“Okay,” she whispered. “Just keep calm. There’s a way out. You just have to find it.” Jennie took several deep breaths and willed the fear to subside. She’d been in worse situations.
The oxygen revived her and cleared her mind. She sat on a stump and looked up at the sliver of light that lined the cloud. It seemed to promise hope and a way out. Jennie prayed for wisdom and courage. “And God,” she added. “If you could spare a guardian angel, I could use one about now.”
The leaves rustled again. For a moment she blamed it on the wind but felt no breeze against her skin. She swallowed hard. There’s no need to panic, McGrady. It could be anything. An owl, a squirrel, a raccoon … Jennie stopped her imagination from coming up with anything bigger.
The moon peeked out from behind the cloud. She tried to remember where it had been earlier, but couldn’t. Jennie shivered and buttoned up her denim jacket, wishing she’d grabbed a sweatshirt.
She jumped up and marched in a circle, hoping the movement would warm her. Jennie thought about lying down and trying to sleep. Morning would bring the sun and she could use it as a guide. No, she did not want to spend the night in these woods. It was too cold and there were wild animals—mountain lions and bears. There had to be another option. Heading northeast would take her to the east fork of the Bitterroot River. “The river!” Jennie stopped pacing. “It flows right through the ranch. If I can find it, I can follow it back.” But how? She had no idea which direction she should go.
Leaves rustled again.
“Be still, my child.” A deep masculine voice resonated through the forest. “Listen to the earth.”
Jennie sucked in a wild breath and whipped around. “Who’s there?” She saw no one and heard only the sounds of the trees. There’s got to be an explanation, Jennie told herself. Maybe it was God, or that angel you asked for. Or maybe it was just your imagination.
Jennie pressed back against a tree and willed her racing heart to slow down. Be still, the voice had said. She remembered a story she’d heard in Sunday school about a prophet, Elijah. He’d been in the wilderness. God had told him to be still. Was God sending her the same message?
Listen to the earth. Jennie sat on the stump again and tried to clear her mind of everything except the sounds around her.
Being from the Northwest, Jennie knew the sound of water rushing over rocks. She’d even fallen over a waterfall once. If she could hear the river and follow the sound, maybe …
Somewhere in the distance an owl hooted. She concentrated harder and thought she could hear a steady shushing sound. Leaves in the wind? Or dancing waters? She couldn’t be sure.
Listen to the earth. Of course. Jennie scrunched down on the forest floor. She’d seen movies where Indian guides would press their ears to the ground in order to hear the sound of horses’ hooves. They could even tell what direction the riders were coming from.
Jennie put a hand over her left ear and pressed her right to the ground. “I can hear it,” she said after a few minutes. Excitement bubbled like a spring inside her. “I can really hear the water.”
She walked in a widening circle, stopping to listen at intervals to determine which direction she should go. She paused where she heard the rushing sound the loudest, then set out to find the river she hoped would take her back to the ranch. Jennie prayed she was heading toward the right river and in the right direction.
As she walked, the sound of the water grew stronger. After about ten minutes, the forest gave way to a pasture and the distant lights told her she wasn’t far from the highway. She stopped a moment at the edge of the forest and sat on a fallen log to rest. She could see the river now. Moonbeams turned the swirling waters from gray to silver, giving it a magical look. “Thank you,” she called in case the owner of the voice was listening.
“You’re welcome.”
Jennie stopped and whipped around, half expecting to see an angel. But no one was there. Had she really heard the voice again? Had it been an angel? Or God—or merely the wind?
A cool breeze lifted the loosened tendrils of hair from Jennie’s cheeks. With the moon still lighting her way, she broke into a run.
By the time Jennie reached the house, it had started to rain. She shuddered, partly from the cold and partly from the knowledge that if she hadn’t listened to the voice, she’d still be wandering around out there.
Jennie climbed up the tree and onto the roof near Heather’s bedroom window. She tried to push it up. When it wouldn’t budge, she tapped on the glass. After several minutes Heather peered out, a confused expression on her face. Finally she unlatched the window and slid it open. “What are you doing out there?” she whispered.
“As if you didn’t know. Why did you leave me alone in the woods?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t even know you went out.” Heather straightened. “You followed me?”
“I … I was worried about you.”
“You didn’t need to be. I can take care of myself.”
“So I see.” Jennie had more questions for Heather, such as: Why did you lock the window? Didn’t you think I’d make it back? Did you lose me out there on purpose? But Jennie didn’t ask them. Instead she changed into her nightgown and crawled into bed.
Sleep didn’t come easily. Dangerous. The word wove itself over, around, and through recent memories of being lost in the woods and being left at the airport. Marty and his dad. The photographer. The poster of Hazen and Heather. The explosion. Together they wove a dark and haunting tapestry. Did Heather know more than she was letting on? She wanted to go back to New York, but surely not badly enough to … No. Heather would never do anything to hurt her father—or would she?
The twangy sounds of country music drifted into Jennie’s foggy brain, then stopped. She opened one eye expecting to see the large red numbers of her alarm announcing the time. It wasn’t there. Neither was her nightstand. Then she remembered. She rubbed her eyes and sat up. A light went on in the walk-in closet. Outside, the sky glowed with the first blush of dawn. The neon green hands on Heather’s clock radio read five-thirty. Was her cousin sneaking out again?
A few minutes later, Heather snapped off the closet light and emerged wearing a pink T-shirt imprinted with a Dancing Waters logo and black jeans. “Sorry if I woke you. I tried to be quiet.”
“It’s okay. What are you doing up so early?”
Heather flipped on the overhead light. “I ask myself that every morning. You’d better get used to it. We start work between six and six-thirty.” Heather covered her shirt with a fringed black suede jacket, then pulled on her leather boots.
