Westin’s Wyoming

by Alice Sharpe

  The news moved on to the next story and Pierce turned to look at Analise. She was still standing, fingertips braced on the cutting block as though they supported her entire weight.

  “Your driver?”

  “I didn’t know his name,” she said, eyelashes fluttering against pale cheeks, voice raised to be heard over the volume of the television. “I thought he didn’t come that morning because he was lazy.”

  “Did you call the agency he worked for?”

  “Personally? No, of course not. Someone must have, though.”

  Pierce took a step around the island. “Princess—”

  “Who would do such a thing? Why?”

  He shook his head. “You’d better call the Seattle Police Department.”

  “My mobile phone doesn’t work here.”

  “There’s one on the wall over there but the unit in the office would be more private.”

  “I don’t know anything about Mr. Falstead,” she added, but there was a resigned quality to her voice.

  “Still,” he said gently.

  “It’s my duty to check in with them. That’s what you’re saying. And you’re right, of course. I should do it soon before they contact my father. Anyway, maybe his murder has nothing to do with…me.”

  He gently caught her wrist as she turned away and she looked back at him, her gaze darting to his hand. Releasing her, he added, “I think you’d be better off facing the facts.”

  “What facts?”

  “Someone threatened you, someone killed your driver and someone injured your bodyguard. The people with the best access to you in Seattle are here right now in this house. They traveled with you.”

  “No,” she said, but her eyes revealed she’d already grasped the truth of this statement.

  At that instant, the television went dead, plunging them into tomblike silence.

  They house had just lost electricity.

  Chapter Six

  Within minutes of the power going out, everyone had gathered in the living area, staking out real estate near the massive stone hearth in which a fire blazed. It was certainly no colder inside than it had been ten minutes before and yet they all behaved as though the temperature had taken a sudden drop.

  Despite the deteriorating weather, there was ample light in the room because of the tall windows. Still, Bierta had managed to find a gloomy corner in which to stand. She’d added a bulky gray sweater to her somber uniform and held it closed with both arms wrapped around her torso. Her gaze darted from one face to the other but seemed to linger on Mr. Vaughn the longest.

  Not that he seemed to notice. He stood closest to the fire, breathing on his hands, watchful in his unassuming manner.

  Analise recalled the noise she and Pierce had heard at the kitchen door right before noticing the news report on the television. They’d been talking about the real reason she had insisted on coming to Wyoming.

  Had one of the people in this room been on the other side of that door? Had they been eavesdropping, had they heard her mention her mother had a secret? Thank goodness she hadn’t gone into details; by default, a queen’s secret was a potential political landmine. Still, Analise should have made sure her bodyguard was protecting the door.

  From under her eyelashes, a trick she’d perfected after spending years thwarting the paparazzi, she glanced at each face of her countrymen. Did one of them want her dead? That would mean one of them was a traitor and it was impossible to believe such a person could have hoodwinked her father’s security team.

  “Folks, this happens every winter, several times a winter for that matter,” Pierce announced. He was not only half a head taller than anyone else in the room besides the general, he also carried himself in such a way that every head turned his direction. “It’s what I was trying to warn you about when you arrived.”

  “You told us we had twenty-four hours,” General Kaare huffed, his ramrod-straight form still encased in olive serge, ribbons and medals arranged precisely as always. Analise cast him an annoyed frown—Pierce had gone out of his way to dissuade them from staying and it was her fault they were in this situation. Surely the general realized it.

  The front door burst open and as one unit they all turned to face the newcomer.

  The cowhand from the airfield, the older man with the bowed legs, strode into the entry. As he continued into the living area, Toby trotted along behind.

  “I bet you a buck one of them pines over in the grove dropped a branch on the power line,” the older man said, addressing Pierce. “It happened a week or two ago. Power company got it fixed by the end of the day.”

  “The…the end of the day?” Vaughn sputtered. “But the storm—”

  “There’s a generator out in that building you can barely make out in this storm,” Pierce said, gesturing toward a window. All Analise could see through the falling snow was a hint of green metal. “If the power isn’t on by dark, we’ll start it up. Anyway, by then we’ll be out eating grub with the cows, right, Tex?”

  Toby tipped the brim of his blue felt hat with a fingertip and tried to wink.

  “I do not plan on being out in this weather,” Mr. Vaughn said.

  “I suggest you change your plans,” Pierce said. “I want everyone where I can see them.”

  “Really—”

  “But right now, the princess needs to use a phone. Like I explained earlier to the general, I have a couple of men detailed to keep an eye on the princess—on all of you for that matter. Can’t risk any of you wandering away in the snowstorm and getting lost.”

  “I do not wander—” the general began, but Pierce waved him off.

  “Furthermore, I want everyone to know that as far as I’m concerned the threat to Princess Analise is probably coming from one of you. When I say I’m watching, I mean it.”

  “This is absurd—”

  “As far as you’re concerned, this is my ranch and that’s the way it’s going down,” Pierce said, once again cutting the general off. Analise noticed he didn’t mention the fate of the driver. She sure as heck wasn’t going to.

