Montoya grunted. "So you decided to go flounder in the snowdrifts. Then what?"

"We went up the windswept side of the ridge," Dan said. "It was an easy walk."

"Beautiful," Carly said softly, then remembered what had happened and shivered. "For a while."

Dan thought about mentioning that he'd sensed he was being watched several times. And then he thought about Montoya's reaction to a touchy-feely thing like sensing.

"As soon as we got to the top of the ridge," Dan said evenly, "I was spun around and knocked down the other side by a bullet. I managed to yank Carly with me so she wasn't skylined while the bastard took another shot at her."

"So you're assuming it wasn't an accident," Montoya said, giving Dan a black stare.

"Yeah," Dan drawled. "That's what I'm assuming. What with all the other attacks on Carly, it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what the agenda was."

"Keep talking."

"Somebody wants Carly out of town," he said succinctly.

"Maybe. And maybe somebody was poaching cats or bears for the Chinese trade and bagged a human by mistake."

Dan felt Carly tense beneath his hand. He squeezed gently, hoping she'd keep her temper.

"It's possible, I suppose," Dan said, his voice neutral. "You have a lot of poaching up at the Quintrell ranch?"

"It happens," Montoya said. "What did you do after you took a header down the ridge?"

"We lay there and listened to see if the 'poacher' was going to finish what he'd started."

"What were you going to do, throw snowballs at him?" the sheriff asked.

"I'm licensed to carry. You know because you checked."

Montoya grunted. He didn't know what it was about Dan that had always pissed him off, but it sure did. "Yeah, yeah. Did the guy come after you or not?"

"No. I waited until it became more dangerous to stay than to go," Dan said.

"What does that mean?"

"We weren't dressed for a night in the snow."

The sheriff looked at Dan's calm face and unflinching eyes and sighed. Whatever else he could say about la bruja's son, Dan wasn't a coward or a fool. It took cojones to lie out in the snow waiting for someone to put another bullet in you.

"Did he make another try for you?" Montoya asked, curious despite his prejudice.

"I gave him as little chance as possible, but no, there weren't any more shots."

"Well, that sounds like a poacher to me," Montoya said. "He made a mistake and ran like hell. What did folks at the ranch say?"

"We didn't stop. We drove right to town."

That surprised the sheriff. "No matter how you caught that bullet, it must have hurt like a bitch in heat. Why didn't you stay at the ranch until an EMT or a deputy could help you?"

"Most of the bad things that have happened to Carly have happened at the ranch," Dan said.

Montoya's eyes narrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what I said. Would you like me to repeat it?"

The sheriff thought about giving Dan an attitude adjustment, then decided it was more trouble than it was worth. Besides, the ER had gotten so quiet you could hear yourself breathe, which meant that everyone was eavesdropping.

"I got it the first time," Montoya said. "Anything else?"

Carly thought about where Dan had seen signs that a car had parked at the base of Castillo Ridge and someone had gone hiking up the hill. She waited for him to tell the sheriff.

"Not that I can think of," Dan said.

"If you remember anything else, call."

"Will do."

Carly watched the sheriff stuff the notebook in his hip pocket and stride through the ER. She leaned very close to Dan.

"Why didn't you tell him about the place where that car had parked?" she murmured against his ear.

He nuzzled against her neck and said softly, "Because I didn't want some clubfooted deputy messing up the sign before I get back there." He looked at his watch. "C'mon, if we hurry, we can get some sleep before dawn."

"Dawn?"

"Great time for tracking. Or backtracking."

"Dawn."

Carly closed her eyes, sighed, and wondered if she'd ever get a whole night's sleep again.

Chapter 52

CASTILLO RIDGE

DAWN SATURDAY

DAN PARKED HIS TRUCK JUST BEYOND THE PLACE WHERE ANOTHER VEHICLE HAD parked last night.

Carly shook herself awake and reached for the door handle. "I hope we don't need snowshoes. I haven't used them since I was a kid."

"You don't forget how. It's like-"

"Riding a bike," she finished. "And all strange white meat tastes like chicken."

Dan thought of some of the things he'd eaten. "Don't you believe it. Some of it tastes like what it is-disgusting. Stay here where it's warm while I check out the tire tracks."

"Disgusting? What was it?"

"Do you really want to know?"

She thought about it. "No."

"Good choice."

Dan got out, closed the truck door, and zipped up his parka. The sky was overcast and smelled of snow. The air felt almost warm after the stark, clear-sky iciness of last night. Swirls and veils of snow drifted out of the dawn. The air was hushed, the silence thick with falling snow.

As he'd feared, the vehicle had parked on top of the tracks left from the time when Dan and his father had hiked up the back side of Castillo Ridge to watch a funeral they hadn't been invited to. Though six inches of snow had fallen between the funeral and sunset last night, it was nearly impossible to find any pure tread marks. Obviously more than one car had used the turnout since the funeral. Tire tracks crisscrossed every which way.

He looked from the turnout to the ridge rising dark and silver with the dawn. As he'd expected, the "poacher" had used the trail that Dan and his father had already broken to the top of the ridge. Unfortunately, some sightseers and snow-sledders had done the same. The informal trail was trampled flat. Nothing to learn from it.

He went back to the truck.

"Well?" Carly asked.

"More than two vehicles have parked here the past week. More than two parties have gone up the ridge."

"Is that unusual?"

"Not really. The locals have been playing in the snow here for decades. When wind sweeps the snow off of other, more accessible places, there's always the back side of Castillo Ridge for an outing."

"So there's nothing we can find from tracks?"

"Pretty much. I'm going to take a look anyway. I might get lucky and come up with a bullet."

"Shouldn't we let the sheriff do that?"

"If he doesn't get out here in the next few hours, there won't be anything to see."

Carly got out of the car and felt the tender bite of snowflakes. Then she thought about the chance of an overworked, skeptical sheriff bucking a snowstorm for a look-around at the site of what he was sure was an accidental and therefore unsolvable shooting.

"No harm, no foul?" she asked sardonically.

"Yeah. If the bastard had killed me, then we might see some action. As it is…" Dan shrugged. "I can't say as I blame Montoya."

"I do."

Dan pulled her close, and melted the snowflakes on her lips with a kiss. "Have I mentioned how much I like you, Carolina May?"

"Same back," she said. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at the bandage on his forehead. So close. So damn close. Why do we always think

there's more time? She kissed the rough, cool line of his jaw. "Next time don't let me sleep in. Wake me up early enough to play."

He turned his head, caught her mouth beneath his, and gave her the kiss he'd wanted to give her before dawn. When he finally lifted his mouth, her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were smoky gold.

"It's a deal," he said. "And if I don't let go of you real soon, we're going to be rolling around in the snow."