Promise from a Cowboy

by C. J. Carmichael

  Hunter took a long swallow of the beer. “I got called in to talk to that Rex Harris, is what happened. What a bastard.”

  “Was your lawyer present?”

  “That kid wouldn’t have been any help.”

  “What are you talking about? Did you even go to the meeting I set up for you?”

  “Yeah, I went. But one look at the guy and I knew I was wasting my time.”

  Savannah groaned.

  “Don’t give me that. I know what I’m doing.”

  “So what happened after that?”

  “I met Hanna for lunch at Monahan’s. It’s like Harris knew I would be there. He was stalking the place, waiting for me, and then he drove me to his office in Lewistown and made me give a statement.”

  Harris sure had been busy today. Already he had statements from the two key players of that night.

  “And what did you tell him? Did you stick to the facts the way B.J. laid them out this morning?”

  Her brother gave her a testing look. “I told the truth, is what I did. You probably won’t like it, now that you’re sleeping with B.J. But I had to do it.”

  “What do you mean I won’t like it? Didn’t B.J. get it right this morning? Wasn’t that the way it really happened?”

  She dreaded her brother’s answer, sensing he was right and that she wouldn’t like it.

  “He was trying to get me to cover for him, damn it.” Hunter finished his beer, then nodded for another. “You?” he asked his sister.

  “No. I’m staying sober, since you’re going to need a ride home.” So much for her date with B.J. They’d be going home in separate vehicles tonight. She glanced at the door, wondering why he hadn’t joined her yet. He must have paid the bill by now.

  She put a hand on her brother’s arm. “Tell me what you told the state investigator today.”

  “It’s like this. B.J. and I were the first to go into the barn. He went up to check out the loft. I stayed down below waiting for our friends to join us.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yup. Then the storm started with an almighty bang of thunder. I saw our friends drive off in the rain and yelled at B.J. that we’d better get moving, too.”

  Savannah was in shock. Was he telling the truth? She and Hunter were twins, yet she couldn’t tell. He seemed to be sincere.

  “But B.J. said neither one of you went into the loft.”

  “Look, did you want me to tell the investigator the truth? Or the story B.J. asked me to tell?”

  “The truth.”

  “That’s what I did.”

  Savannah stared at him, trying to decide if this could possibly be the truth. It didn’t take long to make up her mind.

  No. She just couldn’t believe it.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Hunter, this is serious. You must tell the truth.” Savannah leaned closer toward her brother, wanting to see directly in his eyes.

  “I am. It was Sheriff Smith and Bob Lambert who made up those lies. Of course they were protecting B.J. You think they’d have worried about protecting me?”

  Savannah got an uneasy feeling in her gut.

  Hunter had a point.

  “But I can’t see B.J. leaving that barn, knowing a man was up in the loft.”

  “Oh. But you can see me doing something like that, huh? Thanks a lot, sis.” He signaled the bartender again, and she noticed that his second glass was already empty.

  “Slow down on that,” she cautioned. “And to answer your question, no, I do not think you would do that. But I do think, as a kid, you might have panicked and made a mistake.”

  “That’s what that Rex Harris said when he tried to trick me into admitting I knew what the watch looked like.”

  She was relieved to hear that he hadn’t fallen for Harris’s ploy. Then she felt guilty. If Hunter was innocent, he wouldn’t have been able to describe the watch, anyway.

  “Look, Hunter. If that’s what happened, then of course I support you.” He was her brother. And that came before any job. “But why did you fight with Hanna?”

  He shook his head. “I can’t talk about that.”

  He chugged back some more beer and she felt sick, thinking about the many long nights their father had spent in this establishment.

  “Come home. Getting plastered isn’t going to help anything.”

  He shook her hand off his arm. “Stop trying to mother me. I’ll be fine. After a day like I’ve had, a man is entitled to a few drinks.”

  “A few? You’ve already had three.” When he ignored this, she tried another approach. “Then give me your keys. I’ll drive your truck home and you can call me when you’re ready for a ride. It doesn’t matter what time. I’ll come and get you.”

  “You’re acting like a mother again, Vanna. Give it a rest.”

  “I’m not acting like your mother. I’m acting like the sheriff. Give me the keys, unless you want to end up spending the night in a cell.”

  That got his attention. Wordlessly he pulled out his truck keys from his pocket and set them on the bar. She picked them up, hesitated, then left without another word.

  * * *

  IT WAS ALMOST dark outside now. She could see B.J. across the street, leaning against the hood of his vehicle. He had his long legs crossed, and his posture was nice and relaxed, as if he had all the time in the world to wait for her.

  “I thought you were going to come into the saloon?”

  “I figured it might be better to let you talk to your brother alone. Is he okay?”

  Her heart lurched at the concern in his voice. This was so mixed-up. How could she tell him what Hunter had just told her?

  It was going to change everything.

  She avoided the arm B.J. extended to her, pretending she hadn’t seen it. “Rex Harris called him in today, too.”

  “To get his statement?” B.J.’s eyes were sharp now.

  “Yes.”

  “And? Did it go okay?”

  “Not really.” She sighed. “B.J., I don’t know how to put this.”

