Lassoed

by BJ Daniels

  “Where did you see her?” he asked.

  “By the grandstands.”

  “There must have been a lot of people there last night,” Duane said. “What was it about her that made her stand out in your memory?”

  She seemed to think for a moment. “I guess the reason I noticed her was because she was going the wrong way. We were all trying to leave and she was heading back in as if she’d lost something, you know.”

  “She looked upset?” he said.

  The cook nodded. “She was crying. I thought maybe she’d misplaced one of her kids or something, and I was about to ask her if I could help, when I saw she already had help.”

  Duane felt his stomach roil. “She was with someone?”

  “One of Hoyt Chisholm’s sons.”

  Chapter Seven

  Billie Rae gripped the steering wheel as the car rocked, the flat tire flopping loudly on the pavement as she tried to keep control of it. She finally got it pulled over to the side of the road and climbed out to see how much damage had been done.

  There hadn’t been a lot of traffic along the two-lane, but now several semis passed blowing up a cloud of dust and dirt. Covering her eyes, she waited until they passed before she opened the trunk.

  A motor home blew past as she looked in the trunk for what she would need to change the tire. She’d changed a tire once, but it had been a long time ago. Since Duane didn’t let her drive and had sold her car right after they got married—

  It made her angry how she’d let him make all the decisions in her life since they got married. But she’d learned early on not to argue with him. It was just easier—and safer—to go along with whatever he wanted than to argue, which always led to a fight.

  She heard another vehicle coming and braced herself as she pulled out the bag of tools and waited for a truck pulling a trailer to roar past. Tanner, bless his heart, had made sure she had tools and the spare had air and some tread on it.

  As she reached for the spare, she heard the sound of a vehicle slowing, then pulling up behind her. She turned to see a man in uniform climb out of a Montana highway patrol car.

  ONE OF HOYT CHISHOLM’S SONS? Turned out there were six of them and they were grown men anywhere from their late twenties to their early thirties, and all six had been adopted by some big rancher to the north of Whitehorse.

  Duane had gotten the information from the group gathered in the café.

  “So what’s the story on the Chisholms?” Duane had asked.

  The waitress, not surprisingly, had turned out to be the most talkative. She told him about Hoyt Chisholm’s four wives, two dead, one missing and one a newlywed, then about the six adopted sons.

  “So you think he killed the other three wives?” he’d asked, not really giving a damn. All he really cared about was finding one of the man’s sons—the bastard who’d apparently taken his wife away from the fairgrounds last night.

  “There’s this insurance investigator who thinks he did. Now she’s up and disappeared. I heard they found her car by the river.” She lowered her voice. “My good friend works as a dispatcher at the sheriff’s department.”

  Great. “So all six of his sons live on this big, old ranch of his?” he asked, trying to keep the woman on the subject he was interested in.

  “Nah, I think they’ve all moved out. He keeps buying up ranches and the sons move into the houses that come with them.”

  “This guy must have money.”

  “Insurance money from those three wives,” the waitress said under her breath. “Everyone is wondering how long it will be before he kills the fourth wife.”

  “So which one of them was at the rodeo last night with the woman I’m after?” he asked the cook, whom he had talked into sitting down at a booth with him and the waitress since the place was dead right now.

  “It didn’t really register when I saw him with her,” Rachel said. “I was mostly looking at her. But later…” she added quickly as she must have seen him getting upset. “As we were driving out, we passed the Chisholm Cattle Company ranch truck and I noticed there were three people in the cab.” She looked a little uncomfortable and Duane tried not to show how frustrated he was getting.

  “I was still wondering if the woman had found her child or if she was upset about something else,” the cook said.

  Duane nodded, wishing to hell she would get on with it, but knowing better than to push her again.

  “I saw the woman was sitting in the middle and Marshall Chisholm was driving. There was another brother riding shotgun, but I didn’t get a good look at him before my husband went flying around them.” She realized she’d just told a cop that her husband had been speeding. “He slowed down after that, but Marshall had already turned off, so I didn’t see them again.”

