by Cassie Miles
“I’m asking you to spend the night.”
She avoided looking at him. His offer to stay the night hadn’t been meant in a romantic way, and she didn’t want to react like a moron. “Normally, I wouldn’t impose, but this is a long day for Grandma. She needs her sleep.”
“And so do you.”
His low, sexy voice caressed her senses. Quickly, she said, “And I’m concerned about Misty. All this stress while she’s pregnant isn’t good for her.”
“Look at me, Tab.”
With great reluctance, she lifted her gaze. With the moonlight shining on his face, he reminded her of that iconic image of the perfect man she’d seen on that night so long ago when he was walking his dog. “Whatever happened to Reilly?”
“My border collie? Oh, man, I loved that dog.” His mouth relaxed into a smile. “I miss good old Reilly. He died last year and I buried him up on the hill. Why do you ask?”
She really couldn’t say. Standing this close to him had turned her into a tongue-tied sixteen-year-old with a heartrending crush. “I don’t know.”
With the back of his hand, he smoothed a wisp of hair off her cheek. “We’ve been through a lot together, Tab. But I hardly know you.”
Her chin tilted upward. The intense focus of his gray eyes warmed her. A trembling heat rippled through her body. “What do you want to know?”
His hand nestled on the nape of her neck under her braid, and he held her in place. When he leaned closer, she knew he was about to kiss her, and the anticipation was almost more than she could stand. Her knees turned to jelly. For years, she’d dreamed of this moment.
His lips touched hers. The light pressure intoxicated her. This is it. This moment was something she’d waited for and imagined and cherished. She wanted more, and she couldn’t hold back. Her level of excitement surged off the charts, and her heart raced madly. If she’d been hooked to a monitor, the machine would have exploded. She pressed her mouth harder against his. Their gentle kiss became fierce and passionate.
Her arm flung around his neck. Her body molded to his. She wanted to feel him in every fiber of her being. His arm snuggled around her waist and yanked her so tightly against him that her breasts crushed against his hard-muscled chest.
This kiss was as wonderful as she had imagined. Better, it was better because it was real and not the fantasy of a lovesick girl. In his arms, she was a woman.
Gasping, she ended the kiss and tucked her head into the crook of his neck. When her eyes closed, a tear squeezed through her lashes and slipped down her cheek.
“I’ll stay the night,” she whispered.
Tonight and tomorrow and the next day, she wanted to stay with him, even if it meant she might get hurt. Some risks were worth the pain.
Chapter Eight
As they walked toward the house, Aiden’s mind was a thousand miles away. His instincts told him to fling Tab over his shoulder, carry her back to his cabin and make love to her real slow. The rational side of his mind reined him back. Too soon, it was too soon. He probably shouldn’t have kissed her in the first place, but he was glad he did. For a woman who acted so professional, she sure as hell had a wild side and a sexy energy that bowled him over. That wasn’t a friendly little kiss. It was foreplay.
“Aiden,” she said, “are you listening?”
“I drifted off for a moment.” He shook off his fantasies and dismissed the image of her lying in her bed with her long black hair spread across the pillows. “You were saying?”
“When Misty was talking to the sheriff about her wristwatch, she was holding something back.”
“She was lying?”
“Not lying, but not telling everything. It had something to do with a party.”
With an effort, he tamped down his desire. “I gave her that pretty gold watch, and I thought it meant something to her. I’m surprised she lost it.”
“She didn’t misplace it,” Tab said. “She argued with the girl who was murdered, Ellen Jessop, and ended up throwing the watch at her.”
Pitching a tantrum sounded exactly like something Misty would do. Not only did she have a temper but she often acted in haste without considering the consequences. “Did she ask for the watch back?”
“Not according to her.”
Approaching the wide porch that stretched across the front of the house, he noticed that the sheriff’s vehicle was still there. “I’m guessing that the sheriff talked to her while we were gone. She’s got to tell the truth, but I hope that being honest won’t get her deeper in trouble.”
“It won’t,” Tab said emphatically. “She’s innocent.”
“I’ll talk to her.” He glanced up at Misty’s second-floor bedroom window at the far right end of the house. The lights were still on. “Looks like she’s still awake. I’ll catch her before she goes to sleep.”
“I have a question,” she said. “Does Clinton stay here with Misty?”
“No.” Aiden had laid down the law on this topic. “Unless they get married, Clinton doesn’t live here.”
“Well, aren’t you the old-fashioned one.”
“I don’t have a problem with Clinton visiting and even spending the night, but there’s a commitment that comes with having a baby, and they both need to step up, make plans and act like grown-ups.”
“Does he have a job?”
“My mom hired him.” He didn’t like that arrangement, but the economy was tough, and Clinton hadn’t been able to find other employment. “But he doesn’t stay in the bunkhouse. He lives in Henley with his parents. The Browns are good folks, and they agree with me.”
“But how does Misty feel about the arrangement?”
Most of his sister’s feelings and attitudes were incomprehensible to him. She’d laugh when she ought to cry. She could handle a big trauma but would blow up over breaking a heel on her shoe. “I think she gets it. There’s a reason she hasn’t married Clinton, and it’s not because he hasn’t asked. He did the honorable thing and came to me for permission.”
