Kitabı oku: «Alaskan Fantasy», sayfa 3

Chapter Three

If Sam thought it would have done any good, he’d have argued until he was blue. But from what he’d learned from Paul, Kat was a stubborn woman. When she settled on an idea, she held on to it like a pit bull in a dogfight. If he hadn’t been worried about her, he might have appreciated her confidence and strong will.

Luck of the draw had Sam leaving as number twenty-seven at the Wasilla start point behind Paul’s twenty-three. Or should he say Kat’s twenty-three? The officials had approved the replacement at the last minute, knowing her past racing history.

Sam had barely spoken to Paul and Kat the past two days. He felt as if Paul had coerced her into following Sam to keep him safe. He didn’t like the idea of being assigned a babysitter to dog his every step on the trail. He didn’t need anybody to watch his back.

He packed his rifle and handgun in the three hundred pounds of gear and equipment on the sled. Many mushers brought weapons in the event a cranky moose decided to attack. If animal or human tried something funny during the race, Sam was prepared.

Paul insisted Kat was only taking over his position in the competition because his dogs deserved a chance to win. Sam knew better. Paul was more worried about the sabotage than his dogs making a good show.

As the dogs dipped down into a ravine and back up to climb the slight rise before Knik, Sam braced himself for the onslaught. Well-wishers lined the path to see family and friends off at the last stop before they headed into the wilderness.

A slew of people milled about at the checkpoint with a collection of trucks scattered across the snow.

“Whoa!” Sam called out to his team. He eased down on the brake, digging the snow hook into the hard-packed snow as he pulled to a stop next to Vic’s old pickup.

Paul sat inside, with the door open, his injured foot wrapped in a blanket and secured with duct tape.

With her coat collar pulled up around her cheeks, Tazer stood beside the truck, a soft gray headband protecting her ears from the bitter wind, her nose bright pink.

Working with the veterinarian, Vic walked the line of dogs, scanning microchips, checking paws, booties and necklines until they reached the sled.

“You’re good to go.” The vet checked off the paperwork and nodded before heading off to the next arrival.

Sam flexed his gloved hands, tugged his wool scarf down below his chin and strode over to the truck.

“Kat pulled through ten minutes ago.” Paul reached out a hand and shook Sam’s. “She said she’d meet you at Yentna, if you can catch her. All I can say is good luck, buddy. She’s a tough competitor. And my team knows her and vice versa.”

Sam nodded, relieved Kat planned to compete rather than play nursemaid to him. Although he’d kept his eyes open for signs of her powder-blue jacket and pants.

A large white van armed with satellite dishes, antennas and the bright red logo of the local Anchorage television station stood to one side. A cameraman and female reporter watched for the next contestant.

A sled pulled in behind Sam and, as if on cue, the reporter pushed the hair out of her face and the scarf away from her mouth before turning to the cameraman.

“What’s all that about?” Sam asked.

“Looks like Al Fendley’s team.” Vic shook his head. “Never fails, he manages to get the best press for the race.”

Paul studied the man in the showy yellow parka, smiling broadly and stepping from the runners of his sled like a movie actor on set. “’Course, it doesn’t hurt to get free publicity for your business.”

The name sounded familiar, but Sam couldn’t place it. “What does he do?”

“He and his brother, Warren, run a summer lodge and dogsled training camp outside of Denali Park. They also have a hunting-outfitter business in the interior.” Vic brushed the snow off his gloves. “Al got a name for himself when he won the race two years ago.”

Paul glanced across at Al. “I hear one of the other mushers fell out of the race when his dogs got sick that year.”

“Tough break,” Sam said. “It’s a long race. I can imagine the dogs take a beating over the eleven hundred miles.”

“Not when you’re neck in neck, only a day out from the finish line and your brother is one of the folks helping with the food drops.” Vic’s gaze collided with Paul’s. “Rumor had it the dogs were slipped a mild poison at one of the checkpoints. The Fendley boys take winning seriously.”

After a narrow-eyed glance at Al, Paul turned his attention to Sam. “Take care out there. You’re a long way from civilization if anything happens.”

Sam knew the dangers of the Iditarod. “I’d better get going.”

“Oh, before you go.” Tazer stepped up to Sam. “Kat wanted me to give you something.”

His hand went out automatically and jerked back when she tried to place a radio and headset into his gloved palm. “What the hell is it?”

“A two-way radio and voice-activated mic. You two can keep in touch in case you have trouble on the trail.”

