak tables.

      He made a quick head count and realized there was an additional person, who must have arrived while he was blowing off steam at the river. Figuring it must be the doctor they’d been expecting, Robert Marquis, he looked for the newcomer. The only one he could see was a woman of about thirty-five with dark hair and rhinestone glasses perched on a pert nose. She wore a blue neck bandanna and a red-and-white-checked shirt and was seated at a table with Red Sanders, the Boston lawyer, and John Smyth.

      Well, maybe they’d gotten the name wrong. Maybe it was Roberta Marquis.

      Tyler steered himself their direction and sat down at an empty place next to the woman. Across the room he saw his mother staring at him with a strained expression.

      What was that about?

      The easy conclusion to reach was that she’d seen Julie, although he imagined if that was true, she would have insisted she join them for dinner. Her glance seemed to stray to his left—was she staring at John Smyth?

      Each table sported large platters of ham and potatoes, bowls of salads, baskets of bread, pitchers of juice and a carafe each of cabernet and chardonnay wine. Everyone helped themselves à la family-style, which they’d found over the years fostered a feeling of camaraderie that would be cemented out on the trail.

      John Smyth nodded at Tyler as he scooped potatoes onto his plate.

      Tyler