“Another old-time tradition,” she said. “Is the Gabriel ranch in some kind of time warp?”
“Would that be such a bad thing?”
“Not for you,” she said. “For someone like me, it’s a different story. I’m half Crow and half white. I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t fare well in the Old West.”
“A beautiful woman like you always has an advantage.”
“Thanks, but—” with a flick of her slender wrist, she brushed his compliment aside “—there’s a lot more expected from a modern woman than being pretty. What’s it going to take for me to drag you into this century?”
“Go ahead.” He grinned. “You can try to change my mind.”
“Challenge accepted.”
They stepped onto the porch, and he made a point of opening the door for her. There was nothing wrong with his supposedly old-fashioned view of life. His father, his grandfather and his great-grandfather had raised cattle on this land, built a small empire and made a good life for their families. Not a damn thing wrong with that.
In the front room, the sheriff paced with his cell phone to his ear, still irritated and hostile. Misty occupied a big leather chair near the fireplace with her feet in fuzzy slippers up on an ottoman. His mom and Blake were opposite her on the love seat.
His mom rose and came toward them. She took Tab’s hands and smiled. “Maria was exhausted. I told her to go to bed.”
“I appreciate that, Sylvia. Grandma needs her sleep.”
“Come here.” Sylvia pulled her into a warm hug. “There hasn’t been time for us to say a proper hello. I’m so glad to see you.”
“Same here.”
Over his mom’s shoulder, Tab gave him a wink. He wondered how long it would take for his mom to start fitting her for a wedding gown. For a woman so dead set on matchmaking, his mom was doing a good job of holding Blake at bay. Tab had included him in her hugging, and they resembled the beginnings of one big happy family.
He couldn�
�t join in, not yet. Aiden had a job to do. He needed to mend fences with Sheriff Fielding who had just ended his phone call. Like it or not, the sheriff was his best source of information.
Aiden cleared his throat. “Your deputies did a fine job in arresting those two. They were thorough.”
“Did you expect anything less?”
“You know how much I respect you and your men.” And that was the genuine truth. More than once, the idea of becoming a lawman had crossed his mind. “We’ve worked together on rescues and searches. I’ve never turned my back when you’ve asked for help, and I hope we can continue with that kind of cooperation.”
The sheriff nodded slowly. “Apology accepted.”
Aiden hadn’t actually humbled himself enough to ask for forgiveness. Real men never say they’re sorry. He winced a little bit as he realized that was probably another example of his old-fashioned thinking. But it worked. He and the sheriff were back on the same page and he was free to ask, “What was in that note the boys threw at the house?”
“They wrote it in crayon on a piece of notebook paper,” Sheriff Fielding said with obvious disgust. “Real childish. Real stupid.”
Misty piped up, “I saw the note. My name was scribbled, all mean and nasty, and it said David’s death was on my head.”
He glanced toward his sister. Usually, she liked being the center of attention, but not like this. Her eyelids drooped. Her skin was pale. “Are you okay?”
“I’m tired.”
While Tab and his mother rushed to Misty’s side, Aiden lowered his voice to speak to the sheriff. “Is this the kind of nonsense you expect from Chuck and Woody?”
“They’ve both got juvenile records. Nothing serious.”
“They claimed that they were just shooting in the air, but I want some serious charges so they understand that gunfire of any kind isn’t acceptable.”
“I agree,” the sheriff said. “That prank could have turned dangerous.”
The sheriff had been looking for a gang, and now he had the start of one with Woody and Chuck. Aiden wanted more information, but he didn’t expect the sheriff to be forthcoming in front of the other people in the room, especially Misty. He nodded toward the kitchen. “Sheriff, you look like you could use some coffee.”
“If I have caffeine at this hour, I’ll never get to sleep.”
“A beer?”
“I wouldn’t say no to a cup of tea.”
His mom caught the reference to beverages and was already moving toward them. Aiden gestured for her to step back. “I’ll make the tea. You take care of Misty.”
In the kitchen, he set the teakettle on the burner and sat at the table opposite the sheriff. “Earlier tonight, you said that you suspected the murders might be the work of a gang. Are there any other guys that Chuck and Woody hang out with?”
“All these kids pal around together. Like Wally the Buffalo Man said, they get together for parties and make a ruckus. They can get away with a lot as long as they don’t cause a disturbance in town.”
“So they go to the rez.”
“I guess they do. Two and a half million acres of land that’s mostly unsupervised is real tempting.”
“Is there anyone who stands out?” Aiden asked. “A leader of the pack.”
“I’ve been keeping my eye on a guy who’s only been in town for six months or so. He’s older than these kids, probably twenty-six or twenty-seven, and a ski bum type. They call him Aspen Jim. His last name is Sherman.”
“Where does he work?”
“At the feed store. He must have known the girl who got murdered. She worked there, too.”
The teakettle gave a whistle, and Aiden put together a couple of mugs with tea bags and sugar. His natural inclination was to ask direct questions and expect answers, but he was still on thin ice with the sheriff and needed to be cautious. “I hope you don’t mind if I ask about your investigation.”
