Montana Read Online Free PDF

of considerable size. The man lifted his hat and she looked up into honed features moving fast beyond middle age, skin shrinking tight across bone, prominence of nose casting shadows across hollows of eye and cheek, an austere landscape made more so in contrast to a lavish sweep of silvering hair.
    “Verle Duncan,” he introduced himself. “Are you all right?”
    The kindness in his voice very nearly undid her fragile control. “Mary Alice.” It was all she could say.
    “Mary Alice Carr?” He sat the hat back on his head. “You must be her friend who’s coming for the summer.”
    Lola slammed a hand against the wheel. “Stop talking. She’s . . .” Her throat closed against the word.
    “She’s what?”
    “She’s . . .” Lola tried again.
    “Is she sick? Hurt? Did she fall off that horse?”
    Lola, mute, shook her head.
    He crouched beside the car. “There now. I’m going to get some things and then I’m going to go back up there with you and figure out what’s going on. You sit tight.” He went to the horse and she heard the creak and flap of leather, something opening and closing. He returned with a flashlight and opened her door and took her arm and escorted her around to the passenger side. “I’ll drive,” he said, his voice light and even. “The way you handle this car, I think that’s better.”
    “Your horse.” It poked a hoof at the ground, head down, reins dragging.
    “Don’t worry about him. He’s a cow horse. He’ll stay wherever I leave him.”
    “A cow horse?” she said. Then, to forestall any explanation: “Never mind. Hurry.”
    He drove quickly, competently, back to Mary Alice’s, pulling up beside the red truck. The darkness was complete. Lola jumped out as he turned off the engine, feeling for the slope of earth with her feet, heading uphill. She couldn’t see the horse in its corral but heard its hooves thudding against the dirt. Verle caught up with her and put his hands on her shoulders and turned her toward the cabin.
    “No. Up there.” She pointed.
    “You stay here.” He raised the flashlight. His steps receded. It was getting cold. The cabin was a solid black square against the unreliable shadows of trees. She walked to it and sat on the porch steps, near a substantial stack of split wood, and blew one experimental breath after another and tried to think about nothing other than the small, perfect clouds condensing and dissolving before her. The dog yipped, once. There was no other noise. Even the horse ceased its restless perambulation. Some while later, Verle came back down the hill, the dog tucked under one arm, treading the blinding carpet laid down by the flashlight. He paused in front of Lola, and shone the light to one side. She blinked. They were in the aftermath. She knew this part. She started talking in mid-thought.
    “The way she looks, it was probably your basic M-16,” she said. “Given where he got her—right in the face like that, but from far away—he knew what he was doing. He could have used something smaller. He didn’t need all that firepower.”
    The light bobbed, pale brushstrokes crisscrossing her face. “We don’t use those much around here,” he said. “Maybe a .30-06 for elk. Shotgun for geese or pheasant.”
    “Who would do this? Why?”
    The light jumped again. “We need to call the sheriff. And we need to get you back to town. But first, we should take care of these animals. A few more minutes isn’t going to make any difference now. I’m sorry. But that’s how it is. They were precious to your friend.” He thrust the dog at Lola. “He’ll want food, maybe, water for sure. Take him inside and give him some, but not too much. If he’s been up there with her awhile, he’ll be dehydrated. I’ll deal with the horse.”
    She grabbed the dog, all hair and eyes and scrabbling toenails, and held him away from her. He torqued, nearly throwing her off balance. She pulled him tight against her chest.
    “Go on now,”