Page 41 of Hell and Gone
More thrusts, deep and slow, building in speed until he was driving in and out of Everett hard and fast. Everett shouted, hoarse bellows and cries ofyesandmore, his toes curling over Lawrence’s shoulders, leg muscles flexing, fingers clenching on Lawrence’s hands so hard it hurt.
“Law, I’m coming,” Everett gasped. “Fuck, I’m coming!”
Lawrence followed, driving in and holding, his orgasm pulled from him as Everett’s body milked him dry. He nearly blacked out, landing on his elbows over Everett as he let Everett’s legs fall from his shoulders.
Everett kissed him in between breaths, his hand stroking up and down Lawrence’s sweat-soaked back. His fingernails caught on the edges of scars, and he fingered one long knife wound from years past.
“What this?”
“Ancient history.” Lawrence shifted, pulled out, and laid on Everett’s side. Everett faced him.
“Everything here is history. Everything is connected to the past. Nothing here is simple.”
“God no.” Lawrence chuckled. “Everyone knows everythin’ in these parts. Everyone’s connected to everyone else, and some of those connections are darker than others. You go your whole life with the same people day in and day out, and there ain’t no hidin’ from anythin’ up here. No runnin’ away, neither. Your life is just a series of memories passed between people, good or bad. And you live with the consequences for those memories.”
“What is it about this place?” Everett breathed. “The Crazies. Makes you wonder if those stories are true and this mountain really does make people go nuts.”
Lawrence shrugged. “Maybe it does. I’m not all that sane.” He grinned. Everett chuckled, and it smacked Lawrence in the chest, the punch of that smile. His thoughts fled, scattered, and he stared at Everett, struck dumb, for a long moment.
“But I think it’s the freedom,” he finally said, shaking himself back to rights. His heart still fluttered, still cradled Everett’s smile. “Have you ever felt more free than you do out here? It’s just you and the world under this big blue sky. You get to know yourself out here, break yourself down until find out what you’re made of. That’s freedom. And that’s strength, facing the inside of yourself. It makes a man, being out here.”
“Now you really sound like a cowboy.”
Lawrence laughed. “As opposed to my high school dropout, no diploma, ranchin’ and ropin’ ways? Ain’t much in this world I can do, ‘cept ranchin’.”
Everett’s eyes sparked. He smiled again, and Lawrence’s breath hitched. “And fucking.”
“You just say the word, Army. I’ll make love to you anytime.”
Everett’s smile softened. Had he heard what Lawrence was trying to say? The moment lingered, their eyes locked together. Lawrence almost reached out, almost dragged him in for another kiss—
Everett sighed and laid back, scrubbed his hands over his face. “We can’t stay here forever. They’re still looking for us. And they’re going to arrest you when they find us.”
“Hopefully my truck at Birch Creek will send them off track for a while.”
“Hopefully. But in the meantime, we need a plan. Unless we can find who the killer is, this whole mountain seems hell-bent on pinning the blame on you.”
The peaceful morning, the sun-dappled happiness, fled. Lawrence sat up, elbows on his knees, and clasped his hands together. “Whatever is going on, from the rustlin’ to the drugs to the killin’, it’s all being done by people who know enough about these mountains to move around. And by people who know our history. Who know what’s been happenin’ here.”
“Locals. It has to be. I came from Helena and I knew nothing about what the Crazies had been through. It has to be a local.”
Lawrence frowned. “I don’t think there’s a man in these mountains as twisted and full of hate that could do that. Kill a man in cold blood? Shoot him in the back? Hang Carson off his horse?” Lawrence shook his head. “That’s a special kind of evil.”
“And it takes a special kind of hate.” Everett peered at him. Lawrence could see his mind working, watch his thoughts come together in his eyes. His eyes were laser focused and a million miles away, chewing through pieces of the puzzle. “Walk me through the timeline again. When did the rustling start?”
“A year ago. Last summer, when we was turnin’ the herds out to the wide pastures. Rustlers hit every ranch. Endless Sky, Lazy Twenty-Two, Heart’s Rafter, Rocking H, and Flying Joker.”
“Tell me about those last two ranches. You haven’t mentioned them before.”
“Rocking H is Martin’s outfit. He and Howell have been buttin’ heads over a water access dispute. There’s an outflow that comes off Crazy Peak, and it meanders through Rocking H before flowin’ into Endless Sky’s basin. Martin tried to put dams on it, keep the water for his land. That didn’t sit well with Howell. They been in court ever since.”
“And the other?”
“Flying Joker? They’re a dyin’ ranch down in the foothills. Never had much luck there. The good grazin’ was always deeper in the Crazies, as backwards as that was. They’re Howell’s neighbors, and they get along all right, I suppose. They run through cowboys like a dog shits. Get a lot of the Endless Sky rejects and the saddle tramps passin’ through that don’t make it up the mountain.”
“Every ranch lost stock?”
“Every ranch. Some more than others. Endless Sky lost a hundred head. We lost thirty. Flying Joker lost about two dozen, but they don’t have much to begin with. Heart’s Rafter is broken now. Don’t know how many they lost, but they got the brunt of it.”
