Cowboy Tough (21 page)

Cat felt like all eyes were on her as she emerged from the Heifer House in the morning. She wasn't sure anyone had seen her and Mack sneak off to the barn the night before, but she suspected Emma and Abby had been watching like a pair of matchmaking hawks.

And no wonder. She and Mack were better than a soap opera, fighting one minute and making love the next. She'd never had such a tumultuous relationship.

And she'd never felt more alive.

She slowed self-consciously, realizing she'd put a schoolgirl skip in her step. Hank and Maddie were bustling around the chuckwagon, finishing up breakfast preparations. Maddie handed her a tin plate loaded with fluffy scrambled eggs, home fries with onions and peppers, and two slabs of heaven-scented bacon. Hank gave her a nod and a smile. Funny, she'd never noticed that he was actually kind of a nice-looking man. Normally he just blended into the woodwork, but this morning he seemed more normal somehow.

She settled down on a bench and stretched her legs out while she tucked into her breakfast. It was a typical Wyoming summer morning, with a limitless blue sky and a faint breeze carrying the scent of sage and bits of birdsong. There was nothing to spoil her happiness; even Dora's issues seemed like a lighter load now that she knew what caused them.

She'd settled on a plan of action. A single, serious talk wasn't going to work with Dora. She simply needed to remind her niece, gently and continually, of all the ways her mother had loved her, all the things she'd done to prove it. Dora would heal. Cat would make sure of that.

She glanced around the circle, running a quick roll call in her mind. The three seniors were present and accounted for. Charles slouched on the far side of the fire, staring into the flames and shoveling food into his mouth as if he was afraid someone would take it away. Watching the lizard tattoo writhe as he lifted his fork to his mouth, Cat wondered again if he was an ex-con.

Mack was nowhere to be seen. He was probably in the barn, getting the horses ready for today's expedition. Cat was a little disappointed he hadn't joined her for breakfast, but that was all right. There were no strings attached to what had happened between them. There couldn't be.

Dora and Viv weren't around either, but Dora was probably helping Mack in the barn. And since the two girls had become inseparable, maybe Viv was helping too—or, more likely, standing around looking cute and talking a mile a minute. Cat smiled, thinking of how the girls had hit it off. Maybe she'd suggest that Art Treks do a camp for teenagers. She could see herself leading a summer painting excursion to Europe for high school students. Or one to Wyoming.

Actually, she wasn't sure she needed Art Treks backing her up. There were probably concerns she hadn't thought of yet—insurance, waivers, legal mumbo-jumbo—but she was also sure she could arrange a trip herself. As a freelance workshop facilitator and tour guide, she'd be able to pick her own locations and write her own lessons. And she might make enough to quit Trainer and Crock.

Scraping up the last of her potatoes, she brushed a few crumbs from her shirt as she rose. She'd worn one of her thrift shop painting shirts today, a pink Etienne Aigner that came nearly to her knees. It was already decorated with a few wayward paint stains and hung open over a gray long-sleeved jersey she'd layered with a fitted navy MoMA T-shirt. It looked like the day would be a cool one, but riding could get warm and layers could easily be shed.

She thought about all the layers she'd shed the night before and shivered. She'd never given as much to a man as she'd given to Mack—not in all her life.

She was going to have to be more careful.

“I'm going to go check on the horses,” she said.

“Make sure you check that cowboy too,” Emma said. “Check him
out.
” She gave Cat an exaggerated wink.

“She already did that,” Abby said. “But if I was her, I'd do it again.”

Cat did her best to smile past her embarrassment and set out for the barn. It was a beautiful morning, with a faint breeze stroking the grass and the sky the impossible blue of a robin's egg. Three of the horses were already lined up at the hitching rail, and Mack was leading another from the barn.

“Need help?” she asked. “Or do you have all you need?”

“Nope, I'm fine.” He draped the horse's reins over the rail and swung an arm around her, pulling her close for a kiss. It felt good, like they were a couple. She decided to let herself enjoy that feeling for a while.

“Tired, though,” he said. “I was up all night keeping an eye on Trevor.”

