Icecapade (5 page)

He was a plump young man with shoulder-length curly brown hair. He wore a brown and white poncho and square spectacles.

“Noel!”

Noel was conscious of Robert right behind him, and for the first time his presence at Noel’s Josh Lanyon

47

shoulder felt supportive rather than custodial. Or maybe that was simply Noel believing what he wanted to believe.

“What’s wrong, Francis?”

Francis’s round face worked. “A newborn cria is stuck in a crevice on your property.”

Noel’s heart plummeted too. “Is it still alive?”

“It was ten minutes ago. But I can’t get it out on my own.”

“What in God’s name is a crias?” Robert asked, looking from one of them to the other.

“Cria. It’s a baby llama,” Noel explained.

“Francis breeds them.” He’d have liked to ask Francis what the hell a cria was doing getting stuck in crevices on his property, especially today of all days, but a couple of years worth of living next door to a llama farm had taught him that llamas were very good at finding the weak spot in any fence and wandering on through.

“Can’t you call the fire department or something?”

Noel laughed at the innocence of city slickers.

To Francis he said, “I’ve got rope and canvas in the stable. We should be able to make some kind of a sling and get it out.”

“Yes. Please. Hurry,” Francis urged. “I’m afraid his mother will get stuck, too, trying to get him out.”

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“You’re breeding llamas?” Robert’s tone was skeptical, as though he suspected the llamas might be a cover for a more sinister animal.

“Llama’s are exceptionally smart and resourceful animals,” Francis informed him, trailing them up the stairs as Noel snatched up the stacked boxes of ornaments and carried them into the house.

“Getting stuck in a crevice doesn’t sound exceptionally smart to me.”

Noel ignored the exchange behind him as he grabbed an LL Bean field coat and gloves from the closet beneath the stairs. What a day. He still hadn’t showered or shaved. No wonder Robert was keeping him at arm’s distance—and he hadn’t even started fooling around with llamas yet.

Behind him Francis was still extolling the virtues of llamas to Robert, who was making polite but unconvinced noises.

“Will you be here when I get back?” Noel asked, zipping his coat.

“Sure I will. Because I’m going with you.”

“Good! The more hands the better,” Francis said.

“I’ll be right back,” Noel told him, and he set off for the barn followed by Robert.

“You know, you really don’t have to go,” Noel said as they slipped and slid their way down the Josh Lanyon

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now much-traveled hillside. “This won’t take long.”

“I disagree. How do I know you won’t take this opportunity to try and make a break for it?”

Noel stopped walking. Robert couldn’t be serious. And yet…he looked totally dead pan.

“You can’t— Why would I? I live here. I’ve been living here for nearly a decade. I’m not running from you or anyone else.”

“That’s easy to say.”

“I call
you
every year.”

Robert stared at him.

“I’m not hiding from you, Robert. Far from it.”

Robert’s mouth gave a curious twist. His gaze faltered. It was the strangest expression. Noel couldn’t tell if it was the face of a man about to laugh or cry, but just as quickly the look was gone and Robert had his usual mask in place.

Noel knew it was a mask because he

remembered, had held on as tight as he could to the memory, of every minute of their one and only night together. The Robert Cuffe he had known had been surprisingly funny and disarmingly tender beneath the requisite tough guy facade.

What had happened to that man?

He had to still be there because, despite Robert’s accusations, Noel was increasingly confident Robert couldn’t truly believe him guilty of those recent cat burglaries. He was too smart, 50

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for one thing. No matter how similar the new rash of burglaries was to Noel’s old pattern, there had to be enough differences that there were doubts in Robert’s mind.

Besides, if he’d come there determined to arrest Noel, he’d have his G-ride. He’d have brought uniformed police officers with him.

“Maybe if you told me what this is really all about I could help you.”

“Plea bargaining already?”

Irritated, Noel turned away and continued to the barn. Robert, perhaps in a show of faith—or perhaps in a show of weariness—waited on the hillside. Inside the barn, Noel grabbed rope and a sheet of canvas and hurried back to the rust colored pickup.