  “You wouldn’t happen to know where Marshall Chisholm lives, do you?”

  Duane tipped the cook and the waitress more than either deserved and left with directions to Marshall Chisholm’s house. Apparently it was a good distance from any other ranch house and miles north of town.

  The perfect place to hide a woman who didn’t want to be found.

  BILLIE RAE WAS SURPRISED Duane hadn’t called the law on her sooner, she thought as she watched the highway patrolman get out of his car. He’d always told her not to bother calling the cops on him because they all stuck together.

  She’d learned that the hard way the one time she’d tried to get help from the police. But how had he known what she was driving? The car was in Tanner’s name. Unless…

  Her heart began to pound harder. She felt faint at the thought that Duane had found Tanner and what he had done to him to make Tanner talk.

  The patrolman was a big man with an angular face. He wore mirrored shades and touched his nightstick as he walked up to her, his face stern.

  She leaned against the back of the car, her legs suddenly weak as water.

  “Looks like you could use a little help,” the officer said and picked up the bag of tools from the ground where she’d laid them. “Why don’t you get off the road and I’ll take care of this. Won’t take but a few minutes.”

  Billy Rae licked her dry lips, her mouth like cotton. “Thank you,” she said, choking out the words.

  She stepped off the road as he went to work on the tire. He was right, it didn’t take him long. She’d watched him, telling herself this was all there was to him stopping. Duane hadn’t put the word out on her. She had nothing to fear.

  But as she watched the highway patrolman she was suddenly aware of how little traffic there was on the highway. She was alone out here in the middle of nowhere with a man in uniform—and she had learned not to trust a badge of any kind.

  The highway patrolman put the blown tire in the trunk along with the tools and slammed the lid shut. “There, you should be fine now. I’d suggest, though, that you get that tire fixed or buy another one. Where are you headed?”

  “Great Falls.” It was the only town she could remember on the map.

  “Good, it’s not far up the highway. I’ll follow you to make sure you don’t have any more trouble.”

  “That’s not necessary, really.” She was trying hard not to let him see how upset his suggestion made her. The last thing she wanted to do was make him suspicious.

  “It’s not a problem,” he said. “I’m headed that way, anyway.”

  All she could do was nod and thank him again.

  Climbing behind the wheel, it took her a few moments to get the car started, her hands were shaking so badly. He hadn’t asked for her driver’s license. Because he knew who she was, knew she didn’t have it with her?

  Billie Rae drove across the high bench for what seemed forever, the highway patrolman a couple of car lengths behind her. Finally the highway dropped down to the river and into the city of Great Falls. She pulled into the first gas station she came to and put down her window to let in fresh air as she tried to breathe.

  What happened now? Would the patrolman detain h
er until Duane got here? She didn’t think the man would hurt her, because he’d had the perfect opportunity out in the middle of nowhere if that’s what he had planned.

  When she looked, she saw the highway patrolman give her a friendly wave, turn around and leave.

  Billie Rae couldn’t believe it. Her relief was so intense, she had to fight tears. Was it possible Duane hadn’t put the word out on her? He’d always told her he had friends all over the country and that there was nowhere she could hide from him.

  “Can I help you?”

  Startled, she jumped and turned to find a young gas station attendant standing next to her open car window. It took a moment before she could speak. “I blew a tire. I was hoping—”

  “Pop your trunk and I’ll take a look at your tire.” A moment later, the young man came back to the window carrying the tire. “You picked up a nail. I can patch it. Shouldn’t take long.”

  She heard a cell phone ring.

  The attendant looked at her as it rang again. “I think that’s yours,” he said as he took the flat tire and headed for one of the bays in the garage. On the third ring, she realized the sound was coming from inside the glove box of her car.

