Rancher's Dream

by B. J Daniels

  She listened but heard nothing except her own racing pulse. The scent of Ethan’s aftershave seemed stronger in here. She raised the cuff links to her nose and realized why. She could imagine him sitting here after the wedding, removing the cuff links and dropping them into the ashtray next to his chair.

  How long had he sat there, knowing his wife was upstairs waiting for him? She frowned. And had he been alone? She looked again at the room and saw that everything was arranged in perfect order—except for one chair. It had been moved out of place. It was angled so it faced the chair she’d imagined Ethan sitting in that night.

  Ethan hadn’t been alone. But who had sat in the other chair? Not Jet. He hadn’t gotten to town yet. So whom had her husband been visiting with down here on their wedding night before he’d come upstairs long enough to lose his phone on their balcony and then disappear?

  She started to turn when she spotted something on the tile beside the second chair. Bending down, she recognized it. A toothpick. It had been chewed on—and broken in half—before being dropped to the floor.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  “ARE YOU STILL talking to me?”

  Gigi smiled. She’d just gotten home from the restaurant, taken a shower, poured herself her nightly glass of wine and put her feet up. But AJ and her last call had been on her mind ever since. “Have your ears been burning?”

  “You’ve been talking about me?” AJ asked with a laugh.

  “Cursing you to blue blazes.” But she laughed.

  “I have good news. Billie Dee isn’t hiring a private investigator to find you. At least not for a while.”

  “I suppose that’s something.”

  “Aren’t you due for a vacation?” her friend asked. “Montana this time of year is amazing.”

  “My parents took me to Yellowstone National Park that summer when I was thirteen, remember?”

  “Right, but Yellowstone is mostly in Wyoming.”

  “We drove through part of Montana.”

  “Okay, I’ll drop it.” She fell silent.

  “So what’s she like?” Gigi asked with a sigh. “I know you’re dying to tell me.” She’d had a hard day at work. When she saw that it was AJ calling she’d considered not taking the call. But she’d missed her friend and just hearing her voice made her feel better. It always had.

  “Billie Dee? She’s delightful. Everyone up here loves her. The Cahills—that’s who we work for, a brother, Darby, and sister, Lillie—have adopted her like she’s family.” She rushed on, her voice saying more about how much she liked Billie Dee than her words could. “She’s always singing. Usually hymns. She does a great rendition of ‘The Yellow Rose of Texas,’ though.”

  “Delightful.” She curled deeper into her chair by the window and took a sip of her wine. “And you say she can cook?”

  “Won that recipe contest. You would love her Texas chili.”

  Gigi scoffed. “I’d put mine up against hers any day.”

  “Maybe one day you’ll get the chance.”

  “AJ—”

  “I know.” Silence filled the line. “How are you doing?”

  “Fine. The restaurant is crazy busy. I don’t have much time for anything else. How’s the bartending gig?”

  “I met someone.”

  She sat up a little. “Really?”

  “He’s a local rancher.”

  “A cowboy?” Gigi couldn’t help but laugh. “You know we have plenty of those back here in Texas, but I don’t remember you ever being interested.”

  “Cyrus Cahill is...different.”

  “How so?”

  “I don’t know.” AJ sounded embarrassed.

  “You really do like him.”

  “I do, but he hasn’t shown much interest.”

  “The man must be blind and stupid. Maybe you just need to turn on that Somerfield charm,” Gigi said.

  “He doesn’t come into the saloon very often.”

  She felt for her friend.

  “What about you? Anyone interesting come into the restaurant?”

  “I’m too busy to notice.”

  “That’s too bad. There are some really cute cowboys up this way.”

  Gigi laughed. “You and your cowboys.” She finished her wine. “I should hit the hay.” She chuckled. “If you really like this Cyrus Cahill, go after him.”

  “Maybe I just need my wingman...wingwoman? Doesn’t have the same ring. Remember all the fun we used to have together? You used to say we were an insurmountable team.”