She whirled. “
Trevor?
”

“Came back last night. Damn near crawled into bed with me. Said he was going to give us another chance. Generous of him, but he was drunk as a skunk.”

Cat stood at the rail, unsure what to say or even what to feel. She'd been worried about what would happen if Trevor went to the police. His return should be good news. But having him back made her uneasy.

“Don't worry,” Mack said. “He left early this morning. Stumbled out of here around dawn.”

She glanced around the barn. “Isn't Dora helping you this morning?”

“Not yet.” He shrugged. “You know how teenagers are about mornings.”

She felt a slight stab of worry—or was it defensiveness? “Dora's always been an early riser.”

“Well, maybe my daughter's giving her a crash course in teenage vices, like sleeping in till noon,” he said. “She was an early riser too, until she hit fourteen or so.”

Cat watched him load cases and supplies onto the patient Spanky. He looked like he had everything under control, but Dora had promised to help. Cat had come to terms with the idea that her niece didn't want to paint, but she wasn't going to let the girl snooze the day away.

“I'll get her.”

She jogged up the stairs to Viv's bedroom and rapped on the door.

No answer.

“Dora? Viv?”

Still no answer.

She cracked open the door and peered inside. The bed by the window was in total disarray, with covers flung over the footboard and a pillow on the floor. But the other bed was neatly made, with pillows plumped at the head and placed at artistic angles.

Cat couldn't picture Dora getting up and making the bed. She'd never angle the pillows with that kind of care—especially not when her friend had simply flung the covers off. Maybe she'd slept in the Heifer House.

She felt a twinge of unease. She should know, shouldn't she? She'd been thinking Ross wasn't taking proper care of Dora, but was she doing any better?

***

Mack had everything ready for today's trip. He just needed to gather up the artists, which was about as much fun as herding cats.

He was learning more than he wanted to know about the artistic temperament. Even Cat, who was organized and responsible, could be driven to slack-jawed distraction by a certain slant of light or raptured away by a gracefully gnarled tree. In some ways he enjoyed it. It made him see the land in a new way.

He sauntered over to the fire pit, checking the landscape for stragglers. Like yearling calves, artists had a tendency to wander off, but feeding time generally brought them home. Right now they were clustered around the chuckwagon, with Cat at the center of the group.

Cat. He couldn't help picturing her the night before, sprawled in the hay, naked in his arms. But as he approached the group, he realized something was wrong. Her voice was high-pitched and shrill.

“Has anyone seen her? Talked to her?” She swiveled to face his daughter. “Viv, she must have said something. Think!”

He couldn't help bristling at the way she was haranguing his daughter. But when he caught sight of Viv's worried face, he realized something more than an art lecture was going on.

“I don't know,” she said. “I mean, she's been having a rough time. Her mom, you know?”

A sympathetic murmur rose from the group.

“But she never said a word about going anywhere, I swear.” Viv crossed her heart with a pointed index finger in a gesture she'd used since childhood.

“Are you sure? You two have been so close.” Cat was glaring at Viv as if she could see straight to her soul. “You need to tell me the truth.”

Viv blinked fast. “I don't know anything. I really don't.”

His daughter looked so hurt Mack wanted to hug her—or hurt somebody. He pushed through the group to confront Cat. “She swore, okay? Viv doesn't lie.”

“I wasn't—I just…” Now it was Cat who was blinking. Women were falling apart all around him, all because his supposed assistant had gone off on her own without telling anyone. “Dora's missing. Just gone. I'm worried, Mack.”

“She probably stormed off on her own, like she did that first day,” he said. “She doesn't exactly toe the line, you know?”

“No. She took her clothes.” Cat's worried eyes looked enormous in her pale, drawn face. “We have to start a search.” She turned to Mack. “Where could she go from here?”

“Nowhere,” he said. “You know how far it is to town. And it's not like she could hitchhike. She'd have to get a ride.”

He hadn't thought Cat could get any paler, but she looked like she was going to faint.

“Trevor,” she said. “She must have gone with him.”

