Aftermath
Maria had quite the tale to tell Jessie and Rob over breakfast preparations on Monday morning. Neither of the couple had heard about the shed fire, and they were alarmed.
“I can’t imagine what Tim was doing that whole time,” Maria said. “He never answered his phone, nobody knew where he went, and I haven’t heard from him since. Has anybody seen him?”
Worried creases appeared in Jessie’s brow. “Maybe something’s happened to him,” she said. “I’ve known Tim quite a while, and he doesn’t leave the ranch much. It’s top importance for him.”
“Now what would have happened to him?” Rob asked. “I’m sure he’s all right. He’s a smart boy. He’s not gonna put himself in danger or anything.”
Jessie shook her head. “I still think it isn’t like him to disappear like that.”
Breakfast was ready, and Maria took her place at the window with an enormous pan of eggs and chorizo sausage while Rob went out and hit the triangle.
Cowboys began streaming in. And there was Tim, his blond head above the rest, looking like he’d been around all the time and not mysteriously missing all day yesterday. Maria would have called to him, but she hated attracting attention. She just had to wait while he came through the line.
“Tim!” she hissed, the moment he came into speaking distance. “Where were you all day yesterday? Did you hear about the fire and the shed?”
His face wore a strange expression. “I heard about it. I went down and checked out the shed. I wish I’d seen the guy.”
“A bunch of people tried to get hold of you all evening, and you didn’t answer your phone!”
He ran a hand through his hair. “I realized late last night it had been on silent ever since Mass. I was so busy I hadn’t checked it.”
“Oh,” Maria said. “Well, it would be good if you remembered to keep it on. And where were you, anyway? Nobody knew!”
“Some urgent business came up,” Tim said. “I’m sorry. I wanted to teach you riding. I didn’t intend to flake on you.”
“Can you guys hang out later?” Danny, behind Tim in line, elbowed him in the ribs with a grin. “I’m wasting away.”
“Wasting away?” Will, behind Danny, snickered loudly. “You?”
Right, Maria was supposed to be serving breakfast. She felt her face getting red. It must be so obvious that she liked Tim. But if he would communicate with her normally, she wouldn’t be forced to confront him in the breakfast line.
“Whoops, sorry,” Tim told Danny. “See you later, Maria.”
He held her gaze, nodded, and went on. The breakfast line continued. Maria served eggs extra fast to make up.
“Don’t fret about Tim,” Jessie said, next to her. “He’s a man of his word. If he says he didn’t mean to flake on you, he had a good reason. I’m just glad he’s all right.”
“I want to think that,” Maria said, low. “But he keeps being gone without explanation. Even Elijah, the top hand, doesn’t know where he’s going. What’s the matter with him? Is he sneaking off to do something he shouldn’t be doing?”
“I’m sure he isn’t.” Jessie served hash browns placidly. “I’m a good judge of character, and I think he’s a fine young man.”
“Well, I just don’t know lately,” Maria said. “I don’t know.”
The meal rush was slowing down. Maria could hear the cowboys loudly talking about the shed fire and the Montana Rider.
It sounded like everybody knew about the Rider now, but from what Maria overheard, none of the hands knew who he was.
Was Tim the only person on the ranch privy to that information?
§
That evening, when Maria got out of work, Grandma Austin announced that the whole family, including Savannah, and many of the ranch hands, were invited to a party at Scarlett’s family’s ranch. Maria, she pointedly said, was included.
This was the time for Maria to stand up for her own needs. “Grandma Austin,” she said, “I’m sorry, but I’m exhausted. I was up late last night after the shed fire and talking to the police, and I have a headache. I’m not feeling good enough to go.”
She held her breath waiting for the reply. She’d seen how Grandma Austin snapped at her family members when they disagreed with her.
“All right,” Grandma Austin said. Her voice was crabby, but not more so than usual. She must not mind that much. “Well, I’m not trying to drag you. I’ll give your excuses to the family. Get rest and drink water.”
So Maria was left by herself in the large house.
It was the first time since coming to the ranch that she’d been home alone, and it was an odd feeling.
She kept expecting something to pop out from a dark room or corner.
Well, she’d better make the most of her free time.
She made herself a cup of peach tea (that would help the headache), called Dad and Grandma (who were alarmed by her tale of the shed fire), and settled down with a book (The Paradise Project, which she hadn’t finished the other day).