“No way.” He recognized the standard-issue radio from his days working for the S.O.S. He’d given up that life long ago and he didn’t intend to go back. Still, he shouldn’t have reacted so strongly. Sam’s lips pressed into a tight line. “I’m not interested.”

“In the radio or Kat?”

He glared at the woman. “Either.”

“Please, Sam,” Paul said from his position on the seat of the truck. “I usually go along on the race when Kat’s out there. I’d feel better knowing she had you looking out for her.”

“If this is your way of putting Kat on me for protection, no deal.” Sam shook his head. “I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can take care of yourself,” Paul said. “What I’m worried about is that it could have been either me or you they were after. If it’s someone wanting to win the race at all costs, any one of the teams and mushers could be in trouble. I’d feel better knowing you were looking after my little sister.”

The little-sister part hit Sam square in the gut. If he’d said Kat, the government agent, Sam might have told him which cliff to jump off. But Kat, the little sister, was another story altogether. Sam had a little sister back in Virginia. A grown-up little sister with a life of her own working as a legislative assistant to a congressman. If someone posed a threat to his only family left, he’d be equally concerned. “You play dirty, Jenkins.”

Without batting an eyelash, Paul grinned. “Damn right I do. Got to take care of my two favorite mushers.”

“Kat can take care of herself,” Sam noted. “Or so she says.”

“Oh, she can,” Paul agreed. “But it never hurts to have backup.”

Tazer held the radio out. “Does that mean you’ll wear it?”

With a sigh, Sam took the equipment and adjusted the headset to fit in his ear, tucking the radio into his pocket.

Tazer reached out and flipped the On switch. “Say something.”

“I don’t have time to talk. I have to get back in the race,” Sam grumbled.

“That you, Sam?” Kat’s voice sounded soft and smooth.

Blood flowed through his system like warm molasses and he fought the spreading heat. “Why didn’t you pin this thing on me yourself?” Then again, that might not have been a good idea. For the past few days, they’d worked side by side to complete preparations for the race, bagging feed for the drops, packing and repacking their sleds and tending to the dogs. He’d bumped into her more than he cared for.

Kat chuckled. “Tazer has a way with pinning unlike any other.”

Tazer’s brows rose. “Tell Kat to keep her eye on the trail and a hand on her gun, just to be safe.” Then she turned toward Paul. “Got room for me up there? It’s getting damn cold out here.”

Paul scooted over, easing his ankle out of the door frame.

Tazer climbed into the truck next to Paul and smiled. “Don’t break her heart, will ya?”

Sam frowned. “Who?”

Paul chuckled from the interior of the truck. “Buddy, you’ve been out in the woods too long.” His smile faded. “Take care out there.”

Other teams were arriving, heralded by the barking of sixty dogs.

“The team’s all set.” Vic clapped a hand to Sam’s back. “Better get going if you want to make use of the remaining daylight.”

Sam pulled the scarf up over his mouth and nodded to Paul, Vic and Tazer before he stepped on the sled, pulled up the snow hook and yelled, “Let’s go!”

KAT HAD A HARD TIME slowing the team. They were trained to race, to go for as long and as hard as they could before they needed rest. Stopping every hour to waste fifteen minutes made the lead dogs nervous and the rest of the team impatient. Already, several teams passed her. Her team howled in protest when she applied the brake and snow hook.

As much as Paul wanted her to win this race, she couldn’t go off without Sam. He was the only reason she’d agreed to the race in the first place.

Now that she was out on the snow, a world away from the hustle and crowds of D.C., she was glad she’d agreed. She couldn’t ask for a better place to think, unimpeded by the well-meaning S.O.S. team or her family back at the house. Royce had told her to get away from it all. Hell, he’d practically kicked her out of the office, insisting she needed the downtime. Nothing like being on the last frontier to get away from it all.

With the cold wind in her face, making ice crystals form in her eyelashes, and the soft sound of the runners skimming across the crusty snow, she relaxed.

“Is this thing still working?”

Sam’s clear crisp voice in Kat’s ear jolted her back to reality. A muffled tapping sound beat against her eardrum.

Kat winced. “I can hear you. Can you hear me?”

“Yes.”

“Then it works.” She could picture him frowning, and fiddling with the equipment, his gloved hands too bulky to be of much use with the small radio-transmitting device.

“Where’d they put the damn Off switch?” he asked.