“She'd never do that,” Viv said. “She couldn't stand him.”

“Then he made her go somehow.” She grabbed Mack's arm. “We'll have to call the police.”

For a moment everything receded as if he was looking through the wrong end of a telescope. He remembered the stench of whiskey that had emanated from Trevor the night before, and the way his skin had crawled at the man's touch.

He didn't see how Trevor could have taken Dora. He'd heard the guy leave. But he'd thought Dora was in Viv's room, so once the guy left the house he'd assumed both girls were safe.

“I'll call the police,” he said. “We'll get the state cops to put out an APB.”

He tried to slow the whirling in his mind and think. Where would Trevor go? East of the ranch was a long stretch of featureless highway that led to Casper. West was the Wind River Canyon, and a trackless wilderness that was a frequent destination for desperadoes, runaways, and folks with dark secrets.

He headed for the house—and the phone—at a run.

Cat sat at the kitchen table, pinned to her chair by the sympathetic gaze of Madeleine Boyd. She was forcing down a cup of tea and wondering how long she'd have to sit there before she could start pacing again.

“The police will be here any minute,” Madeleine said. Hank, who was sitting beside her, nodded solemnly.

“Any minute?” Cat tilted her wrist to look at her watch for the fifth time in a minute. “It's been half an hour.” She'd given them a description of the Lexus and they'd promised to put out an APB, whatever that was. But she could tell the operator wasn't taking her seriously. There'd been a series of questions obviously designed to see if Dora was a runaway, and the woman had seemed skeptical of Cat's assurances that her niece would never set out on her own.

Fortunately, she hadn't had to mention that Dora's mother had just died, that she'd been having trouble in school, or that she'd been sulky and rebellious since she'd arrived. All those things pointed to a possible runaway, but she was sure Trevor had something to do with this. Dora wouldn't just run off.

If only she'd listened to Mack. If only she'd stopped fussing about her precious career and kept her niece safe. If anything happened to Dora because of her negligence, she'd never forgive herself.

“I can't just
sit
here.” Cat shook off Maddie's calming hand and shot to her feet. “I need to do something.”

“There's not much you can do. And the police will do everything they can.”

Cat knew she was right. The police
would
do everything they could—but it was precious little, and they wouldn't have to do it if Cat hadn't failed as a guardian. She ran through the events of last night in her head and felt like kicking herself. She'd left Dora and Viv to themselves. She'd told herself she was giving the girls a chance to bond, but the truth was she was relieved to shed her responsibilities and get some time alone with Mack.

She'd assumed the girls were having a pajama party, painting their nails, and playing truth or dare while she got busy with the ranch's handsome wrangler. But Viv said they'd turned in early, tired from their long day. Viv had slept in her room, and Dora had headed for the Heifer House.

That was the last anyone saw of her. Unlike the bed in Viv's room, her bunk was mussed as if it had been slept in, but she'd been up and out of bed before anyone saw her. Abby and Emma hadn't been lying when they said they slept like the dead, and Cat had slept the heavy, dreamless sleep of the sated.

The front door slammed. Cat leaped to her feet but slumped back into the chair when Viv ran into the room carrying a laptop.

“You have to see this.” She set the laptop on the table and pointed triumphantly to the screen.

Facebook. A photo of Dora beamed from the top. It was the photo Cat had found in the fire. If Dora didn't like the photo, why would she use it online?

Cat didn't use the service herself. She knew she should; it would be a good way to promote her work. But it cut into valuable painting time, so she'd never paid much attention to it. “This is Dora's page?”

“She has 534 friends,” Viv said, as if that proved something.

“Good for her,” Maddie said. “Popular.”

“There's, like, no way she can know all these people. And look.” Viv hit a button and scrolled through a list of contacts, with thumbnail pictures beside each name.

When she stopped scrolling, Cat's gaze immediately zoomed in on one picture in particular—and blanched. It looked like a typical high school yearbook photo from the nineties. The subject, a blond teenager with an angular jaw, faced the camera with his chin tilted slightly upward, giving him a supercilious air. The boy looked no more than eighteen, but there was no mistaking who it was.

