by B. J Daniels
* * *
CULHANE SAW WHAT the punk was doing but quickly turned away. It confirmed what he’d already suspected. The fool was going to get himself killed—and possibly all of the people here with him, including himself and Alexis.
Maybe Tyrell hadn’t noticed, but Culhane had seen Gene watching them all to make sure no one tried to call the cops before the phones were gathered. Gene hadn’t seen what Tyrell was doing. Yet.
As Bobby approached, Culhane saw the blood on Bobby’s sleeve. The shirt was too big for him. In fact they all looked as if they were dressed in someone else’s clothing. Whatever had happened that they had to get rid of their own clothes was something he didn’t want to know.
He pulled his phone from his pocket and slid it down the counter before turning to Alexis. She handed hers over, and he slid it down as well. Bobby stared at him for a moment before scooping up both phones without a word. But as he walked away, Culhane realized that he’d seen Bobby somewhere before. Recently, but the memory eluded him.
“We just need food and medical attention for a gunshot wound,” Gene yelled over the racket. “Then we’ll be on our way.” That seemed to lessen the clamor a little.
“Eric, make sure no one moves.” Gene shifted his gaze to Bobby. “See about getting us some food to go.”
“How am I supposed to do that? You killed the damned cook. It isn’t like I can boil water,” Bobby whined. Gene turned the gun on him, making the younger man pale.
“I can cook,” Culhane said and shoved to his feet. He knew he had a better chance of defusing this situation on his feet. He heard Alexis let out a sigh as if not surprised he would volunteer.
As he turned to face the three, he could see that Gene was eyeing him with suspicion. “I believe those are my eggs back there burning to a crisp on the grill,” Culhane said as he took off his Stetson, laid it carefully on the counter and raked a hand through his thick dishwater-blond hair. He hoped his boy-next-door appearance made him look as harmless as any aw-shucks cowboy fresh off the ranch—and not a former deputy or a gun-toting criminal wanted by the law.
Bobby stood frozen in place as if waiting to see if Gene was going to shoot him—and turn the gun on Culhane as well. It took a moment before the older man lowered his weapon and gave a sharp, still-pissed-off nod.
The baby’s crying reached an earsplitting level as Culhane headed for the kitchen. He could see that it was starting to get under Gene’s skin.
“Somebody shut up that squalling kid!” Gene yelled. “Or I’ll shut it up!”
* * *
OF COURSE CULHANE had volunteered to cook, Alexis thought. It was so like him to put himself into even more danger, but at least now he could move around—which she was sure was his plan.
Not that she’d ever known Culhane to have a plan. In all the time she’d known him—about three years—he’d scoffed at plans.
“What would be the point?” he’d told her one time when they’d both been on the same deputy assignment. “We make a plan, it doesn’t work, we’re screwed.” He’d shrugged. “I just go with my instincts—wherever they lead me—and see what happens.”
She couldn’t imagine anyone living his life like that, and yet it seemed to work for Culhane. From what she could tell, he had few roots, had done a lot of other things before getting into law enforcement and never seemed to concern himself with the future.
“Do you really not have a five-year plan?” she’d asked soon after they’d met. The question had made him howl with laughter.
“Five years?” He made it sound as if that was so far off in the future that he found it incomprehensible.
“It’s not that unusual for a person to consider where they’d like to be five years from now,” she’d said, smarting a little. She’d always had a plan. Had one from the moment she awoke in the morning until she went to bed at night.
“So I’m going out on a limb here,” Culhane had said, “but I’m guessing you have a five-year plan. Where is it you see yourself in five years? Sheriff? Mayor? Governor?”
She’d waved the question off. “None of your business.”
He’d let it go, and she’d been glad since she’d wished she hadn’t brought it up.
Now she watched Culhane make his way into the kitchen and wondered if he had any idea what he was doing. Fortunately, he had good instincts—most of the time. But given that the man was now wanted for the murder of a wife Alexis hadn’t known existed, she had to question those instincts that had him now in the kitchen cooking for killers.
She tried to breathe. Since she’d awakened in bed alone this morning, she’d hurriedly packed an overnight bag and gone after Culhane. She’d feared she was on a fool’s errand. He would never let her take him to jail without a fight. Not to mention, she didn’t like the idea of turning him over to the sheriff who’d fired them. Culhane was in the middle of a wrongful-discharge lawsuit against the sheriff and his department. Could she really put him in the hands of a man like “Willy” Garwood? Would Culhane even last a night in jail?
She told herself that she was just her doing her job. She would hate for him to think this was payback for him leaving last night without even a goodbye. Or for him not bothering to even mention a wife and the murder charge.
He had to know that waking up alone in that big bed and finding out that he was now wanted by the law had left her more than shaken. She’d thought she knew him. Thought she knew his heart as well as she knew his body.
Why had he kept all of this from her? Just the thought made her sick to her stomach, something that had been happening a lot lately. He should have trusted her. He should have told her everything. He should also have known that she’d come after him. Just not for the reason he thought.
