Jackson shrugged. “I tried to talk her out of it. I told her that she should divide the land up among the three of you—her blood relations.”
B.J. shook his head. “We don’t deserve it.” What had any of them done for their aunt Maddie? Nothing. It was only Brock—with his kind heart and willingness to rebel against their mother’s wishes—who had bothered to get to know the aunt who had lived in such close proximity to them all these years.
“That’s not why she’s doing this,” Jackson insisted. “She doesn’t blame any of you for the past. She says there are other reasons she wants me to have the land. Reasons that will become clear in time.” He shook his head. “I know, it sounds damn mysterious.”
“Maybe she’s losing her marbles?” Corb ventured.
“Not Maddie Turner.” Farley’s tone was firm. “I’ve been her vet for as long as I’ve been practicing, and I assure you that woman is as sharp as they come. Though I do believe she was too kindhearted to succeed in the beef business.”
“Can you come up with a rational explanation for what she’s doing, then?” Jackson said. “Because I sure as hell can’t.”
“You could always say no,” Corb pointed out.
“And have her spend her last months alone and impoverished? I don’t have a fortune saved up, but it’s enough to make sure she has groceries and a warm house for her final days. Even so, I’m going to have to sell some of the land in order to build up the herd.” Jackson glanced at Corb. “You interested in buying?”
“I’m not sure how Mom would feel about that.”
“Well, if Olive doesn’t want the land, then I’ve got another buyer in mind. A guy by the name of Sam O’Neil has been purchasing property in the Coffee Creek area lately, including the tract on the other side of Silver Creek. I’m sure he’d be glad to snap up another hundred acres.”
B.J. put up a hand to stop Corb from answering. As the oldest, he felt that he should have some say in this, too. “I vote we don’t upset Mom with this. It’s such a small parcel of land. If you’ve got a buyer lined up, then go ahead and sell it.”
He took a deep breath. “And if Maddie wants to leave you her land, then that’s her business. Agreed?”
He turned from Corb to Cassidy, and they both nodded.
“But the news about Maddie’s health—that’s something else. When we were kids it made sense for us to respect our parents’ wishes as far as our relationship with our aunt was concerned. But we’re adults now. It’s time all of us considered our past actions and whether they were right or wrong. If we want to make amends, sounds like we’d better do it soon.”
* * *
THE NEXT AFTERNOON, after a long day of reacquainting himself with the business end of the quarter-horse breeding operation, B.J. got in his truck, intending to drive over to Silver Creek Ranch and introduce himself to his aunt. His only hesitation was his fear of having his actions misinterpreted. He didn’t want Maddie thinking he was making a last-ditch play for a share of her inheritance.
As he was mulling all of this over in his mind, he ended up driving in a completely different direction than he’d planned. It was five-thirty when he pulled up to Savannah Moody’s acreage.
The place was a mess. It always had been.
The house—a prefab log structure in need of staining—had been situated in an unattractive hollow, surrounded by a scramble of brush and the occasional ponderosa pine. About two hundred yards from the house, a couple of abandoned old cars were rusting out in the open. Once, there’d been a junk heap next to the cars, as well. That, at least, had been cleared away in the past few years.
Savannah’s SUV was parked by the side of the house, so he knew she was home. He didn’t realize she was outside, though, until he almost stumbled over her. She was on the other side of a clump of overgrown lilacs, her back to him as she crouched beside a neatly tended perennial garden, pulling out weeds.
He was taken aback by how sexy she looked in a simple pair of shorts and a tank top, her long hair tied in a loose ponytail.
He stopped the moment he spotted her, considering how to let her know he was here without startling her.
He should have known better.
“Next time call first, okay?” She stood up, brushed the dirt from her knees and only then turned to face him. She was frowning.
Even her frown was sexy. How did she do that?
“So you agree there should be a next time.” He hadn’t intended to flirt with her. But that’s how his comment came out.
“Only if you have a good reason. As the county sheriff, it’s my job to be available to any citizen who needs me.”
He wondered what she’d say if he told her he needed her, all right. Real bad. But he decided not to push his luck. Trying not to ogle her legs, he shifted his gaze to the flowers, many of which were in full spring bloom. “This is nice. You’d never guess it was here from the road.”
“Mom’s private little piece of heaven. I went to visit her after work today. Did she ask how I was doing or about Hunter or Regan? Oh, no. But she did make me promise that I’d weed her perennial bed for her.”
“Parents. Can’t live with them. Can’t get born without them.”
She almost smiled. “Sometimes, I swear, my mother makes a test tube look warm and caring.”
He had moments like that with his own mother, so he could relate. But Savannah was already shaking her head.
“Did I just say that? It’s been a bad week....” She picked up a bucket full of weeds and started carrying it farther up the hill that rose beyond the house and what passed as a front yard.
Since she hadn’t booted him off her land, and he liked being around her, B.J. followed. As they crested the hill he took in an amazing view of mountains and forest, with a sparkling creek running through the foreground.