“There’s a tiny switch on the piece that fits in the ear, but since we’ve got these things, we might as well use them.”

“Feels funny having a woman in my head.”

Kat chuckled. “No funnier than having a man in mine.”

“Just to set the record straight, I don’t need your protection for this race. If anything, I’m out here as your protection.”

“Sure, whatever you say.” Most men resisted having a woman provide protection of any kind—as if they conceded to being less of a man if they had a woman running interference.

“We don’t know that the accident was anything more than a onetime deal,” Sam continued.

“No, we don’t,” she answered smoothly, but Kat knew better. After inspecting the sled herself, she knew the damage had been deliberate. Question was, whose sled had the saboteur intended?

Sam sighed softly in her ear. “I don’t know about you, but I’m out here to win this race.”

Kat smiled behind the heavy wool neck scarf. “Sure you are. Like all the other sixty-six entrants and me.”

“That’s right.” He paused. “So look out, it won’t be long before you’re eating my dust.”

“Snow.” Kat couldn’t help correcting him. He needed it. The man was too independent. A lot like Marty. Determined to make it on his own and damn anyone who got in the way. That was one of the characteristics Kat had loved about Marty.

“Snow?”

“Eating my snow. We hope there’s not much dust at this time of year.”

Sam laughed in her ear, the sound warming Kat from the inside out. “Are you always this disagreeable?”

“Only when I’m confronted by a disagreeable man.”

“Point taken,” he conceded.

“I thought you didn’t like talking into these things.”

“I don’t.”

“Then shut up and get moving.”

His gentle snort was the last sound he made for a while.

When Kat realized she was still grinning, her lips turned downward. Where had that lighthearted feeling come from? And had she just been flirting with the man?

Sam was all right. For a transplant from Virginia, he seemed to understand the nature, care and feeding of the animals. And the dogs liked him.

Even Loki treated him like a member of the pack and Loki was a better judge of human character than most people. If Loki liked you, most likely, you were a good person. Not that Kat formed her impressions of strangers on the recommendation of a dog. Sam might have proven himself in the kennels, but would he have the stamina and drive to complete the eleven-hundred-mile race?

No matter whether he did or not, Kat planned to. Not so much to win as to prove to herself she still had it in her. She might have left Alaska for a few years, but the blood running through her veins was still ninety percent melted tundra snow.

Over the next hour of silence, the only sounds coming over the radio were the occasional commands Sam gave his team.

As she neared a good resting point, Kat asked, “Where are you?”

“Passed the Nome sign a few miles back.”

The famous Nome sign indicated only another one thousand forty-nine miles to go to the finish line. Kat’s breath always caught in her throat when her sled moved past the sign. Knowing she had so many more miles to go could be overwhelming, but not insurmountable. “You should be nearing Fish Creek. Watch out for the fifty-foot drop into the ravine. I almost spilled there. How are you holding up?” She didn’t know Sam or his abilities as a musher. He appeared to be in good condition and probably was from all the tromping around retrieving soil and mineral samples or whatever he did as a geologist.

“Don’t worry about me. I’m the one who’s been training for this event.”

She chuckled. “Think I’m not up to it?”

He paused before answering. “If the snowshoe fits…”

“I have to admit, the cold is a little more than I’m used to, but I’ll be fine after a couple days.” Physically, she’d never been in better shape. After Marty’s death, she’d poured herself into exercise and fitness. If not for any other reason than to eat up time between missions.

Lonely, empty time.

When friends, like Tazer, tried to include her in outings, trips or movies, she’d declined, retreating into her own world, preferring to handle her loss alone.

Kat removed one gloved hand from the handlebar and flexed her fingers. She’d been on the trail for four hours, the dogs were still full of energy and running, but they needed regular rest stops and snacks to keep up the pace.

Crisscrossed by snowmobile tracks, the trail opened onto a wide frozen swamp packed down by hundreds more snowmobile tracks. With trees bordering the swamp, this was where she usually made her first stop to rest the dogs. The copse of trees ahead and to the right would provide a good windbreak for her and the huskies. If Sam was making good time, he should catch up soon. She could get her cooker going and snack the dogs in that time.

“Gee!” Kat shouted the command, her voice carrying easily through the silence to her lead dogs.

Loki and Eli pulled to the right, the rest of the team falling in line.