The three of them squeezed into Francis’s truck with Daisy, his Australian sheepdog. The cab smelled like llama and wet dog. At least, that’s what Noel hoped it smelled like. Hopefully his lack of grooming wasn’t catching up with him.

As Francis tore down the road and across the snowy pasture, he offered a hand to Robert. “By the way, I’m Francis Rich. I own Hidden Creek Llama Ranch.”

Robert, eyes not leaving the snowy road—the truck was doing enough of that— briefly shook hands. “Robert Cuffe.”

“Where do you know Noel from, Robert?”

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Robert said pleasantly, “I know him from the old days.”

Noel stared straight ahead, waiting for the rest of it. He was surprised Robert had bothered to be that discreet. Not that it mattered in this case.

Francis, of course, merely laughed. “Are you one of his old gang? We’re always trying to get Noel to tell us about his ill-gotten glory days.”

“Were your glory days ill gotten too?” Robert inquired of Noel.

Noel looked back at him but declined to answer.

Robert asked, “And how is the old gang?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“No? Well, your old pal Chickie is doing a ten year stretch in Dannemora for grand larceny.”

Noel shivered. He’d known that was inevitable.

Mostly he’d worked on his own, but when he used a partner, he used Chick MacEvoy. Chick was one of the best second story men around, but he wasn’t famous for his patience or planning.

“Yep,” Robert said thoughtfully, and Noel knew they were pressed too close to each other for him to have missed that shiver. “The past has a way of catching up with everyone sooner or later.”

Chapter Four

Two llamas stood side by the side on the snowy track, chewing their cud and watching solemnly as sentries as the pickup bumped and ground its way to the side of the road.

Robert opened the door, grunting as Daisy scrambled over him and jumped out. The men followed, wading through the shin-high snow to the back of the truck.

On the slight knoll above them stood another shaggy llama. She appeared to be gazing down into the rocks. The weird clucking-humming noise she made carried down the hillside. Frances was making worried clucking noises too. Noel’s eyes met Robert’s and he smiled faintly.

The other llamas wandered up as Noel lifted the tarp and rope out of the truck bed. They poked their muzzles into Francis’s jacket pockets and he petted them absently.

“I hope that rope is long enough.”

Noel stopped. “What do you mean, you hope the rope is long enough? How deep is this crevice?”

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Francis looked flustered. “Well, it’s…” He spread his hands wide, far above his head.

“Seriously?” Robert asked of no one in particular.

“When you said
crevice
,” Noel asked, “did you maybe mean
crevasse
?”

“Er…maybe,” Francis admitted.

Noel sighed, but what was the use in giving vent to all the things he longed to say? Francis was…Francis.

They climbed up the knoll, Daisy trotting ahead of them, her wagging tail dusting the snow as she ran.

As they reached the top, the mother llama picked her way sure-footedly over to them, making a strange sound that mostly resembled a squashed moo.

“All right, Mama. Help is on the way,” Francis reassured her.

Noel walked over to the “crevice” and gazed down. He could make out what looked like a leggy ball of white fluff tucked about thirty feet down. Two things were immediately clear to him.

That animal was not getting out of there on its own—and Francis was too wide to make it through the narrow fissure of an opening.

That left…

He glanced around. It was beginning to get crowded on the knoll between humans, dog and 54

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the other llamas. Robert joined him, staring down at the cria.

“How long is the rope you brought?”

“Long enough. A hundred feet.”

The small llama was faintly echoing the worried hum of its mother.

“How the hell did that happen? I thought you said llamas were supposed to be smart?”

“They are, but they’re curious, too, and that one’s probably only a few hours old. They’re usually born in the daylight.”

“You seem to know a lot about llamas.”

“They get through Francis’s fence a lot, so I’ve spent some time listening to him on the subject.”

Francis was on his knees on the other side of the hole in the ground peering anxiously down.

One hand steadied his glasses perched precariously on his nose. The mother llama peered down with him. A small echoing hum rose from the cria.

“There
must
be a way I can get down there,”

Francis fretted.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Robert said. He looked from Noel to Francis as though trying to determine the extent of the threat. “You’re dreaming.”