  “Spit it out, woman.”

  She could see the worry and distrust gathering in his expression as he crossed his arms over his chest and waited to hear what she had to say.

  She took a deep breath, then let the words spill out, exactly the way Hunter had told her.

  B.J. let out some choice swear words. “So he’s putting it all on me now? And let me guess. You believe his version.”

  She wouldn’t go that far. But she couldn’t not believe it, either. “He’s my brother, B.J. I’m all he’s got.”

  “I can’t believe this. You’re bailing on me. Again.” B.J. ground out the words as if each one was bitter and distasteful.

  “I’m not. At least, I don’t want to. Can’t you see how impossible this situation is from my point of view?”

  “Sorry, sweetheart. I’m too busy seeing this from my point of view. Which might well be the county jail if your brother gets his way.”

  “B.J.—”

  He turned his back on her and got into the driver’s seat. Through the open window he said, “I imagine you can get a lift home with Hunter?”

  She nodded, not bothering to explain the arrangement she’d made with her twin.

  B.J. took off without another word, laying a little rubber on the road as he hit the gas and making it clear what he thought of her now.

  * * *

  B.J. WAS TOO ANGRY to sleep. Too angry to go to the office and focus on paperwork. Almost too angry to breathe.

  He sped down Big Valley Road, taking the turns faster than he ought to. Only when the sweep of his headlights picked up the white cross that marked the spot where his brother Brock had been killed almost a year ago did he ease up on
the gas.

  He was being reckless. Stupid.

  Better slow down and make it home safe. An accident wasn’t going to solve anything.

  But when he got to the turnoff to his family ranch, he went right, instead of left. He drove past Maddie Turner’s farmhouse, too, spotting Jackson’s truck parked next to Maddie’s run-down old wreck.

  Good. He was glad that his foster brother was keeping his aunt company now. That situation had turned out for the best.

  If only it hadn’t required him to commit to staying on the family ranch. Because the way he felt right now, he was itching to get back on the circuit. A few rounds on the back of an ornery bronc was just what he needed.

  B.J. stopped at the dirt access road that led to the Turners’ old barn. The so-called scene of the crime. Why had he been such a fool as to think he could win Savannah’s heart by protecting her brother?

  Now he’d lost everything.

  Not just the woman he loved, but possibly his own reputation, to boot.

  Any way he looked at the situation, it seemed bleak. Maybe it was time he faced reality. He and Savannah were just not meant to be together.

  And as for Hunter—well—he was going to have to play that one by ear. Right now he wanted to drive back to town, pull the big liar out of the bar and beat him to a pulp.

  But wouldn’t that make him look good in the eyes of the law?

  Besides, he couldn’t do it to Savannah. Hurting her brother would hurt her, too.

  Which was, after all, why he was in this mess in the first place.

  * * *

  THE NEXT MORNING B.J. figured he should find himself a good lawyer. Instead, he worked out in the barn for several hours, then put in a long day at the office, studying the breeding lines for the various stallions and calculating how much he could afford to spend on a new stud come the fall horse sales.

  He avoided his mother and Corb as much as he could, turning down offers for breakfast and lunch. An hour before dinner, he decided to head to town so he wouldn’t have to come up with an excuse not to eat another meal with one of them.

  Soon enough he’d have to tell them about the mess he was in.

  But he wasn’t ready yet.

  He grabbed a burger at the saloon, looked around for Hunter, intending to have a man-to-man chat with his former friend. He’d cooled off enough now that he thought he could manage to talk this out rather than beat the man senseless.

  But Hunter wasn’t in town this evening, and after he’d finished his burger, he decided he’d better leave rather than give in to the temptation to get good and drunk.

  Out on the street he was surprised to run into Vince Butterfield. Since he’d quit drinking and taken the job as baker at the Cinnamon Stick, the former rodeo star had been a reformed man.

  Tonight, though, it seemed as though he was fighting his demons.

  B.J. asked him if he had time to get a coffee.

  “Nothing open at this time for coffee,” Vince replied, his eyes on the front door of the Lonesome Spur.

  “Then let me drive you home. We can put your bike in the back.” He nodded at the mountain bike that Vince used as his sole method of transport since losing his automobile license in a DUI.

  Enough years had passed that Vince could have reapplied for his license, but he claimed that the bike was good enough for him now.

  “Hell, B.J. It’s like you knew I had trouble on my mind this evening.”

  “You’re not the only one, buddy,” B.J. said as he loaded the bike into the back. “Get in. I hope you have some mighty good coffee at your place.”

  “Sure do. Got some fine cinnamon buns to go with it, too. Maybe you can take another half dozen to Maddie for me. Drop them by on your way home.”

  They were on the country road now, the smattering of lights that constituted the town of Coffee Creek just tiny dots in his rearview mirror. “Why don’t you take them to her yourself?”

  “Aw—she don’t want to see me.”

  “You sure about that?”

  Vince scratched the side of his face. “I’m not so sure I could handle seeing her, either. It’s so damn unfair that she got that cancer. Your aunt is one fine woman, B.J. You don’t know her well enough to appreciate that fact, but it’s true. She may look all rough-and-tumble on the outside, but in her heart, she’s all class.”