Jennie moaned. “So what kind of work do you do?”
“Different things. Today I’m taking a group of executives on a one-day trail ride.” Heather ran a brush through her hair, separated it into three strands, and began braiding.
“Sounds like fun. Maybe I could go along sometime.”
“Maybe.” Heather secured the long braid with a band, then picked up a barrette and attached it in the back where the braid began. From it hung a white feather with a pink tip and a dream catcher.
Jennie had noticed about a dozen or so feathered clips in various colors hanging in the closet the night before. “You have a lot of those.”
“Feel free to wear one if you want. I like them. Eric says they …” Heather’s gaze met Jennie’s in the mirror. “Don’t ask.” She said goodbye and left.
Jennie thought about going back to sleep, but her mind was already up and running, so she joined it. Wrapping her cast in plastic to keep it dry, she showered, then dressed, and hurriedly brushed through her hair. After making three attempts to pull her thick mane into a ponytail, she gave up. The cast made some things impossible. Maybe she could ask Maggie to put her hair up later. She tossed the brush on the dresser and headed downstairs.
Heather pushed her chair back just as Jennie sat down. “Don’t worry, Mom. I can handle it. Besides, you know Papa will be out there. Sometimes I think he’s more spirit than human the way he looks out for us. I’ll be back around five.”
More spirit than human? Jennie thought about the voice she’d heard the night before.
“Pass the syrup, please.” Amber stuck her hand toward Maggie and accepted the bottle.
“Did you sleep well, Jennie?” Maggie asked.
“I had a little trouble at first, but …” She glanced at Heather who shot her a don’t-tell warning before heading out the door. “I did okay.”
Jennie speared a slice of French toast and grabbed a couple pieces of bacon off the tray as Maggie passed it to her. “Who was Heather talking about?”
“Our grandfather, Joseph.” Amber supplied the information. “Papa knows everything. But he isn’t the spirit Heather was talking about. She thinks it is, but it’s really White Cloud—our great-grandfather. He died in 1972 but his spirit …”
“Amber,” Maggie rested a hand on Amber’s arm. “What did I tell you about repeating those stories?” She winked at Jennie. “I don’t know where she gets some of these ideas. She has such a vivid imagination. I can assure you, we have no ghosts, and Joseph is very human and very normal. You’ll meet him soon.”
Amber bounced up and down. “I’ll take you to his house. Can I, Mom?”
“Not today. Maybe tomorrow. I need Jennie to work today.” She gave Jennie an apologetic look. “That is, if you’re up to it.”
“Sure. Do you want me to help in the dining room again?”
Maggie picked up her coffee and scanned the clipboard lying beside her plate. “I’ve got a full crew in the kitchen. But I could use some help in maid service. Two of my girls called in sick. If it’s okay with you, I’ll rotate you around to different jobs. It will give you a chance to familiarize yourself with the ranch and to meet the staff.”
“That sounds great.” Even though Maggie hadn’t said so, Jennie got the impression her aunt wanted her to keep an eye out for signs of trouble. Did she suspect disloyalty among staff members?
The back door opened and closed. Maggie glanced toward the kitchen. “That must be Bob.” Turning to Jennie she explained, “Bob Lopez is the ranch manager—been here since Jeff was a little boy.”
“Mornin’, Maggie.” Bob Lopez plucked off his beige cowboy hat and set it on the credenza, then sauntered toward them. He lowered his short, thick body onto the vacant chair between Amber and Maggie and ruffled Amber’s hair with a large, calloused hand. “How’s my little leprechaun?”
Amber giggled. “I’m not a leprechaun.”
He reached for the carafe of coffee and poured himself a cup. “Then you must be my lucky charm.” His dark brown eyes twinkled as he spoke, then clouded when he turned back to Maggie.
“Uh oh, I know that look,” Maggie said. “More trouble?”
“’Fraid so.” He took a tentative sip of the hot brew. “Danielson called this morning. Somebody cut the fencing again. Says there’s about a dozen head of our buffalo in with his prize steers. He’s afraid they’ll contaminate his herd.”
“Our buffalo are clean. Did you tell him that?”
“Yep. He’s still threatening to sue.”
Maggie slapped her cup down on the table. Coffee slopped out onto the bright floral tablecloth. She didn’t bother mopping it up. “I’ll bet anything he cut the wire himself.” She looked at Jennie. “Another in a long string of irritations. They’re all aimed at forcing us to sell.”
“This your niece?” Lopez asked.
“Oh … ah … yes.” Maggie paused for introductions, then added, “Jennie’ll be helping out wherever we need her.”
Lopez leaned back in the chair and winked at Jennie. “I could use another hand repairing that fence.”
Maggie shook her head. “Not yet. I’m not sure Jennie’s even ridden a horse.”
“Only on the merry-go-round,” Jennie admitted, “but I’d love to try. I’ve always wanted to ride.” Along with mysteries, some of Jennie’s favorite books were about horses. Lately she’d been reading a series by Lauraine Snelling. If imagination counted, she’d ridden at least a hundred times.
“I love your enthusiasm, Jennie, and we’ll make sure you get your share of riding, but it’s not safe right now. We’ve had some poachers and …” She hesitated and closed her eyes.
“Maggie’s right. I wasn’t thinking. We’ll be working close to where the truck exploded.”
“Bob, please. Jennie doesn’t need to hear this.” Maggie’s hands shook as she grasped the table and pushed herself back. “Take a couple of the men out to help you. And be careful.”
“Yes’m.” Lopez took a gulp of his coffee and retrieved his hat.
“Oh, and, Bob—” Maggie stopped him on her way to put dishes in the sink. She’d lowered her voice, but Jennie overheard. “I know Jeff would disagree, but maybe you’d better start carrying your rifles out there—just in case.”