  “Vaguely. I’m glad you called. Take care, AJ.” She disconnected, feeling close to tears. She desperately missed her friend and she couldn’t help being curious about this Billie Dee woman whom everyone seemed to love and had allegedly given her birth.

  * * *

  DREY FELT DRAINED after the day she’d had as she climbed the stairs to the master suite. She kept thinking about what she’d found in the sunroom. Proof. But proof of what? That Ethan had been in that room? That he’d taken off his cuff links after the wedding and left them there while he visited with Jet?

  Jet. She’d caught him in another lie, she thought as she took the stairs to her room. He’d lied about only showing up the next morning. He’d been in the house the night before. He’d seen his brother. The two of them had been in that sunroom. But why had he lied about it?

  She couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d known she would be alone when he’d driven up that next day. He’d lied about never being in the house before and yet he’d been in that sunroom with Ethan even before her husband had changed out of his wedding attire.

  Drey had the feeling that they’d been arguing. Based on what? Another one of her premonitions? No, she realized. Ethan had taken off his expensive cuff links, dropped them in an ashtray... It was something he would never do. Unless he was upset. He was so meticulous about his clothing, his belongings.

  She still held the cuff links in her hand, she realized. Looking down at them, she frowned. Walking over to his side of the bed, she tossed them onto his nightstand, remembering the strong scent of his aftershave. These were the cuff links he’d been wearing at their wedding. But was it possible he hadn’t left them there on their wedding night?

  If he was still in this house somewhere...

  Feeling paranoid, she searched the bedroom the way she had the rest of the house, locking both the balcony door and the double doors to the stairs. But if she was right, someone had a key. How else could she explain locking the doors twice, only to find them standing open later in the night?

  This time she was more careful about the way she pushed the chair under the doorknob. If anyone tried to come in, she would at least hear the chair fall.

  What if there is a fire? No one will be able to get to you.

  No one will know I’m here or even that the house was on fire anyway, she told herself. She had much bigger worries. While Brittany hadn’t found anything in the coffee Jet had served or the pills she’d found in her bathroom, she still believed she’d been drugged.

  Her head ached and she realized she wasn’t going to be able to make sense of it tonight. Outside she could see that darkness now blanketed the mountainside. It appeared to be a lovely evening. She hugged herself. Jet couldn’t get back in the gate at the bottom of the mountain. Ethan wasn’t in the house.

  If that didn’t reassure her, she was reminded that Hawk had said the FBI was watching the house. She should feel safe. So why didn’t she?

  Because she would never feel safe locked in this house. She walked to the balcony, opened the newly fixed door and stepped out, needing the fresh air. The summer night air felt like a caress. She thought of Hawk and wasn’t surprised that her yearning for him hadn’t lessened. Telling their secret felt like a weight off her shoulders. But it hadn’t changed anything.

  Turning back to th
e bedroom, now all she wanted was the oblivion of sleep. She closed the door, locked it and pulled the blinds. She stripped down and put on a pair of the silk pajamas Ethan had bought her and crawled into bed. But her mind wouldn’t let her rest. She kept thinking about what Hawk had said. Was she ready to admit she’d made a mistake?

  She had so many questions and so few answers. Nothing seemed to make any sense. Sleep. That was all she needed. When the headache persisted, she got up and reached for her purse. Earlier she’d bought aspirin at the grocery store, the brand she’d always used.

  Opening the bottle she shook out two, then walked into the bathroom to get a drink of water to wash them down. As she opened the medicine cabinet and put the bottle away, she froze. The bottle that was in the cabinet was the same brand she held in her hand—not the generic kind she’d taken since she’d been here.

  Who could have replaced them? Jet? That would mean that he had access to the house. Ethan? She closed the medicine cabinet, determined not to take anything that she hadn’t purchased herself. Back in the bedroom, she dropped the aspirin into her purse and sat down on the edge of the bed.