She had to take him in, get him locked up and safe. If not in Sheriff Garwood’s cell, then one where it would buy her time. As long as he was running loose, he was in danger—and not just from Garwood. Right now he was considered armed and dangerous. She couldn’t let some trigger-happy cop kill him.
But taking him in had been her plan before everything had gone sideways in this café in the middle of nowhere. She tried to slow her pounding pulse. There’d been times when she’d been fearful with good reason as a deputy—whenever she’d walked into a situation without knowing what was really going on.
But this time, she could see where this was headed. This time, she had even more reason to be afraid, she thought as she watched Culhane. Her hand went protectively to her stomach. She could lose everything today.
CHAPTER FOUR
EARL RAY CAULFIELD had recognized Culhane Travis when he walked in. Just that morning, he’d heard all about him on the police scanner he kept by his bed. Former sheriff’s deputy. Armed and dangerous. Wanted for the murder of his wife. He’d jotted down the man’s description and the make and model of his pickup along with the license-plate number—as he often did, though never expecting that they’d cross paths. Montana was a huge state.
When the cowboy had walked into the café, Earl Ray had looked out front to the pickup the man had been driving. Years of working in a special division of the military had honed his skills. Earl Ray had seen that Culhane had a gun under his shirt, and he’d considered what to do about it.
He liked to think himself a good judge of character. In his line of work in the military, he’d had only seconds to assess a situation before acting. While he might have slowed some with age, he still believed he hadn’t lost a lot of those ingrained abilities that had made him good at his job.
He’d watched Culhane Travis take a seat at the counter. He’d picked up on the cowboy’s interest in recently paroled part-time criminal Leo Vernon, who’d just gotten back after spending the past eighteen months as a guest at Montana State Prison.
He’d decided to just watch him, pretty sure there wouldn’t be any trouble inside the café. The cowboy seemed to
be waiting for Leo to take a smoke break outside, something Leo usually did by now.
But that was before the three armed men had walked in. At first Earl Ray had thought the men were looking for Culhane Travis. Instead, their leader went straight back to the kitchen after Leo. Earl Ray saw the former sheriff’s deputy take in the men and start to leave, only changing his mind when the woman came in.
He had no idea who she was—just that she also was armed and seemed to be here because of the cowboy. As she took a seat next to Culhane, there was no doubt in Earl Ray’s mind that the two knew each other—and well.
That much firepower in this small space made him more than nervous. He had been thinking about how to get everyone out of there before there was trouble, when he heard the gunshot.
The situation had gone downhill from there and was about to get worse. He just hoped the cowboy and his lady friend bided their time for an opening. There were too many people at risk in this café for more gunplay.
He looked over at Bessie. What she’d told him earlier about wanting to move to Arizona had shaken his world. He couldn’t let her do that. Yet, he also knew he couldn’t stop her once her mind was made up.
“It’s going to be all right,” he said now, voicing his hope as he took Bessie’s hand and squeezed it. “We’re all just going to stay calm.”
She looked at him with such admiration, such trust, that it hurt his heart. He had to swallow, feeling the weight of everyone’s life balanced on his aging shoulders, especially Bessie’s.
“You are so full of bull, Earl Ray Caulfield,” she said with a chuckle. But she squeezed his hand for a long moment before letting go.
* * *
SMOKE WAS RISING from the grill. Culhane stepped over the dead body on the floor and, taking off his jean jacket, furtively pulled his weapon from the waistband of his jeans and hid it on a high shelf next to the grill. As he pulled on a clean white apron, he glanced toward the counter where he’d left Alexis.
Damn but she was beautiful. It was a stray crazy thought that made him realize what he had to lose. It was one thing for him to get himself killed. But he couldn’t bear the thought of anything happening to her. She wouldn’t be here right now if it weren’t for him. True, he’d tried to warn her, and she hadn’t trusted him. Not that he blamed her. Why would she trust him, given what all he’d kept from her—and she didn’t know the half of it?
But his...so-called wife, Jana Redfield, was the least of his problems right now, he told himself as he cleaned off the grill and got it ready to get serious about cooking. Yet at the back of his mind, he was trying to figure out how to get Alexis out of this mess, along with the innocent residents who’d thought they were just going to a quiet Sunday-morning breakfast.
* * *
SHIRLEY LANGER HAD been sitting in the booth across from Lars, wishing she’d never agreed to breakfast or anything else.
“It’s over between Tina and me and has been for a long time,” Lars had been saying, keeping his voice down. His living with Tina Mullen while sneaking out and seeing her had been a sticking point for months.
Shirley remembered the night he’d shown up half-drunk at her apartment behind the Sleepy Pine, the motel that she managed on the edge of Buckhorn. It wasn’t like she hadn’t known that he liked her and was interested, but he’d been with Tina for several years, worked for her parents and lived in Tina’s house. He had always seemed comfortable with that arrangement.
Until that night when she’d opened the door to him, and he’d poured his heart out to her. “Tina’s pregnant,” he’d said a year ago on her doorstep, upset and angry. “That baby she’s carrying, it can’t be mine. We’d been having problems for a while. No way is that baby mine, and she knows it.”