Maria was deep in the book, sitting in a swivel chair in the family room, when she heard a knock. She stiffened. Who could that be with the family and a lot of the ranch hands gone? Maybe she should ignore it. But the knock came again.
The door had a peep hole, didn’t it? Maria crept downstairs, still holding the book, and went to the side door where she thought she had heard the knock. Peering out, she saw someone wearing black. What was the Montana Rider doing here?
Maria pulled the door open. “Hi,” she started to say, but stopped, as if struck by lightning. The Rider wasn’t okay. He was holding one arm with the other arm, as though it were badly hurt, and he was bleeding through his shirt, up near the shoulder.
“Call the police,” he said. “And Russell. Some guys tried to set the bunkhouse on fire.”
He was swaying as he stood. He must be losing a lot of blood. Had he been shot?
“I’ll call 911,” Maria said. “You can’t stand there. You look like you’re going to fall over. Come in, come in.” She beckoned to him, her motions suddenly frantic. This was a medical emergency, and she didn’t know what to do.
The Rider staggered into the house. His face was a grayish hue. “Shot in the shoulder,” he said. “Fell off my horse. I think my arm’s broken.”
“Oh my goodness.” Panic coursed through Maria. “Lie down on the couch. I’m gonna call for a doctor. Oh my goodness, you’re really bleeding!”
She didn’t know whether she should help him steady himself or not, for fear of hurting his arm, so she followed him into the living room, fluttering around him uselessly.
Awkwardly, almost collapsing, he slung himself onto the couch, gripping his injured arm with the other arm.
His hat fell off and rolled away, revealing blond hair.
His mask still covered the top half of his face.
“Call 911,” he said, and his head slumped against the couch pillows.
Maria dialed 911, hardly daring to take her eyes off him. He was still bleeding. She should put pressure on the wound. Maybe he had fainted from loss of blood. Maria hit the speaker button on her phone and pressed down on the Rider’s bleeding shoulder.
Up close, he seemed strangely familiar. Wait a minute. The blond hair. The height. The jawline. Maria’s own jaw dropped.
How on earth had she not noticed? Maybe because he had usually appeared in the dark or far away. Maybe because she hadn’t been thinking of it. But she knew, without having to take the mask off, who the Montana Rider really was.
“Tim,” Maria burst out. “You’re the Rider.”
He stirred, opening his eyes. “Maria.” His voice was labored. “I didn’t want you to find out like this.”
That’s why the Montana Rider always knew what was going on with Tim. That’s why Tim was so secretive all the time. He was pretending to be two different people.
Of course he was. Maria’s hands were shaking, even as she applied pressure to Tim’s wound. Her pulse was going a mile a minute. How had she not figured that out before? She had been so stupid. But how could he lie to her like that? How could he—
Someone picked up the phone. It was the 911 dispatcher. Maria stumbled through explaining that the ranch foreman had been shot and was injured falling from his horse. Somebody had tried to set fire to the bunkhouse. They needed police and an ambulance, right away.
Maria held firmly onto Tim’s shoulder, his blood seeping between her fingers. He looked bad. Somebody had better get there soon. Maria didn’t know enough first aid to deal with this.
Tim spoke, with obvious struggle. “Hide the mask. Don’t want—anybody else—to know.”
Leaving one hand clamped over the shoulder wound, Maria fumbled with the mask, which was tightly fastened. She managed to work it loose and over his head. Under the mask, Tim looked even paler, his blue eyes dark in contrast. “Thanks.”
Maria flung the mask under the couch. There were so many things she wanted to say, but none of them were the kind of thing you said to someone seriously injured. How could Tim have tricked her like that? How could he have pretended to be two different people?
And how had she not seen through his disguise?
Tim and the Rider had never been in the same place at the same time.
They’d talked about each other, but always in a cryptic way.
Yet they always seemed to know everything about the other.
Had Maria really been that dumb? Had Tim been laughing at her this whole time, because she hadn’t figured out his secret?
Maria had a hard time believing Tim was that cruel.
But even if he hadn’t been laughing at her, there was no denying he hadn’t trusted her with his secret.
He had deceived her, the thing she hated the most. Seth had deceived her with shallow feelings.
She had been afraid to open up to Tim for fear that would happen again, and now it had.
He hadn’t invented the Montana Rider to trick her—she had evidence from Savannah that the Montana Rider had predated her coming to the ranch—but he had acted like he liked her, and he still hadn’t told her the truth about anything.