“Mom? Do you have a minute?”
“I’m on my way to a meeting of the historical-site committee. Work is starting this week and I want to make sure they follow our plans to the letter.”
She sounded like her normal self, only her voice was brittle and she wore sunglasses so he couldn’t read her expression.
“Well, I won’t keep you. But I did want to say that I’m sorry for what I said earlier.”
“I’ve already forgiven you, son. I know you felt I had no right to say those things about Savannah and you were just lashing out. But I appreciate the apology.”
Standing alone by the big SUV, she looked so small and defenseless that he felt even worse for the things he’d said.
“That’s no excuse for me being a jerk. Sometimes I don’t think I fully appreciate how lucky I was to have a mother and father like you and Dad. You gave us kids everything we needed and a whole lot more.”
It was part of what set him apart from Savannah. She always claimed that he couldn’t know what it was like to grow up with parents who couldn’t take care of themselves, let alone their children. And the older he got, the more he realized how much difference that made.
“It’s good to hear you say that.”
He moved closer. “I’d give you a hug but you’re all dressed up.”
“A kiss would be nice.” She turned her cheek to him and he gave her a warm peck.
“I love you, Mom.”
“You’re a good son, B.J. I love you, too, and I’m very proud of you.”
Watching her drive off, B.J. wondered if she’d still feel that way after he’d made his official statement to the new investigator.
Chapter Thirteen
Some cattle were missing from the Bar K Ranch east of Coffee Creek, and Savannah was actually happy to field the call. She couldn’t have coped with sitting around in the office today doing paperwork when she had so many worries on her mind.
Number one was Hunter. She’d arranged a meeting for him with a defense attorney in Lewistown, and he’d set off in his truck half an hour ago. She’d wanted to go with him, but he’d brushed that offer away, telling her that he was picking up Hanna White and she would be with him for moral support.
“Not much you could do for me, anyway,” he’d said. “Like B.J. said this morning, all I have to do is tell the truth, stick to the facts and not embellish anything.”
The “not embellishing” part would be difficult for Hunter. But Savannah could only go so far to protect her brother. If he chose to have Hanna by his side, instead of his sister, that was his decision to make.
Besides, her regard for Hanna was growing. She was certainly impressed that Hanna had been able to convince Hunter to come home. Facing the music had never been his strong suit before.
Savannah arrived at the Bar K an hour after they’d made their call, and she could tell middle-aged rancher Wade Kincaid was impressed.
“You made good time.”
“I don’t like the idea of a cow rustler moving into our county. You say you’re missing four yearlings?” The barbed-wire fence had been cut and she could see tire tracks right up to the opening.
“Yup. I figure he loaded them up there.” He pointed to the break in the fence. Just beyond the gap, about twenty Black Angus, some with spring calves, were watching curiously.
“Branded?”
“You bet.”
She took pictures of the crime scene and made molds of the tire tracks. Then she went up to one of the cows and got a picture of the brand. All the while Wade watched thoughtfully.
She wondered if he’d heard any of the local gossip. Hopefully if she did a good job here, he would disregard it if he had.
“Those tracks were fresh,” she said. “The cattle were probably stolen last night. You just noticed them missing this morning?”
“Yeah. Ruby and I were out checking fences.” He nodded at a stunning bloodred bay tied to a tree on the other side of the fence. “Never expected to run into this sort of trouble.”
Savannah pulled out the paperwork next, guiding Wade through the forms, then getting his signature.
“We’ll put this in the database and alert the sale barns. But I’ll also be checking with your neighbors to see if anyone noticed strange vehicles on the road and also to warn them to watch their own herds.”
Once their business was wrapped up, Wade shook her hand and his parting words confirmed her worst fears. “I don’t care what anyone says, you do a damn fine job. Keep up the good work.”
* * *
I DON’T CARE what anyone says. Wade’s words stayed with Savannah all day long. They were eerily similar to what B.J. had said to her not twenty-four hours earlier.
But it was easy for them to say, wasn’t it? No one was questioning whether Wade Kincaid was a good rancher or B. J. Lambert a good cowboy.
She was the one under the microscope here. Always had been. Always would be.
Part of it was the nature of her job. She could have kept on as a deputy sheriff. Getting reelected wouldn’t be an issue then.
But she’d wanted the job precisely because of the respectability that came with it. Only maybe she’d been kidding herself. If people were already talking about her, how much respect had she had in the first place?
Savannah worked through lunch, taking only a ten-minute break to get her mail. Burt Snow, the postmaster, gave her a curious look but didn’t say much other than hello. Burt was a quiet, middle-aged man who generally kept to himself, especially since his divorce a few years ago from Tabitha, the librarian.
Savannah pulled a flyer, a letter from the University of Oregon and a postcard out of her slot.
She turned over the letter from the university a few times. Her sister had given her permission to look at anything related to her med-school applications. She took a deep breath and opened the envelope.
We regret to inform you...