As the dogs entered the stand of trees, Kat eased onto the foot brake and set out the snow hook, slowing the animals to a stop. Loki and Eli flopped to the ground, alert but relaxed with their heads on their paws. Some of the younger dogs danced around on their necklines before settling in for a rest.

After checking the feet, booties and general condition of the line of dogs, Kat fired up the portable cooker. Before long she had snow melting for the dog food and water boiling for coffee.

The dogs heard the arrival of another team before Kat could see them. They appeared from around a curve in the trail, tiny, dark dots in the white of the snow, growing larger as they neared.

The dogs slid in beside hers and stopped with a lot of tail wagging, happy yips of greeting and sniffing.

Kat handed Sam a canteen cup of coffee and turned to his sled and dogs. “Any problems?”

With Sam on one side and Kat on the other side of the team, they walked the line of dogs, checking feet, wrists and shoulders. All appeared in good shape.

After the dogs were fed and taken care of, Sam gave Kat a narrow-eyed look. “Look, if you’re slowing up for me, forget it. I’m here to race. I’ll leave you so far behind you won’t catch up.” His gray-green eyes flashed in the late-afternoon sun.

She tipped her head to the side. “Is that a challenge?”

“You bet.”

“You’re on.” She tossed the remains of her canteen cup into the snow, and stowed the metal cooker and feeding dishes before climbing on the back of her sled.

The sound of a snowmobile alerted her that they were no longer alone. The trail was not exclusive to the sled teams. Occasional snowmobiles were encountered, especially early on in the race when they hadn’t completely left civilization behind. Kat only gave it minor consideration. She pulled up the snow hook and had sucked in a lungful of air to shout to her team, when a shot rang out.

Sam’s cap flew from his head. “What the hell?”

Kat’s team yelped and lunged forward. She barely caught the handlebar with her gloved fingertips, struggling for a few seconds to hang on. She stepped on the foot brake to slow the dogs. When she turned back toward Sam, he lay on the ground.

“Get down!” he yelled. “Someone just shot at me.”

“Whoa!” Kat dropped to a crouch, anchoring her snow hook to keep the dogs from leaving with the sled. “Are you okay?” She scanned the tree line across the swamp.

“I’m fine.” As he reached out to grab his hat, another shot echoed through the stillness and his hat leaped into the air. “What the h—”

“Stay down.” Kat dropped to her stomach. “I’ll move around the clearing to see if I can find out who’s shooting.”

“You’ll stay exactly where you are,” Sam hissed into the mic. “I’ll go check.”

“Look, I’m trained in this kind of maneuver.”

“So am I,” he gritted out. “Stay down.”

“If I were a man, would you be so concerned?”

“Now is not the time to go all equal opportunity on me.”

Kat scooted behind the bulk of her fully laden sled. “Chauvinist.” Although frustrated by his demand for her to stay, she didn’t say the word in anger. With a man shooting at him, she didn’t wish additional bad karma on Sam.

“I won’t have another man, woman…or child…die on my account,” Sam muttered, working his way around to the opposite side of his sled. He dug into the pouch containing his rifle. With the weapon in front of him, he ran in a zigzag pattern toward the trees.

Shots rang out, hitting the snow just in front of or behind his boots.

Kat’s breath caught in her throat. Sam certainly looked as if he knew what he was doing. She hoped like hell he did.

Chapter Four

With bullets hitting too damn close for comfort, Sam dropped behind a fallen log, easing around the side to scan the area. Another shot echoed across the clearing. Dirt and splinters from the log sprayed his cheek. In a low crawl, he scrambled the length of the fallen trunk until he reached a stand of trees with a clump of bushes at its foot. Based on the direction his hat flew off, the bullets came out of the north. Besides his own breathing and that of Kat’s stirring against her microphone, Sam didn’t hear anything. All thirty-two dogs sensed the danger and waited, ears perked, alert and silently awaiting orders.

Sam straightened and stood behind the relative safety of a tree. “Let’s see how good a shot he is,” he muttered.

“Oh, please tell me you’re not going to give him a target,” Kat growled into the mic. “Just what I need, a man with a death wish.”

Okay, so maybe the mic was sensitive enough to pick up muttering. “Don’t think you’re getting off so easily. I’m going to make it to the finish line.”

Was that a feminine snort? “Intact, I hope.” Kat Sikes was a livewire and not afraid to speak her mind.

Sam grinned and slid his glove halfway off his hand, then poked it around the side of the tree.

