“Don’t know.Never tried it.”
“Me, neither.”Bill glanced at Quinn.“How do you figure they do it with stallions?”
Quinn had been wondering the same thing ever since Jo had convinced him she was really transporting horse sperm.“Let’s not even go there.Listen, drop me at the airline where you let her off.”
“Good luck, but I really don’t think you can make it.She was running behind.She thanked me for getting her packages all organized, and I guess she thought the cooler was in one of the bags.”
“Yeah, well, it’s been a crazy day.”
“No kidding.Everybody knows about your little brush with the law, by the way.Murray’s busting a gut laughing.”
“I knew it!I knew he was behind that snake thing.”
“No, he wasn’t, swear to God!He said he couldn’t have planned a better day for you if he’d tried.”Bill maneuvered next to the curb.“Should I wait?”
“Nope.”
“Yeah, but if you don’t catch her, what are you gonna do?You can’t follow her to Montana.”
Quinn stared at Bill as he considered the idea for the first time.He hadn’t planned his next step if he missed the plane, but he’d been mostly to blame for this whole mess, and Jo would be bitterly disappointed to lose Sir Lust-a-Lot’s sperm on top of all her financial problems.He didn’t like to think about her being bitterly disappointed, especially if it was his doing.And it wasn’t as if he couldn’t get away from the office for a few days....“Sure, I can.”
Driving a back road miles from Bozeman, Quinn felt as small as a flea on the back of a woolly mammoth.The headlights of his rental car cast the only light for miles around, not counting the moon and stars overhead.The mountains loomed threateningly around him, pitch-black except for a pale topping of moonlit snow.There was so much space in Montana.If his rental car broke down, he could imagine waiting for days before another vehicle came down this two-lane highway.
Belatedly he wished he’d brought food and water, a sleeping bag, a...arifle.He’d never shot a gun in his life, but this was the sort of country that seemed to require firearms.And it was Jo’s country.His estimation of her grit and determination rose with every bend in the increasingly lonely road.
He hoped to God he was on the right lonely road.While he’d waited for his flight he’d asked his personal assistant to call every chamber of commerce in Montana until she found somebody who recognized the name Bar None.Fortunately she’d hit pay dirt within the first half hour of phoning.Unfortunately it was located near a town named Ugly Bug, on the banks of Ugly Bug Creek.After snakes and lizards, Quinn listed bugs as his third least favorite creature.
If he was on the right road, he might miss the turnoff to the ranch, but at least he’d eventually get to Ugly Bug.If he was on the wrong road he’d probably drive until he ran out of gas, and then a bear would eat him.
He’d always been fascinated with the West, but he realized that his picture of it had been highly romanticized.Cowboys around a campfire, the comradery of a roundup, card games in the local saloon.His image of the West had been cozy, quaint and not nearly big enough.This country was enormous.
He rounded another bend and saw a spark of light nestled in a valley.Checking his odometer, he decided it could be coming from the Bar None.Maybe he’d defied the odds and found the place.Maybe they wouldn’t find his bleached bones lying beside a dried-up watering hole.
A few more bends in the road, and sure enough, on his right stood a big wooden gate.Two upright poles supported a crossbeam, and from that dangled a sign.Quinn couldn’t read it in the dark, but he’d bet it said Bar None.
He shone his car’s headlights on the gate and got out to open it.The thing was wired together instead of padlocked, which was fortunate for him.The barbed wire fence on either side of the gate wasn’t something he wanted to tangle with.He drove through and went back to hook the gate closed again.
Driving slowly down the dirt road toward the cluster of lights he assumed was the ranch, he noticed dark shapes scattered across the moonlit landscape.Either cows or bears, he concluded.He remembered Jo mentioning timber rattlers with bodies as thick as his forearm, and he shuddered.With luck, none of those would be hanging around the front porch of her house tonight.
Finally he arrived at a cluster of buildings and corrals.With his limited knowledge, he figured the two-story white clapboard one was the main house, the rust-colored structure was a barn and the third, also rust-colored, was probably a bunkhouse.Light spilled from the ranch-house windows onto the front porch with its wide swing and two rocking chairs.
The whole arrangement was right out of a Brian Hastings movie.Cowboys were making a comeback these days, and Hastings was cashing in on the new craze.Quinn hoped to hell Hastings would contract with Jo for the use of her ranch.Any woman who could keep her cool under fire the way Jo had today deserved a break.
Taking the cooler from the passenger seat, Quinn got out and closed the car door.A plump woman of about forty opened the door and peered out.Such a thing would never happen in the city, Quinn thought, remembering his triple-locked apartment door.
He smiled at the woman.“Hello, I’m?—”
“Glory, hallelujah.”The woman gazed at him as if she were witnessing the second coming.
Quinn figured she must have recognized the cooler he carried, but even so he was a little taken aback at the woman’s worshipful expression.“Hey, glad to be of service.It’s the least I could do, under the circumstances.”
“You know about our circumstances?”
“Some of it.Listen, is Jo around?I’m?—”
“I know who you are.”The woman’s grin put big dimples in both cheeks.“And I’m tickled spitless to see you.We’d about given up hope.Come in, come in.I’m Emmy Lou, the housekeeper.Have you eaten?I can warm up the leftover chicken.”
It was a most gratifying welcome.Quinn decided he’d done the right thing.“Chicken sounds wonderful.”He followed the woman into a small entry hall.“I figured Jo would be worried.I came as soon as I could.”