  As she opened it, she saw the cell phone lying inside. For just an instant she had the crazy, insane suspicion that Duane had put it there. Or the highway patrolman when she wasn’t looking. But that was impossible. Only one person could have put it there, she realized as she snatched up the phone.

  “Hello?”

  “I see you found the phone,” Tanner Chisholm said. “Look, I’m sorry. I was worried about you. You wouldn’t take my other offers but I thought at least you’d have a phone if you needed it.”

  She was so touched that for a moment she couldn’t speak. “Thank you.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Great Falls. I had a flat, or I would have been a lot farther down the road.”

  He was quiet for a moment. “I wish you’d stayed. It’s not too late to change your mind.”

  She wished she could. She remembered the views from the ranch, the feeling of peace and solitude and freedom. She remembered what it felt like to be in Tanner’s strong arms, to sit at the table with some of his family and feel safe.

  The attendant came back out with her tire and loaded it into the trunk.

  “I should go,” she said.

  “I bought another cell phone. You have the number now since I called you. Be careful and, when you get to where you’re going, give me a call if you want to.”

  “I will,” she promised and snapped the phone shut. As she started to put it back in the glove box, she saw the money Tanner had left for her and felt tears burn her eyes.

  EMMA HAD BEEN EXPECTING the sheriff since the moment she’d heard about Aggie Wells’s white SUV being found abandoned down by the river. The news had traveled like wildfire on the Whitehorse grapevine, not that Emma was on it since she was apparently too new in town, but Hoyt’s ranch housekeeper had heard the news.

  The moment she’d seen Mae Sutter’s face when she’d come to work late that afternoon, Emma had known there was fresh gossip about the Chisholms.

  “Spill it,” she’d said to Mae, who’d looked surprised. But Emma was tired of beating around the bush with the cook and housekeeper. She’d tried to get close to them for weeks and they’d held her off as if she had a communicable disease.

  Mae was a tiny thing. Emma had thought that a good gust of wind would blow the woman away. But Mae had turned out to be a lot stronger and more solid than she looked. She was also a good worker.

  “I don’t know what you’re—”

  “Save your breath, Mae. What’s happened? And don’t give me that innocent look of yours,” she said to the housekeeper.

  Mae straightened to her full height, all of five feet with her sturdy work shoes on, and tried to look indignant, but Emma could tell she was dying to tell everyone she knew—even her boss—who was involved.

  “That woman who had dinner here the other night—”

  “Aggie Wells,” Emma said, trying to keep the tremor out of her voice. “What about her?”

  “The sheriff questioned me about her,” Mae said.

  No surprise there. Emma put her hands on her hips and gave the housekeeper an impatient look, knowing there was a whole lot more to it than that.

  “They found her car abandoned by the river,” Mae blurted out. “There was blood on the driver’s seat. They’re dragging the river for her body.”

  Emma had always been proud of her ironclad composure, but she felt all the blood drain from her face and had to sit down.

  Mae got her a glass of cold water. “Are you all right?”

  She nodded, knowing that Mae must be champing at the bit to tell everyone in the county about her reaction. Emma didn’t care right now. “I liked Aggie,” she said, tears in her eyes as she grasped the housekeeper’s hand. “I know it sounds crazy, but I really liked her. I hope nothing happened to her.”

  Mae didn’t look convinced. Nor was Mae surprised any more than Emma was when a few minutes later the sheriff drove up in the yard.

  “I’ll take care of this,” Emma said, pulling herself together as she went to open the screen door and step out on the porch.

  “Good afternoon, Sheriff,” she said as McCall climbed out of her patrol SUV. “I thought we’d sit out here and talk, if that’s all right. Would you like coffee or lemonade?”

  The sheriff shook her head. “I need to speak with your husband.”

  Emma hadn’t mentioned to Hoyt the sheriff’s earlier visit when he and his sons had surprised her and come home for lunch. She hadn’t wanted to upset him. She told the sheriff what she’d told her before. Hoyt wasn’t expected back until late.