A bullet smacked into it and flung the glove five feet behind him, confirming his suspicion, but leaving one hand gloveless and cold. “This guy’s a professional sniper.”

“I feel better knowing that.” Kat’s voice dripped sarcasm.

“The good news is he’s after me.”

Kat laughed, the sound blasting into Sam’s ear. “You think that’s good news?”

“Better than him being after everyone in the race, including you. I’m going to circle the clearing.” He glanced around, spotting another fair-size tree ten yards away. “This guy can’t get away.”

“Don’t do it, Sam.”

“What would you suggest? Stand here until he decides he’s played long enough?” Although she couldn’t see him, he shook his head, the bite of cold air already numbing his exposed fingers. “You know how to use a gun?”

“Don’t make me laugh.” An audible click sounded in his ear, a clear indication she was armed and ready. “Gotcha covered.”

“Don’t shoot unless you have to. No use giving him his next target.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” She was cocky and fearless.

The combination could be admirable or foolhardy. Sam hoped it didn’t make a lethal combination. He pushed away from the tree and ran for the next, his path erratic and as unpredictable as he could make it. Weighed down by heavy, insulated boots and snow, he moved slower than he liked. If he was lucky, the sniper wouldn’t draw a decent bead on him.

A bullet snapped a branch beside his cheek, another tore through his bulky parka, missing his arm by a hair.

“Son of a—” Kat swore. “I can’t see the bastard.” She fired a couple rounds.

“Aim for that outcropping of trees on the far side of the swamp.” Sam pushed away from the safety of the trees and ran again. At this rate, he’d be on the other guy by tomorrow. This time, he ran longer and faster through skeletal underbrush laced with snow.

The rain of bullets ceased when he’d gone only halfway, leading Sam to believe his attacker hadn’t stuck around. He continued until he’d circled the clearing.

Meanwhile, Kat had gone quiet, as well.

Sam missed the steady stream of sarcasm he’d gotten used to. “You still with me?”

“I’m with you,” she responded in a breathless voice.

Sam didn’t have time to ponder the reason she was winded all of a sudden. In the distance a small engine roared to life.

“Sounds like our friend flew the coop,” Kat commented.

“Damn.” Sam arrived at the outcropping of trees with the absolute certainty he wouldn’t find his man.

The snow was packed down and bullet casings littered the ground.

Sam lifted one spent shell from the snow and dropped it in his pocket. Then he followed the footsteps up and over a small rise. This swamp area was known for the multitude of snowmobile tracks crisscrossing through the area. Another set of snowmobile tracks wasn’t unusual. Except the driver had been shooting at Sam. He couldn’t chalk the incident up to a hunter mistaking him for a moose.

A branch snapped behind him and Sam spun.

“Whoa, tiger.” Kat held up her hands, her rifle in one of them. “I’m on your side.” She stared out at the packed snow. “You’ll never trace him. There are too many tracks around here to even try.”

“I know.” He glanced at her, a frown drawing his brows downward. “I thought I told you to stay put.”

“In case you haven’t figured it out yet, I don’t always follow orders.” She shrugged. “It’s a hard habit to break. Ask my brother.”

“The sniper could just as easily shoot you as me.”

She tipped her head to the side, her brows rising on her forehead. “But he wasn’t aiming for me, was he?”

“No, he was after me.” Sam shook his head. “I’d sure as hell like to know why.”

“We can report the incident at our next checkpoint. But if we don’t get on the trail, we won’t make it before midnight.”

“I’d rather not report the shooting. If he’s only after me, why shut down an entire race?”

“Are you nuts or do you really have a death wish?”

Sam ignored her and retraced his footsteps to retrieve his glove. Fortunately, only one finger had a hole in the tip. Nothing a little duct tape wouldn’t cure.

Kat followed, grumbling the entire way.

Her anger only managed to make Sam smile. He liked to get under her skin and make her blue eyes flash. The race was definitely going to be interesting for more than one reason.

Once they checked the dogs, they both stepped behind the runners of their sleds and raised their snow hooks.

“Let’s go!” Sam and Kat shouted simultaneously.

Anxious to leave the frozen swamp behind, both teams strained against their harnesses. Kat and Sam barely had time to grab their handlebars before the sleds jerked forward.

Despite the near miss, they still had a race to complete with approximately a thousand miles left to go.

Sam let Kat take the lead. During the next four hours, he debated turning back. A maniac wanted him dead or at least scared. No, if he’d wanted him dead, why would someone want to shoot at him and miss?