  Without missing a beat, Pierce continued. “Jamie, you’ve got the only cell that gets coverage out here on a reliable basis. Call the power company on your cell and keep an eye on the boy. And where in the hell is that bodyguard?”

  Jamie cleared his throat. “Last I saw he was checking out your dad’s cabin.”

  “Oh, brother,” Pierce said. “Okay, I’ll take care of that next.”

  “What about me?” Mr. Vaughn asked.

  Pierce’s voice lowered to a growly, impatient tone. “Stay here and keep the fire going. The princess’s maid can help you. So can the general. Firewood is accessible through the door on the hearth. Don’t burn the place down.”

  While the general gathered himself for what would surely be another indignant protest, Bierta flung her hand toward Analise. “I will go with the princess,” she said.

  “Thank you, Bierta, but no,” Analise said quickly. “This is a private call.”

  “But ma’am—”

  Pierce clapped his hands together. “So, that’s settled. Come with me, Princess.” Analise followed him from the room. She was used to her actions being scrutinized but the way the five sets of eyes watched her now gave her the creeps. She was glad to enter the paneled room off the living area.

  “The phone’s over there—” Pierce began, gesturing toward the massive oak desk behind which hung a painting of a weathered wood building. Through the window on the east wall, she could see it was snowing more heavily than before.

  “Do you mind if I stay while you make the call?” he asked as she walked past him.

  “Don’t you want to run interference between your father and my bodyguard?”

  “It can wait a minute.”

  “I don’t mind,” she told him. The truth was she was spooked and she welcomed his presence.

  The call took several minutes to go through. Once connected with the right office, she found the detecti
ve she needed to talk to was unavailable. Assured he would call back the next day, Analise left the ranch number and glanced across the room at Pierce.

  He was staring at her, his gray eyes intense. As she opened her mouth to explain the call, he spoke.

  “Who are you going to marry?”

  Not what she expected. “His name is Ricard Molinaix.”

  “Successful?”

  “Yes, very.”

  Pierce turned to look out the window. “You’ve been faithful to him?”

  “I don’t see—”

  He turned around, holding up both hands. “I’m just trying to make sense of all this.”

  “Ricard would never go to such extremes for any reason, least of all me.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “You are exactly the kind of woman that pushes a man to extremes. Beautiful, rich—”

  “Don’t waste your time worrying about Ricard.”

  “Remember how I told you about watching someone when they speak?”

  “Yes.”

  “I watched you tell me about your mother’s lost belongings. There’s something you’re not telling me.”

  “Well, of course there is. I can’t disclose the exact nature of the…items. Not just because of you, but because of the possibility someone might overhear me talking about it.”

  “Like someone did when we were in the kitchen,” he stated bluntly.

  “Yes. Like that.”

  “The eavesdropper might have been anyone and that anyone might have been innocent. Maybe they paused because they heard voices in conversation and didn’t want to interrupt.”

  “Maybe,” she agreed. “But given everything, I don’t think so.”

  “I don’t, either. And you can’t think of anyone who wants to harm you except for a political faction back in Chatioux who is using threats against you to control your father?”

  “That’s correct.”

  He put out a hand. “All right then. I think it’s time to find out what’s going on with your bodyguard. Get your coat. You’re coming with me.”

  As she left to find out what Bierta had done with her jacket, she saw Pierce work the combination on the locked gun cabinet. He was withdrawing a handgun as she left the room.

  BRAD HARLEY, THE bodyguard, was standing outside the house under the front portico, smoking a cigarette, sunglasses firmly in place. He slipped something silver into his pocket—a gun. Analise wasn’t fond of guns, but seeing the bodyguard take his job seriously reassured her.

  “None of the princess’s party is to go in or out of the house except the kid,” Pierce said briskly. “And don’t leave this post, okay?”

  With thumb and forefinger, Harley pulled the cigarette from between his lips. “I don’t take orders from you,” he said as he blew smoke.

  Analise cleared her throat. “Do as he says, Mr. Harley.”

  The two men glared at one another until Pierce led the way around the covered decks and down a short flight of stairs. They hurried through the snow until climbing another flight of stairs, this one leading to a smaller log structure. Analise was glad for Pierce’s steadying hand on her elbow as the freezing snow made footing treacherous.

  The housekeeper opened the door before they could knock and stepped outside, Bonnie close on her heels. The dog nuzzled Analise’s hand before dashing off through the snow to the barn. Pauline closed the door behind her.

  “Power out in the main house, too? I was just coming back to the house to check the stew. Good thing the new stove uses gas.”

  “Jamie’s calling the electric company,” Pierce told her. “On another subject, do you know if the princess’s bodyguard talked to my father?”

  “He came by but I wouldn’t let him in. He said he had to know exactly who’s on the ranch. Like anyone knows that what with all the people coming and going. I told him to stay away.” With a quick but reverent glance at Analise, she added, “Hope that’s okay, Your Highness.”

  “It’s fine.”

  “We need to see Dad,” Pierce said.

  The housekeeper’s gaze strayed to Analise then flashed back to Pierce. “Are you sure that’s wise?”