  “You’ve heard,” the sheriff said as she studied Emma still standing at the top of the steps.

  Emma nodded, not up to playing games. She was still shaking inside and felt light-headed. “Have you found her?”

  “No, not yet. When you hear from your husband, would you tell him to contact me as soon as possible?”

  “Of course.” She didn’t need to ask why. Of course Hoyt would be the number one suspect, with her falling in at a close second.

  The sheriff seemed to hesitate. “Did either of you leave the house that night after supper with Agatha Wells?”

  “No. We were here the rest of the night.” But she knew that wouldn’t clear them. Hoyt had gotten up early the next morning and left. Emma didn’t know where he’d gone, had just assumed it had something to do with the ranch.

  She, herself, had gone into town that morning and didn’t have an alibi for her whereabouts as she had taken a ride south to the Little Rockies to clear her head. The truth was, she hadn’t wanted to stay around the house. She’d been too antsy, afraid of what Aggie Wells would do next.

  When Aggie had left, her last words had been a warning that Hoyt Chisholm was dangerous, that he’d killed all three of his former wives and that Emma would be next.

  Emma had hoped that having Aggie out to dinner would change her mind about Hoyt. It had been a foolish idea. At dinner Aggie had seemed to enjoy Hoyt’s company, but later she was more convinced that Emma was living with a killer.

  “Are you sure you wouldn’t like some coffee or lemonade?” Emma asked the sheriff, hating the fear she heard in her voice.

  “Thank you, but I need to get going,” the sheriff said, turning to leave. “Do you know where your husband is working today on the ranch?”

  Emma didn’t. Hoyt had said they were putting in a new fence, but she had no idea where. He hadn’t confided in her much about the ranch and his work lately. She’d told herself he had a lot on his mind, just as she told herself he hadn’t been avoiding her. The thought that she’d been lying to herself about a lot of things scared her more than she wanted to admit.

  After all this had come out about the deaths of two of his wives and the disappearance of the third, he had begged her to leave him. She ha
d refused. It was after that that Hoyt had made himself scarce, as if he feared just being around her might put her in mortal danger.

  “I assume you already tried to reach him by cell phone,” Emma said.

  The sheriff nodded. “It went straight to voice mail. I left him a message. It’s important I speak with him as soon as possible.”

  “I’ll tell him. And you’ll let me know what you find out about Aggie?” Emma called from the porch.

  The sheriff had reached her patrol SUV. She glanced back at her and nodded.

  What was Emma thinking? If Aggie’s body was found, she and Hoyt could expect to see the sheriff at their door—probably with an arrest warrant for at least one of them.

  DUANE FOUND Marshall Chisholm’s farmhouse without any trouble. It was off the county road, back in a quarter mile and sheltered by a large stand of old cottonwoods.

  He drove up to the two-story house, noting there were no vehicles parked in front. The large old barn out back had a tractor and some rusted farm equipment around it but nothing inside. The perfect place to hide a vehicle.

  He pulled his car into the back of the barn deep in the shadows, then taking the tire iron from the back, went to have a look in the house. While he didn’t believe Marshall was home, he couldn’t be sure Billie Rae wasn’t hiding inside.

  He was only a little surprised to find the back door unlocked. People in this part of Montana were awful trusting. Duane let himself in.

  The kitchen linoleum was worn and dated just like the appliances and cabinets, but everything was clean. Duane couldn’t imagine living alone and wondered about a man who could. No wonder the man had jumped at the chance to pick up a woman like Billie Rae.

  The living room was neat as well, even though the furniture was also dated. It would seem that the son, even an adopted son, of a rich rancher could afford better furniture.

  He climbed the stairs to find two bedrooms, one empty, the other with an antique metal bed frame and antique dressers that had probably come with the house.

  Duane moved to the bed, pulled back the quilt and smelled the sheets. Billie Rae hadn’t slept here. In the bathroom, he also found no sign that Billie Rae had ever been there.