Damn. This was the second rejection this summer.
She read the postcard from Washington next.
Having so much fun. Our capital is unbelievable!
Maybe Regan had been smart to go on this trip, after all. She only had one school left to hear from. What were the odds the news would be positive?
Savannah, who usually had so much faith in her little sister’s abilities, couldn’t find it in herself to be hopeful anymore.
She said goodbye to Burt, then went back to her office. At one-thirty Haley brought her a sandwich—the daily special from the Cinnamon Stick.
“You need to eat, boss.”
“Thanks.” She barely lifted her head from her paperwork. “Heard anything about those stolen yearlings?”
“Not yet.”
She could sense Haley waiting, as if she had something else to talk about. “Any calls from Paul Corrigan or the state investigator?”
Haley shook her head. “What’s going to happen with that? Is it true that they might try your brother and B. J. Lambert for mitigated homicide?”
Oh, hell. Here it was. The gossip had even infiltrated her own office.
“It’s out of my hands. But I can’t see them having enough evidence for that.”
It was true. The evidence was paltry. But still, she would have appreciated a call from Paul or Rex Harris to keep her in the loop. She was longing to check in with her brother, as well, but since he didn’t have a cell phone, she supposed she’d have to wait until later that night.
Assuming he came home, that was.
B.J. called her around five. She had to admit it was nice to hear his voice.
“Let’s go out on a real date,” he suggested.
She was tempted. “On a Monday night?”
“All the better. The restaurants won’t be busy and we’ll get in witho
ut a reservation.”
“Very funny. The Green Verandah doesn’t even take reservations.”
“I was thinking we’d go to Lewistown.”
She was touched that he wanted to take her someplace special. But it wasn’t a good idea. “I need to stick close to home tonight. I’m hoping to find out how things went for Hunter with the lawyer.”
B.J. hesitated, then said, “Fair enough. Green Verandah it is. Can I pick you up at seven?”
Savannah did some quick math. She needed time to visit her mom for half an hour, then go home and shower and get ready. For a change, she wanted to dress up a little. Wear a pretty sundress and even shoes with a heel.
“Seven would be fine.”
The sheriff badge and cowboy hat would be staying home tonight. She might even blow-dry her hair.
* * *
“WOW, WOW AND WOW.”
B.J.’s reaction was everything she could have hoped for. Savannah came down the stairs from the porch as soon as she heard his truck. He was already in her yard, waiting for her, and he placed his hands on her shoulders as he kissed her hello.
Then took a moment for his eyes to tell her just how much he liked her new look.
“I can’t remember the last time I saw you in a dress.”
“High school graduation?” They’d both gone without a date, since they’d broken up two months previously. Savannah remembered it as a colorless night. She’d still been pretty devastated, as Hunter had only recently run off to the rodeo.
Days after the ceremony and dance, B.J. had left town for his first rodeo, too.
After that, she’d seen him rarely.
“That’s not a great memory for me,” B.J. said.
“Me, either.”
“Hopefully we can start making some better ones now that we’re together again.” He gave her a smile that made her heart do a happy dance. This was the best she’d felt all day. With B.J. by her side, none of her problems seemed insurmountable.
At the Green Verandah they sat outside in wicker chairs and ordered the basket of ribs to share, with coleslaw on the side, rather than fries.
“I love these long summer evenings. It’s fun people-watching.” Just checking out the traffic in and out of the Lonesome Spur Saloon across the street was worth the price of the dinner, Savannah thought.
“The only person I want to watch is sitting right across from me.” B.J. placed his hand over hers. “I lost my cool with my mother today.”
“Was she upset that you spent the night at my place?”
“Yeah. Then I went on the offensive and tore into Mom for being estranged from her sister for so long.”
He’d talked about his aunt Maddie quite a bit last night. Savannah knew he felt guilty that she was suffering with lung cancer without the support of her extended family.
“Maybe it isn’t all her fault.”
“But I get the feeling Maddie would be open to a reconciliation. If I sensed the same thing in my mother, I could maybe organize something.”
“I don’t know. You’d better stay out of it.” Savannah rolled her eyes when she realized what she’d said. “But then, who am I to give advice? According to Hunter and Regan, I’m always butting in when it’s not my business.”
“We’re both the oldest child in our families. I think it’s how we were programmed.”
He was probably right about that. And for the most part, she liked B.J.’s take-charge attitude. She could never be with a man who was too easygoing. No matter how hard she tried not to, she’d just end up walking all over him.
“There’s something else I need to tell you about my day,” B.J. said.
“That sounds ominous.”
“This afternoon I had a visit from Rex Harris.”
She tensed. The state investigator wasn’t wasting any time with this. “Did he want a statement?”
B.J. nodded. “I told him pretty much word for word what I said in your kitchen that morning.”
Savannah didn’t know what to say. She was almost positive that B.J. was lying to protect Hunter. But if he told the truth—how much trouble would Hunter be in?