  Her eyes felt as if they were filled with sand. She wanted to sit down and cry. Her husband was being investigated by the FBI. Jet said he was in Mexico City. The FBI said he was here in Gilt Edge—probably hidden somewhere in this house. And then there was Hawk.

  Why can’t you admit you made a mistake?

  She fell back, lying there, staring at the ceiling as tears ran down from the corners of her eyes. What was she going to do?

  * * *

  HAWK HADN’T EVEN tried to sleep. When Flint found him, he was about to pour himself a glass of whiskey.

  “I’m not sure that is going to help,” the sheriff said as he came into the ranch house. “But just in case, pour me one.”

  He did as his brother asked. Flint took a chair in the living room. Hawk joined him, giving him his drink and taking a chair next to him. “I’d ask what this is about...” He shook his head.

  “You told Drey.”

  Hawk nodded. “I had to.”

  Flint took a sip of his whiskey and grimaced.

  “I heard you’d become a teetotaler,” Hawk joked. “This stuff will put hair on your chest.”

  “I already have hair on mine,” his brother said and took another tentative drink. “How’d she take it?”

  “Not well. She hadn’t known so she definitely isn’t involved.”

  Flint said nothing. He didn’t have to. Hawk knew that even Drey pleading her innocence wouldn’t help her with the FBI if they believed differently.

  “Lillie stopped by my office earlier,” the sheriff said.

  Hawk let out a rude sound. “That woman just doesn’t quit, does she?”

  “Not when she loves her brothers. She told me what broke you and Drey up back in college. I’m so sorry, Hawk.”

  He nodded and took a drink of whiskey and tried to change the subject. “Drey swears that Ethan is in Mexico City.”

  Flint shook his head. “For whatever reason, the FBI says he’s here.”

  “In that house?” Hawk asked.

  “According to them, he never left.” His brother finished his whiskey and rose to his feet. “Which is another reason you don’t want to go near that place. I got the impression from the FBI agents when they stopped by to ask questions about you that you’re now on their radar. I told them that you and Drey are friends. But they’re suspicious. I wouldn’t be surprised if they were about to make an arrest.”

  He swore. “Drey is going to be caught right in the middle of it.”

  “She has been in the middle since she married Ethan Baxter. You can’t save her, Hawk. I wouldn’t be surprised if the FBI isn’t now watching you, as well.”

  After his brother left, Hawk walked the floor at the ranch house, unable to shake his growing worry for Drey. He felt even more helpless. He’d tried to get her to leave Ethan, leave that house, clear out, but she was determined to see this sham of a marriage through.

  He picked up the whiskey bottle but he’d lost his taste for alcohol. All his instincts told him Drey was in more trouble than some FBI investigation. But his hands were tied, he thought, as he looked out into the darkness.

  Was his brother right? Were the feds watching him now, too? Hopefully they were watching Drey and would keep her safe.

  * * *

  DREY DIDN’T KNOW what had awakened her. She sat up with a start. Sun poured in through the balcony windows on another beautiful Montana summer day. She could see the pines outside the balcony glistening in the warm golden rays. The door to the balcony stood open. She frowned. Had she left it open?

  It had been such a beautiful evening last night. She’d had so much on her mind; maybe she had. She remembered standing on the balcony, looking toward the Cahill Ranch. The thought made her angry with herself. Nothing had changed with her and Hawk. Had she really thought finally telling their secret would free them both from the past? She refused to rehash all that in her mind as she breathed in the day.

  But her heart was still pounding. She frowned as she realized what had awakened her. There’d been a loud noise. Had it been another dream? Whatever it had been, she heard nothing now. She lay back, listening to a meadowlark outside her window and the pounding of her pulse. As it began to slow, she was relieved to realize that she had awakened without any of that foggy feeling she’d had before. It only strengthened her belief that Jet had drugged her.