She gasped. “That's Trevor Maines.”

“Yup. Or at least, it was.” Viv clicked on the picture to enlarge it.

“That has to be over ten years old,” Cat said. “He's practically a teenager.”

“I know.” Viv clicked back to Dora's page. “And look. Dora tells everything she's doing. Everywhere she's going. Including here.”

Cat grabbed the laptop with both hands and stared at the entries. Sure enough, Dora detailed her every move. From home in LA to the airport to Denver to the ranch. There were even links to the Art Treks site.

“He's posing as somebody younger online,” Viv said. “He's stalking Dora. And he followed her here.”

“Mack has to see this.” Cat scrolled down the page, noting some flirty status updates from Dora. There were lots of commenters, but she didn't see Trevor among them. Still, Viv was right. Trevor was “following” Dora. And not just in the virtual world.

Suddenly everything made sense. “The picture,” she said. “The burned picture. It was Trevor. He must have printed it off his computer, and he burned it so we wouldn't find it.”

Panic scrambled her brain. She needed Mack. He'd know what to do. He always knew when it came to Dora.

Shoving her chair back so hard it hit the wall, she ran past Viv and out the door.

***

Mack was stabling the last of the packhorses when Cat and Viv ran into the barn. He'd left Rembrandt saddled and ready, just in case they needed to mount a wilderness search. Normally, he could track just about anything, but between the Art Trekkers and the party the ranch was one big mass of footprints and tire tracks. And Trevor's head start made it unlikely Mack would be able to catch him on the highway. The state police were far better equipped to find the silver Lexus somewhere on the highways and back roads of Wyoming.

Ed, Abby, and Emma were gathered over by the hay bales, their faces drawn with worry.

“I just wish I could
do
something,” Ed kept muttering. Emma would pat his arm every time he said it. Mack suspected he said it a lot. With all Ed's high spirits, the limitations that came with age had to be frustrating.

“Mack, look.” Cat burst into the barn carrying the laptop he'd given Viv for Christmas. Her normally glowing skin was pasty, and her pretty eyes were red-rimmed with dark circles around them. Behind her, Viv looked equally stressed.

“Viv found Dora's Facebook page.”

“She was on it last night, and she left it open,” Viv said. “Guess who she's friends with.”

He took one look at the screen and felt his stomach bottom out. Trevor Maines.

“He's friends with Dora?”

Viv nodded.

“Maybe she's just done that since she got here,” he said.

“Nope.” Vivian set the laptop down on top of the cooler by the barn door. “See, if I click ‘see friendship' it says how long they've been friends. It's been over a year.”

“Can you find his page?”

Viv typed in “Trevor Maines” and found a page for something called “The Maines Event.” She clicked that one and brought up a page about fashion.

“He said he was a fashion photographer,” Cat said. “At least that much was true.”

“Yeah, but look at the models.” Mack pointed at a photo that had been added just two weeks earlier. It was a teenaged girl, clad skimpily in shorts and a torn T-shirt. She was giving the camera a pouty, sultry look that didn't suit her obvious youth.

Vivian clicked a link and brought up a blog, also called “The Maines Event.” It boasted more photos of young girls, introduced to the viewer with names like “Bambi” and “Lola.” The accompanying text gushed over their “waifish” and “childlike” qualities.

It made Mack's blood run cold. The photos were oddly clinical, the girls posing stiffly in come-hither poses against crushed velvet backdrops reminiscent of seventies-era yearbook photos.

He glanced up at Cat and swallowed the urge to say “I told you so.” It wasn't necessary. She looked devastated.

“Maybe he took her for revenge,” Viv said. “He was pretty pissed at you, Dad.”

“Then why doesn't he take his revenge on me?”

“Are you kidding? You flattened him.”

Mack stared at the screen, his stomach churning with anger and dread. Putting an arm around Cat's shoulders, he pulled her close, but she stiffened and moved away.

“We'll find her,” he said. “I swear we'll find her. And when we do—well, revenge works both ways.”