“Did he seem to believe you?” she finally asked.
B.J.’s jaw tightened. “Not sure. There were a lot of questions about the watch. He tried to catch me out by describing it as gold one time and silver the next. I guess he wanted to see if I would jump in to correct him. Of course that didn’t work, since I have no idea what the bloody thing looks like.”
Score one for B.J. Would her brother pass that test, too? If she could just find him tonight, she’d be able to warn him what to expect when he was questioned—unless Rex Harris had already interviewed him, as well?
She hated being in the dark like this.
Hated even more not knowing what had really happened.
She wanted to believe the facts as B.J. had outlined them that morning. But her sixth sense—the one all good investigators had—wouldn’t buy it.
“Did he ask you anything else?”
“Just to account for every minute of that day, again implying that I had met Travis somewhere and then lured him out to a remote location so I could get him drunk and rob him.”
She sighed and shook her head. “This is so crazy.” Yet, she could see why Rex had come up with that theory—it explained a lot of questions that were currently unanswered.
Savannah, by instinct keeping an eye on the street and the saloon across the way, noticed a familiar black truck turning off the highway onto Main Street and heading their way. Within seconds she recognized it as Hunter’s. He parked outside the Lonesome Spur Saloon and both he and Hanna White got out of the cab.
Neither of them noticed her and B.J. sitting almost a hundred yards away at their outside table. They were too busy arguing. At one point Hanna put both her hands on Hunter’s chest and gave him a shove. Their voices kept rising, to the point where their words could finally be understood.
“...so forget it!” Hunter yelled.
“Don’t worry. I will!” Hanna stomped off then, heading in the direction of the home she rented on Fir Lane. Hunter stared after her for a moment, fists balled up, but arms hanging limply at his sides. Then he swore and headed for the saloon, looking as if he needed a double—and a designated driver to see him safely home.
Savannah was out of her seat before she realized she was still on a date.
B.J. raised his eyebrows. “Was it something I said?”
“Funny guy. Do you mind if I go find out what happened?”
“Being that bossy older sister again, are you?” His smile took the edge off the words.
“Maybe. Some combination of that and being the local sheriff. I really am sorry to bust up this date, though. I was having a good time.”
“Me, too. And I’m not ready for it to end. Why don’t you go ahead. I’ll settle up here and meet you at the saloon in a few.”
She thanked him with a quick kiss, then grabbed her purse—something she wasn’t used to having with her and was worried about forgetting—and headed across the street.
First she wanted to talk to Hanna, before she disappeared from sight. The other woman was walking as fast as she could, but her heels and narrow skirt were slowing her down. Still, Savannah had to jog to catch up to her. Not an easy feat since she, too, was wearing heels.
“Hanna! Can I speak to you a minute, please?”
The other woman cast her a suspicious look. “Are you asking as the sheriff? Or Hunter’s older sister?”
She thought about that. “His sister.”
“Well, then. Let me get something off my mind.” Hanna put her hands on her hips, her suddenly offensive stance belying the feminine outfit she was wearing. “I know you never liked me. You didn’t think I was good enough for your
brother. What a laugh! He’s the one who isn’t good enough for me!”
“You’re probably right about that.”
“No kidding I’m right. Foolish me to wait all these years while he was having fun on the rodeo circuit. I thought he’d eventually grow up and come home. He’s come home, all right, but he sure hasn’t grown up.”
Something major must have happened to get her this upset. “What did Hunter do?”
Hanna hesitated. Then shook her head. “I’ll let him tell you that. Then you can celebrate the fact that I am finally out of your brother’s life—for good.”
She turned and fled with those words, setting a pace even faster than earlier.
“Wait! Hanna! Please, can I—”
But when Hanna ignored her and kept moving, Savannah didn’t try to stop her again. She could understand the other woman’s resentment and had to admit that she was in the wrong in this case. She should have given Hanna White a whole lot more credit from the start.
Discouraged, she headed for the bar. She wondered what Hunter would have to say for himself this time.
* * *
THE LONESOME SPUR—like most bars and pubs—wasn’t big on windows. Savannah stood in the doorway for a bit, blinking to get used to the subdued lighting.
The bar was in the center of the oblong space. To the right was a pool table, to the left about a dozen tables, most of them vacant.
It was a Monday evening, after all.
Above the bar was a single spur, nailed to the wall.
The lonesome spur was reputed to have belonged to Guy Weadick, a cowboy from Rochester, New York, who’d moved to Canada and started the Calgary Stampede.
Why one of Weadick’s spurs had ended up in Coffee Creek, Montana, was anyone’s guess.
Her brother was perched on a stool at the bar, his head lowered over a pint of beer.
She sat next to him, shaking her head when the bartender noticed her. “I just spoke to Hanna.”
“She stood still long enough for you to do that?”
“Hardly,” she admitted. “What happened?”
Promise from a Cowboy Page 15