Shirley had comforted him, feeling badly for him because he was so hurt and confused. It made it worse that he had both work and residential ties to Tina’s family. Tina had begged him to stay at least until the baby was born. Lars had agreed grudgingly and begun spending more illicit time with Shirley.
Now the baby was two months old. Shirley had been waiting to see what would happen once the baby was born. Nothing had—until this morning when Lars had shown up at her apartment. He’d wanted to take her to breakfast. He’d said he was sick of hiding how he felt about her.
“I told Tina that I’m moving out,” Lars had said. “I thought you and I could stay in your place at the motel until we decide where we want to go, what we want to do.”
She’d said nothing—even now sitting here with him telling her over and over how he felt about her. She still stung from the looks they’d gotten from the locals when they’d walked in together. Everyone had to have known about their love affair, and yet this was the first time they’d come out together—only to find Tina, the baby and her mother Vi here in the café having breakfast.
Shirley had wanted to turn around and leave, but Lars wouldn’t hear of it.
Since they’d walked in together, Vi had been glaring holes into her. It hadn’t been that hard to ignore the woman. Tina and the baby, though, had been another matter. Tina had always been kind to her. She’d even invited her to her baby shower, although Shirley was pretty sure that was just to rub her face in it.
“You still don’t know for certain that the baby isn’t yours,” she’d said.
“Not you, too,” Lars had groaned. “I told you. I don’t need a DNA test. It’s why Tina doesn’t want me to take one, because she also knows the baby isn’t mine.” His voice had risen, and several people had turned to look at them.
He’d leaned across the table toward her and spoken more softly. “Shirley, I thought this was what you wanted. Do you still want a life with me or not?”
She’d been thinking about that when the three men had come in. She’d hardly noticed them. Instead, she’d felt the cold fall air rush in with them and yearned to get up and walk out of the establishment, leaving Buckhorn, leaving Lars Olson and this mess behind. She was sick of being the other woman.
Up until she’d heard the first gunshot, Shirley had been thinking that the only question was whether or not she had the strength to leave town, to start over, to go off on her own, to leave Lars.
* * *
AS THE INFANT screamed at the top of her lungs, Tina Mullen fumbled with the straps that held Chloe in the removable car seat, feeling her panic growing. She didn’t know what to do. The baby had been sleeping peacefully but had startled awake with a shriek at the sound of the first gunshot and only gotten louder with the second.
Her hands were shaking. She had to quiet her baby. She could hear the man called Gene approaching her booth. He’d already killed the cook, someone had said. If he got his hands on her precious little baby girl—
“Shut that damned baby up!” Gene yelled again, looming over the booth.
Tina finally got the straps undone and awkwardly picked up her daughter. She was all thumbs with the infant and had been since Chloe’s birth.
She felt out of her depth. The baby was so tiny, so fragile, so demanding. Nothing Tina did seemed to make Chloe happy. “I’m a terrible mother,” she’d wailed to her own mother recently.
Vi had pooh-poohed even the idea. “It’s just all new and different than carrying her around in your womb where you don’t have to do anything. Wait until she’s two. What am I saying? It’s not like there is a magic year when suddenly you’re finished raising your child. You’re a perfect example.”
Tina had groaned at what had sounded like the beginning of another lecture on having a baby out of wedlock. “Lars and I are practically married, Mother.”
“You’re a single mother,” Vi had snapped. “You might as well get used to it. Lars won’t be sticking around, which is just as well. He has no interest in being a father, and you knew that even before you got yourself pregnant.”
“You make it sound as if I used a turkey baster.”
“You’d have been better off if you had with some stranger,” Vi had said and then huffed. “Give me the baby. You act like she’s made of glass.” Her mother had taken Chloe roughly, but the baby hadn’t even whimpered. That her daughter preferred Vi over her didn’t help and seemed to say it all.
Like now. Chloe continued to scream no matter how Tina tried to soothe her. “Please, baby, please,” she said, shushing her. “Please stop crying.”
* * *
BEFORE THE FIRST GUNSHOT, Lars had been professing his undying love to Shirley. But once the baby had started crying, he’d been distracted. When he heard the gunman threaten the baby, Shirley had seen the look on his face.
“Lars is like a baby whisperer,” one of her friends had told her. “Tina says when she’s at her wits’ end, he will take little Chloe, and the baby quiets right down.”
Here in the small café, the baby continued to scream. Shirley saw the panic on Tina’s face as the armed man headed for her and the baby, fury reddening his face.
He was almost to the table when one of the men with him yelled, “Hey, Gene, come on. It’s just a baby.”
Gene didn’t seem to hear. As he reached the circular booth’s table where Tina sat with her baby and mother, Vi jumped up to stop him.
“Get the hell out of the way, old woman,” the man bellowed, knocking her back into the booth. Tina frantically tried to get Chloe to stop squalling, but the infant seemed to wail even louder.
“You should go to her,” Shirley said, turning to Lars. She had no doubt what the gunman might do if he got his hands on the baby. Lars looked at her as if he misunderstood. “She needs you. Tina and the baby need you. Go!”
“Shirley?” But Lars was already on his feet and rushing toward Tina and the baby as Vi struggled to right herself in the booth.