It was blunt but honest. No way was portly Francis going to manage to wriggle through that opening. Robert could probably make it. Though Josh Lanyon

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he was muscular, he was lean, and he seemed reasonably limber. But the obvious choice was Noel.

Noel knelt, trying to get a better view of the shelf where the cria lay. Going down was probably not the problem. Or at least not as big a problem as climbing up would be. Either way, it was nothing he hadn’t done a million times—

though, granted, not since his fall.

“I’ll do it.”

Francis look relieved. “No, no. I’ll do it, of course. I only brought you here to lend a hand. I’ll make the climb. It’s my little lost llama.”

Noel happened to be watching Robert, so he saw him roll his eyes.

“You’d probably better let me do it, Francis.”

Noel rose, dusting the snow from his gloved hands. “I’ve got more experience at this kind of thing.”

Robert made that sound that fell somewhere between a snort and a splutter. “Yes, any time a llama went missing you were always my first thought.”

Noel tossed the coil of rope at him. “Make yourself useful and tie that around that tree trunk.”

“Tree trunk? That’s optimistic.” Robert took the coiled rope and carried it to the lightning blasted stump of pine tree. He looped the rope around the trunk to anchor it, hauled on it hard to 56

Icecapade

test its resistance, and then walked back with the lengths looped around his arm. He moved toward Noel, but Noel waved him away.

“It’s not for me. I’m going to use the tarp to make a sling and lift the calf up that way.”

“Cria.”

“Right. Anyway, it’ll be safer for both of us in case it freaks and starts struggling.”

“Tie it around your waist climbing down at least. There’s no reason to take a chance when you don’t have to.”

“And here I was thinking you’d enjoy watching me break my neck.”

“Not in front of Francis.”

Noel was busy tying one of the ends of rope around his waist. Robert was right. No need to take stupid chances. Beyond the stupid chance he was taking in climbing down there to start with.

When he finished tying a neat mountain climber’s knot, he started to move away. Robert hooked a hand beneath his arm. “Hold it.”

He reached for Noel’s waist and double-checked the knot.

“It’s not Everest you know.”

“I know. It’s at least twenty feet down and there’s loose rock and ice.”

Noel nodded. “If this keeps up, I’m going to start thinking you care.”

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“Always the wiseass. Just watch what you’re doing.”

“Piece of cake.”

“Please be careful,” Francis said as Noel squatted on the ledge.

“It’s okay, Francis.” Noel swung a leg over the edge. He kept his gaze trained on the tree the rope was tied to.

Mind over matter. You know what you’re doing.

You’ve done it hundreds of times.

He ignored that sickening shift, the conviction that his equilibrium was sliding out from under him. His gaze dropped to his gloved hands gripping tightly to the outthrust rock. Snow dusted the black wool and he could see every sparkling crystal blazing like diamonds in the sunlight.

Slowly, cautiously, he felt with his right foot for a toe hold. There was another disorienting slide, but he knew—logic told him—that regardless of the message his body was sending, he was perfectly all right. He was not moving.

The hillside was not moving.

A hand clamped down on his wrist.

Noel looked up.

Robert was leaning down, his head blotting out the sun, throwing his face in shadow. Even so, Noel could make out the predatory gleam of his eyes.

“What’s going on?”

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“Huh?” Noel was confused. “Nothing’s going on.”

“Bullshit.” Robert leaned closer as though trying to read his face. “There’s something wrong with you. There’s a problem with your equilibrium, isn’t there?”

Talk about lousy timing. “It’s no big deal. All I have to d—”

“Get up. Get out of there.” The hand locked around Noel’s wrist, tightened. He couldn’t free himself without struggling and no way could he afford any fast moves balanced as he was.

“What is it? What’s happening?” Francis asked, looking worriedly from Noel to Robert.

Daisy trotted up and down the opening, whining, Even the llamas were gargling at him. In another time and place it might have been funny.

Or…not.

“Change of plan,” Robert said, brisk and businesslike. “I’m climbing down and Noel will hang onto the rope.”