KAT LIFTED ONE HAND from the handlebar and readjusted her scarf over her face, covering the exposed skin up to the edge of her goggles. The temperature had dropped in the past four hours since the sun sank below the horizon. At the Yentna checkpoint it had been minus six. It must be nearing minus twenty now. The sky was clear, the stars shining bright on the trail and not a single fluffy cloud hovered over this lonely part of Alaska to help keep the relative heat of the day from escaping into the atmosphere.

The Alaskan huskies loved the cold; their mix of breeds, including greyhound, husky and other dogs, combined speed with strength and endurance. Their bodies were equipped to handle extreme temperatures. They ran as if they would never get tired, but Kat knew better. After she collected her food bags and straw from the Skwentna checkpoint, she planned to rest them for several hours.

Lights from a small cluster of buildings loomed ahead, as well as the lights from dozens of snowmobiles lining the trail. A cheer went up and continued, as well-wishers shouted encouragement to Kat, then Sam following half a mile behind.

Kat loved the Iditarod, the sense of everyone being in it together, the support of the locals and volunteers along the way and the beauty of Alaska. Her heart swelled with pride that she was one of them. One of the lucky people born and raised in this great state.

As she slid into the Skwentna checkpoint, she pressed her foot to the brake. “Whoa.” The dogs barked excitedly to the other twenty teams already there. The noise was unrelenting and exhilarating all at once. The team didn’t act as though they’d been on the trail for over nine hours. They were ready to visit and play with members of their own kind.

Sam joined her. “Stopping here?”

“No. Too busy around here for the dogs to get any real rest. I thought we’d stop a few miles out to get a jump on tomorrow’s time.”

“Sure you don’t want the safety of numbers?”

“Believe me, there will be numbers we can mix with in the smaller camp farther down the trail.” A racing official directed them to their feed bags. Once she’d lugged the bag to her sled and tied it down, she headed for a stack of straw and grabbed a bale.

“Need help with that?” Sam dug his hands into a bale and hefted it with little effort.

Grumpy and starting to feel the strain of stress and fatigue, Kat shot him a glare. “No, thank you. I can pull my own weight in the race.”

Sam had the nerve to chuckle. “Not as in shape as you thought?”

Her glare deepened, but she didn’t refute his words. Truth was that jogging and lifting weights was only half the effort needed to be physically prepared to lead a team on the grueling race. Her shoulders ached and her hands cramped with the effort of hanging on to the sled over the rolling terrain.

Sam tossed his bale on top of his sled and tied it down.

Kat admired how easily he accomplished the task, gloved hands and all.

Meanwhile, she struggled to lift hers to the top of the loaded sled. Once she had her bale in place, she walked the line of dogs, snacking them once more.

Back at the sled, she stripped off a glove and dug in one of her pockets, retrieving her satellite phone, an illegal addition to her equipment by Iditarod standards. Given the circumstances, Kat deemed it necessary. She walked around to the back of a building out of sight and sound of the other contestants. After the shooting in the swamp, she’d called Tazer to fill her in. Now she was anxious for a status update.

From where she stood, she could just see Sam bent over his lead dogs’ feet.

Tazer answered on the first ring. “Hey, Kat. How’s everything going? You make the checkpoint at Skwentna yet?”

“We’re there now.” She glanced at Sam, putting fresh booties on Striker’s and Hammer’s feet. Even covered from head to foot in thick layers of clothing, he exuded strength and a sincere concern for his team.

“Anything on who might have been shooting at us? Anything on Sam’s work that could make someone angry enough to want to kill him?”

“As a matter of fact, I just got information on one of the race contestants.” Papers rustled and Tazer continued, “Al Fendley is a hunting outfitter. It’s no secret he wants Sam to find oil in the interior to open up more roads north in the area of his hunting operation.”

“Is that enough for him to want to have Sam killed?” Kat stared across at Sam.

“Apparently Al’s up to his eyeteeth in debt from expanding his outfitter business. He even flew in building supplies to have a lodge constructed in the proposed drilling area.”

“Jumped the gun, did he?”

“Yeah.” Tazer hesitated then added, “There’s something else.”

Sam straightened, scanning the crowd in front of the building. His search continued until he spotted her and he smiled.

Kat’s pulse quickened. “What else?”

“When I called Royce to discuss the situation with Sam, he only sounded mildly concerned. When I called in the update about the shooting, he sounded funny.”