  “No,” Pierce said. “But it’s a safe place for her to be right now and that’s what matters.”

  “Safe? What do you mean?”

  “She’s in danger,” he said, trying to hurry this little talk along and get out of the cold.

  “In danger?” Pauline repeated, looking over their shoulders at the near blizzard raging behind them. “From what?”

  “We’re not sure, but it’s a who, not a what.”

  “Wait a moment,” Analise said. “Is that why you brought me out here? I don’t need someone to watch over me.”

  He pinned her with his gray eyes. “The hell you don’t. I’m not leaving you alone in that house with those people, not after what we heard and saw—you know what I mean. Anyway, Pauline has things to do for the cookout and Dad gets lonely. You’ll see. It’ll be great.” He ruined this by adding, “Just don’t mention my mother to him.”

  “Pierce—”

  “What does she know about your mother?” Pauline snapped as she bunched the collar of her coat at her throat. She darted a glance at Analise. The sudden change in her voice and manner was alarming.

  “My mother went to school with Pierce’s mother,” Analise was quick to say.

  “It’s no big deal,” Pierce added. “You know how Dad is.”

  Pauline’s compressed lips announced she wasn’t entirely sure she believed either one of them, which aroused Analise’s curiosity. Was it possible this woman was jealous of Melissa Browning? Had she even met Melissa or had she come here after Melissa left?

  “I’d better stay—”

  “What I would appreciate you doing,” Pierce interrupted, “is going back inside the house and seeing to the rest of our guests.”

  Pauline stared hard at Pierce for a moment and then nodded curtly. “Don’t you upset him,” she scolded softly. “I know how you two are with each other.”

  Pierce held the door open and Analise scooted inside the overheated cabin, glad to get out of the cold. She understood why Pierce was parking her out here away from the others, but did he have to be so high handed about it?

  THIS WAS EITHER a really smart move or a really dumb one. Pierce wasn’t sure which, just that the thought of leaving Analise alone with Vaughn and Kaare and that creepy maid was more than he could bring himself to do. He couldn’t drag her out to the barn and around, not dressed as she was in silk and diamonds, so that left plan B—his father.

  The cabin had been built years before as guest quarters, back in the days when Pierce’s mother had still been on the ranch. She’d loved to throw parties and many times, because of the ranch’s remote location, the guests had stayed overnight.

  Until his father hurt himself, Adam had lived in the cabin alone, but its single-story construction meant it was easier for Birch to manage during his recovery so he’d moved in, too. Adam had recently started his own place closer to the lake though Pierce had only seen it from a distance.

  He found his father in front of the largest window in the place, seated in a wheelchair with a cast on his leg. Due to closed drapes, the room was dark except for the flickering fire in the grate and pool of light that surrounded the old man thanks to a kerosene lamp burning atop a wooden table at his side.

  The closed drapes surprised—and alarmed—Pierce. His father wasn’t the kind to sit inside and let the ranch work around him. Even injured, he kept a hand in the day-to-day business of running the place or at least he had before. This development was a surprise to Pierce and he suspected concern for their father was why Cody had really asked Pierce to drop everything and come home.

  Birch Westin wore his steel-gray hair long and combed back from his high forehead. He had always been a big, gruff man’s man, larger than life, so sure of himself he seldom suffered a moment’s hesitation, and his looks reflected it. In the past, he’d been a man as brow
n as sun-scorched grass in late August, skin deeply etched by the unrelenting elements with a stride that covered ground like a Mack truck on a runaway hill.

  But this year he’d been out of commission thanks to the busted patella which was now held together with pins and wire, plus he’d suffered two post-operative infections. That meant indoor time, hence a paler complexion. Pierce wasn’t sure if it was the change in his coloring or the weeks of illness, but his dad looked frail sitting there.

  “Who’s that with you?” Birch asked, closing the book that had been open on his lap.

  “This is Ms. Emille,” Pierce said, suspecting his father was about as likely to recognize Princess Analise’s face or name as he was that of a rock star. Hopefully Analise wouldn’t mind he’d dropped her title from the introduction. “Ms. Emille, Birch Westin.”

  She held out a hand and his father stared at it. “How in the world did you get here in this storm?”

  “We came before the storm, by helicopter, sir,” she replied as her hand drifted back to her side. “And, please, call me Analise.”

  “Helicopter?”

  “She and her friends needed a place to wait out the storm,” Pierce said. “The pilot saw the ranch and landed. I was hoping you’d entertain her while I go out to the barn.”

  “How many of ’em?”

  “How many of them what?”

  A narrowing of the steely eyes. “How many friggin’ people are parading around the ranch in this storm? I thought I heard a kid whooping it up a while ago and someone knocked at the door but Pauline sent them away.”

  “Six in all,” Analise volunteered. “I’m sorry if we’ve bothered you.”

  “You haven’t bothered me,” he said, flicking her a glance. When he frowned the way he was right now, his lips all but disappeared. Pierce swallowed a sharp retort and added, “They’ll be gone tomorrow.”