“Hell. I forgot how pretty it is up here.”
When they were younger, he’d spent a fair amount of time on the Moodys’ land, hanging out with Savannah and Hunter. He’d been so crazy about her at that time that he’d even been willing to do her chores, just for the chance to be near her. Since she’d had almost full responsibility for her younger sister, he’d embraced that role, too, becoming a surrogate older brother to the little munchkin.
“Is Regan home?”
“No.”
The answer was curt and he wondered if something was wrong. Savannah shifted the pail from one hand to the other. He wanted to offer to carry it for her, but knew she’d snap at him if he did.
“It is a million-dollar view,” she finally said, “or at least four hundred thousand.” She went to a compost heap tucked behind a grove of aspen and dumped out the weeds.
“Why do you say that?”
“Four hundred thou?”
He nodded.
“’Cause that’s what I’ve been offered. Someone by the name of Sam O’Neil.”
He’d heard that name just yesterday. “Sounds like the same guy who wants to buy a piece of Silver Creek Ranch.” He imagined an aerial view of the region. At least two midsize ranches lay between the far border of his aunt’s property and Savannah’s place. Was this O’Neil buying up random parcels of land? Or planning to piece them together, eventually?
If so, he had to have mighty deep pockets.
“Are you seriously considering selling?” He’d been raised to believe that land and family were one and the same. Preserving the past meant securing the future. You might as well consider selling a child as a portion of your land.
“If Regan gets accepted to med school—yes.”
He saw determination in the set of her jaw. But there was a note of desperation in her voice that he suspected she hadn’t intended for him to hear. “Where will you live?”
“I guess I’ll rent a place in town.”
He waved a hand at the view. “You wouldn’t miss all this?”
“I would and I wouldn’t. It’s a beautiful parcel of land, but my family has never made much of it. In some ways living here is a constant reminder of all of our failures.”
She started walking down the hill toward the creek, and again he followed, admiring her long-legged stride and the graceful way her feet, in a tattered pair of sneakers, found purchase on the uneven ground.
She stopped to point out footings for a home that had never been built. “That was supposed to be the bed-and-breakfast.”
“What happened? Did your dad lose interest in the project?”
“Probably. Or maybe he couldn’t put together the financing. He was always having grand ideas—usually between gambling and drinking binges. Those old cars out front? He and Hunter were going to fix them up and sell them for fortunes. Now they’re eyesores. One day I’ll have to hire a tow truck and have them hauled to the dump. And over there?”
She pointed to a field so overgrown you could hardly tell it had once been tilled.
“That was going to be the vineyard.” Again, she shook her head. “In the heart of cattle country. Can you imagine?”
It was his turn to shake his head. But what he really wanted was to wrap his arms around her waist and feel her lean back against him, the way she once had.
Abruptly she turned away from the field. “Why did you come here tonight?”
“I left home heading someplace completely different. Ended up here.” He stared into her eyes, wondering if she still felt anything for him. Yes, it had been a long time. But his attraction to her—sexual, but far more than that—was stronger than ever.
“What do you want?” Her voice was quiet, but edged with desperation.
“What I always wanted.” He took a step forward and reached for her chin. He couldn’t let her look away from him. He needed to see the dark pools of her eyes and hope that some hint of her true feelings would be revealed. “You.”
* * *
B.J. WAS MESSING with her. Big-time. It wasn’t fair that he could do it so easily. One touch from his fingers. A simple word spoken so quietly. You.
Her body had turned to fire when he said that. She’d longed to reach for him, or even take a single step in his direction. She could tell that was all that he was waiting for. One little sign.
But did he really want her? And in what way? She’d heard how the available women in Coffee Creek talked about him when he was home. How sexy he was, how strong and handsome. The general consensus was, if B. J. Lambert crooked his finger, they’d come running. It was probably like that for him everywhere he traveled. And he traveled to a lot of places.
“Why me? I’m sure you have your pick of women.”
“There’s no one serious in my life. Hasn’t been for—” He hesitated a beat. “A long time.”
He looked at her steadily. Intently. She remembered a time when she would have been certain it meant that he was telling the truth.
“I’m just the girl that wouldn’t sleep with you. That’s what you want, isn’t it? Another notch on your belt?”
“My belt has plenty of notches. More than I need.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and narrowed his eyes. “You don’t trust anyone, do you?”
“Professionally—no.” Objectivity was important when you worked for the law. Listen to what people have to say. But trust the evidence. Facts never lie.
“What about privately?”
She thought about the people in her life. Once, she would have said that she trusted Regan. But since her sister had taken off on her road trip with Murray, she was no longer certain.
“I don’t see the distinction. I know a lot of people in this county. But when you’re the sheriff, you’re treated differently.” It had been the same when she was a deputy, too. Even with the law-abiding friends she’d grown up and gone to school with, there was now a fine line that precluded true intimacy and trust.