  “If that’s true, then I don’t think she’d blame you for a choice you made forty years ago.”

  Vince made no comment to that.

  Five minutes later, they’d arrived at the trailer that Vince called home. Inside, the place was surprisingly neat, and Vince brewed up a nice, strong pot of coffee, with the promised fresh buns to go with it.

  B.J. didn’t feel much like eating. But the coffee felt good going down. Not as soothing as a shot of whiskey, but almost.

  “Is Maddie the reason you were tempted to fall off the wagon tonight?” he asked Vince. No sense beating around the bush. The old cowboy would appreciate the direct approach.

  “It hurts me to know she’s suffering. Just one night, I’d like to forget.” Vince stared out the window into the dark. “But I’m glad you came along to drag me out of my misery. I don’t want to be the man I was before. But sometimes it’s hard standing on your own two feet.”

  “Don’t I know it.”

  “You got trouble with the sheriff again?”

  “When don’t I?” It never had been easy with her. And yet, when it worked, it was so damn good.

  “You better sort it out,” Vince said. “Or you’re going to end up an old man like me with nothing but regrets.”

  * * *

  SAVANNAH WORKED THE cattle-rustling case hard on Tuesday, phoning neighbors and cattle barns, on the lookout for any sales involving Black Angus yearlings. She knew that the more time passed, the less likely the chance that Kincaid’s cattle would be returned to him.

  Most every law-abiding citizen in Montana despised cattle rustlers. It went against the code of the land to sneak behind your neighbor’s back and make off with cattle that didn’t belong to you.

  These days, times were hard, and the loss of each calf was significant to a rancher. It was a low-down person who would steal from people who worked so hard for their living.

  She was in a foul mood when she arrived home on Tuesday night. Everything she saw reminded her of B.J.—the missing trucks, the mown fields, the tangled sheets on her bed that she hadn’t bothered to make that morning...

  Impossible to believe they’d spent the night together just forty-eight hours ago. And now he pretty much despised her.

  She went into the kitchen, expecting to see her brother. But all she saw was a sink full of dirty dishes.

  She found Hunter at the computer in the dining room, playing some dumb war game.

  “Jeez, Hunter. Have you wasted the entire day with that?”

  Her brother, unshaven and dressed in jeans but no shirt, gave her a brief glance. While continuing to operate the computer controls with his good arm he said, “That investigator asked me to stay in town for a few days, but when he gives me the green light I’ll be back on the rodeo circuit.”

  She looked at him, not knowing what to say. “What about your arm?”

  “Oh, it’ll be better before you know it.”

  “Hunter, you can’t be a rodeo cowboy forever. Have you given any thought to another career? Maybe you could apply to work on one of the ranches in the area.”

  “I’d rather get on with Monahan and teach some of his rodeo classes. But with Hanna and me on the outs, I doubt he’d hire me— Oh, damn!”

  He slapped the hand of his uninjured arm on the table. It seemed the game had ended and he had lost.

  “Well, it’s worth a try. In the meantime, while you’re staying here I’
d appreciate it if you cleaned up after yourself. Maybe even get dinner started in the evening. You do know how to cook, right?” He’d been on his own long enough that he ought to.

  “Yeah, I can cook a few things. And I didn’t play computer games all day. I also did my laundry.”

  “Well, good for you.” She went back into the kitchen. “What do you want to eat?”

  She didn’t hear his answer, if he gave one. She was too busy wondering when Rex Harris would give her brother permission to leave town. Would Hunter really go back to the rodeo circuit?

  And what about B.J.? Was he going to be charged with anything? She didn’t see how he could, when it all boiled down to one man’s word against another’s. Still, the damage to a person’s reputation could be costly enough.

  * * *

  THE NEXT DAY she was thrilled to get a lead on the cow-rustling case. A sales yard manager all the way in Bozeman had noticed the Bar K brand on a couple of yearlings brought in by a man they hadn’t done business with before.

  Savannah got one of her deputies to drive out to Bozeman with her. Curtis Yarrow wasn’t one of her favorite employees. He was older, had worked for Sheriff Smith and had been obviously less than excited about shifting allegiance to a female boss.

  But Curtis provided the solid backup she needed, and by nightfall, everything was settled. She’d driven the patrol truck down to Bozeman, and when Curtis headed for the driver’s seat for the return trip, she didn’t argue.

  For a while they discussed the events of the day, the desperation and stupidity of the thieves and their relief that they’d found Kincaid’s cattle. They fell silent every time a call came through on the radio, but the calls were all routine and nothing that involved their jurisdiction.

  Ten minutes from Coffee Creek, Curtis cleared his throat. “I hear a state investigator’s been assigned that old case involving your brother.”

  “Yeah. Rex Harris is the one in charge. He should do a good job.”

  Curtis gave her a sideways glance. “They say B. J. Lambert is taking the fall for Hunter.”

  His comment seared Savannah like a branding iron. But she held on to her anger, tamping it down until she could speak without raising her voice. “Oh? And who is saying that?”