  Drey felt so much better that for a moment she’d forgotten about the FBI investigation and her argument with Hawk yesterday. She closed her eyes. She would make a point of talking to Flint about the investigation today. Hawk could have purposely made it sound worse than it was. Thinking about him made her ache. He’d said he still loved her. He knew that she still loved him, too. But did he really think that was enough to erase the past between them? That all she had to do was walk out of this marriage? And then what?

  A shout came from outside, followed by a gunshot.

  There was no mistaking the sound. A gunshot. Right outside the house. She realized that must have been what had awakened her as she threw back the covers and rushed to the window. Seeing nothing, she ventured out on the balcony, all the while telling herself it could have been a car backfiring.

  She couldn’t remember the last time she’d heard a car backfire, but she knew too well the sound of gunshots. Born and raised a Montanan, she had learned to fire a gun at a young age and had gone hunting with her father and, later, friends for years.

  Out on the balcony, she glanced around, wondering if it had been kids taking target practice somewhere nearby. But the shot had seemed so loud, so close. At first she saw nothing in the bright summer day. The breeze stirred the pine boughs nearby and sent ripples across the surface of the pond.

  Suddenly she saw Jet. He staggered onto the pond dock. He was holding his hands over his stomach. The pale blue shirt she’d first seen him in appeared to be dark with... Was that blood? She heard another shot and let out a cry as she saw his body jerk an instant before he fell face-first into the water and lay unmoving.

  * * *

  FLINT HAD TAKEN the emergency call from Drey, praying it had nothing to do with his brother.

  “Someone shot Jet,” she cried. “I heard gunshots. I saw him fall into the pond.”

  “Did you see who fired the shots?”

  She let out a sob. “No.”

  “Where are you?”

  “I’m upstairs in my bedroom. I saw the whole thing from the balcony.”

  “Okay, listen to me.” He could hear how upset she was. “I need you to lock your door and stay right where you are. Don’t go out on the balcony again. The shooter could still be out there. Do you understand?” He heard her sudden intake of breath. Clearly she hadn’t thought that she might be in danger.

&
nbsp; “I understand,” she said. He could hear her closing doors and locking them.

  “When you last saw Jet, was he moving?”

  “No. He was just lying facedown in the water.”

  “Okay, will you be able to let us in at the gate in about five minutes?”

  “Yes.”

  “Promise me that you’ll stay where you are and not open the door for anyone but me. I’m on my way.” He got off the phone as quickly as he could.

  Jet Baxter shot to death out by the pond? What the hell?

  He pulled out the card Federal Agent Mike Taylor had left him. If the FBI were watching the house like they’d led Flint to believe... He quickly called the number and waited. The moment Taylor answered he told him who he was and what had happened according to Mrs. Baxter. All the time, he was wondering if they knew more about this than he did.

  But if anything, the agent sounded surprised. Maybe they weren’t watching the Baxter house as closely as the agent had indicated they were.

  “Handle it like you would any shooting,” Taylor told him, sounding upset.

  The moment he hung up, he told the dispatcher to radio two of his deputies to meet him at the gate into the Baxter property. Then he called his undersheriff, Mark Ramirez.

  * * *

  DREY STOOD IN her bedroom, hugging herself for a long moment after she hung up from talking to the sheriff. She hadn’t even considered that the shooter might still be outside and that she might be in danger. She’d been so shocked to hear the gunshot and look out in time to see Jet wounded and being hit by another shot before he fell into the pond, that she hadn’t even thought she might be in danger herself.

  She wanted desperately to go back out on the balcony. He was dead, wasn’t he? What if he was still alive? What if—She told herself she had to do what the sheriff had told her. Whoever shot Jet could still be out there. Or worse, could be trying to break into the house right now.

  Nervously, she glanced toward the balcony. Look how easily Hawk had been able to get to her. The way Ethan had designed the house, the balconies were like stairs that at least one man had been able to scale.