“Can I take that to mean there isn’t a man in your life?”
“That’s none of your business.” She picked up the pail she’d been carrying earlier, needing some sort of barrier between them. “It’s time for my dinner. You’d better hit the road.”
“You’re not going to invite me in?” His voice was gently mocking.
“For what? A frozen entrée heated in the microwave? I’m sure you can do better.”
“Maybe I can. And so can you. If you invite me in, I’ll cook you something.”
Savannah was appalled by how badly she wanted to say yes. She hadn’t realized until that moment how lonely she felt.
Regan’s betrayal—and that was how she saw it, no matter how unfair it sounded—had been the last, unbearable loss.
But turning to B.J. for comfort wasn’t the solution. At least not until this Travis McBride situation was resolved. But by then he’d probably have left town for his next rodeo.
“I don’t have much in the fridge, just eggs, milk and bread. If you’re hungry, you’d do better to drive into town.” She started back toward the house, trying not to feel embarrassed by the peeling paint and the torn screen on the back door. She was just reaching for the handle to let herself in, when she heard the sound of a truck.
B.J. had moved up the side of the house, where he had a view of the road. “Looks like you have another visitor.”
She sighed. “Must be my lucky day.”
* * *
B.J. STAYED A STEP behind Savannah as she changed courses and went around the house. She hesitated for a moment when she saw the vehicle—a forest-green Jeep with the top down. Inside was a woman with brown hair, cut to her chin, wearing sunglasses and talking on her cell phone.
As he and Savannah moved closer, she terminated the call.
“I’ve got to go. I’ll be in touch later.” She put down the phone and climbed out from the driver’s seat, offering Savannah her hand even before she was close enough for Savannah to shake it.
The woman was in her late forties, B.J. guessed. While her clothing was practical—jeans and a tailored blouse—her makeup, and expensively understated jewelry, gave her a well-groomed appearance.
“Sheriff Moody. Good to see you again.”
He didn’t think Savannah returned the sentiment. She just nodded.
The woman slid her glasses up to rest on the top of her head. Her eyes, wide and thickly lashed, gave him a quick study. Before she had a chance to say a word, he introduced himself.
“B. J. Lambert. I take it you’re the investigator from L.A.—June Savage.” He didn’t word it as a question, because it wasn’t. He’d seen her Californian plates, and Savannah’s wary reaction had told him the rest.
“I am. And how convenient to find you here. You were with Hunter Moody when that barn ‘caught’ on fire, weren’t you?” Her eyebrows, as well as the tone of her voice, made it clear that she wasn’t buying the official version of events.
She turned to Savannah. “Can we go inside to talk?”
He could sense Savannah’s reluctance, even before she replied, “You should have made an appointment to speak with me at my office. But there are some chairs on the front porch, and I guess I can spare you a few minutes now.”
The porch was actually the one place on the property that looked inviting. The wooden boards had been stained a mossy-green and there were four wicker chairs with plump cushions sitting in a line next to a big urn of colorful flowers.
Savannah didn’t offer refreshments—not so much as a glass of water—and when it came time to sit on one of the chairs, she perched herself on the very edge.
“I don’t want to waste your time.” June’s eyes were doing a lot of dancing between B.J. and Savannah. He could tell she was trying to assess their relationship. Good luck to her with that one. He didn’t have a
clue where he really stood with Savannah himself.
Her words had been very clear. She had no time for him.
But her eyes had been sending a different message entirely.
At some point he was going to have to sort out the mixed signals and convince her that he was back in Coffee Creek to stay and she could trust him again. But right now, he’d better focus all his attention on the lady from L.A. She was sharp, he guessed, and he didn’t want to underestimate the danger that she posed.
All he needed now was for Hunter to end up in trouble again. Nothing would get Savannah more riled than that.
“I just got back from having a look at the barn on Silver Creek land.”
“I hope you had permission from the owner,” Savannah said quickly.
“Sure did. Lovely lady, Maddie Turner, though she didn’t seem to be feeling very well.”
B.J. felt a jab from his conscience at this. No getting sidetracked tomorrow. Right after his morning chores he was paying his aunt that visit.
“Miss Turner said they haven’t used the barn since the incident,” June elaborated, “and I was welcome to poke around—as long as I was careful that I didn’t hurt myself since she doesn’t have insurance.”
B.J. immediately thought of the broken ladder. He glanced at Savannah and could tell that she was thinking the same thing.
June’s eyes narrowed and B.J. realized she was following the silent interplay between them. “I was surprised to see how far it was from the main road.”
Damn. She was even sharper than he’d thought.
“Makes a person wonder how a boy from L.A. could have found his way there. He certainly couldn’t see it from the road.”
“I wasn’t the sheriff at the time, obviously, but yesterday I took a look at that barn myself,” Savannah said calmly. “And I wondered the same thing.”
“Must have been some local boys who took him out there to rob him.”
“We have no evidence to support that.”
“What about the watch?”
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