“Let’s just keep in mind that this is my investigation. Mine, not yours.” The sheriff raised his mug and took a sip of the hot tea. “And there are some things I can’t tell you. After all, your sister is a suspect.”
“I understand.”
Aiden was counting on the years of goodwill his family had established with the people in these parts. The Gabriel ranch was a big employer, his mom attended church regularly, and Aiden had the reputation of being fair and honest. To keep Misty out of jail, he might need to call in a whole lot of favors.
“Tell you what,” the sheriff said, “you go ahead and ask your questions. If I need to hold back, I’ll tell you.”
“Fair enough.” He gave a nod. “When do you think you’ll get those autopsy reports back from Billings?”
“A couple of days,” he said. “They put a rush on it. If we’ve got a serial killer dumping bodies on the rez, we need to know.”
Joseph Lefthand had strongly suggested that possibility at the meeting in Crow Agency. He’d warned people in law enforcement to be on the lookout. “What can you tell me about Ellen Jessop’s murder?”
“Her body was found in a gully not far from where Spring Creek Road takes a jog. I wouldn’t mind if you happened to fly over with your chopper. You might be able to see something that the guys on the ground missed.”
Aiden nodded. “If I see anything, I’ll report to you.”
“Ellen’s death might not be related to David’s, but it’s hard not to put the two together. Not that Wally is a reliable witness, but he said that he saw David with Ellen.”
“What can you tell me about the other murdered girl?”
“Raped.” The sheriff winced as he sipped his tea. “Bruising showed she’d been beaten, and the cause of death was manual strangulation. She’d been restrained. When they found the body, her wrists were still tied together.”
“What kind of knots?”
“Nothing special,” the sheriff said, “figure eight knots and bowlines. Sailors use those knots, but so do cowboys.”
“No DNA or fingerprints?”
“Nothing.” The sheriff finished off his tea and pushed back his chair to stand. “I’m about done here. Before I go, I’d like to take Tab’s statement.”
“She’ll be relieved to give it to you.”
“I remember her from way back. She was a skinny little thing, but when she looked at you with those blue eyes, she’d make you stop and stare. She’s grown into a pretty woman.”
“I won’t disagree,” Aiden said. She was most definitely a pretty woman, and she kissed like there was no tomorrow.
“Smart, too. We could use a professional midwife in these parts. I sure hope she decides to stick around.”
Aiden intended to do everything in his power to convince her to stay. This was the place she belonged, the place she would learn to call home.
* * *
BRIGHT AND EARLY THE next morning, Tab took her coffee mug onto the porch and perched on the railing facing her grandma who had settled into a rocking chair. A relaxed smile stretched across Grandma’s lined and weathered face. She reminded Tab of Yoda or the Native American version of Buddha—an icon of wisdom, strength and happiness.
If she told her grandma about the kiss last night, she wondered what Maria Spotted Bear would advise her to do. Should she play hard to get? Should she flirt? Or should she shamelessly throw herself at him? Seeing Aiden this morning could be complicated.
“It’s a beautiful day,” Tab said. Not a cloud in sight, the newly risen sun illuminated the big blue Montana sky. Flying in daylight would be a new experience, one she was anxious to try.
“Not too cold,” Grandma said as she sipped from her own steaming mug. “It’s a good November.”
Tab savored the rich, fragrant coffee. Since her grandma preferred tea, she seldom indulged the coffee habit she’d developed in Missoula when working late nights with women in labor. “Are you ready to head for home?”
“Not so fast. Let me drink my coffee.”
“Really? You’re not having tea?�
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“Sylvia adds a pinch of wild chicory root for me. It’s good for digestion. I brought her a supply for when I visit.”
“I never realized that you and Sylvia were so close.”
“For many years,” Grandma said, “even before you were born.”
“Tell me.” Tab settled back to listen. Her grandma’s stories were always interesting and often had some kind of message. She considered it her duty to educate Tab, not only in the ways of the tribe but in the ways of life.
“When they were young mothers, Sylvia and your mom used to spend much time together. They worked on projects together, beading and knitting. My beautiful Emma was as dark and intense as the moon while Sylvia was blonde and bright. They both liked artful things. When Sylvia came into Billings to see The Nutcracker ballet, she stayed at your house.”
Tab vaguely remembered going to the ballet when she was a little girl. Dancing wasn’t her thing, but she loved getting all dressed up for the big performance.
“When Emma died,” Grandma continued, “Sylvia was a comfort to me. And I returned the solace when she lost her husband. Why do you think I allowed you to spend that summer babysitting Misty instead of staying at my house?”
“To help Sylvia?”
“And to teach you a lesson. You never had brothers or sisters. Being with Misty showed you how to take care of another person who needed your help.”
Since Tab ended up in a helping profession, she figured that the lesson had been well learned. “It might have been a turning point for me.”
“Misty still needs our help,” her grandma said. “I want to stay here at the ranch until I know she’s safe.”
Tab understood the sentiment, but staying here wasn’t practical. “They might never catch the murderer.”
“They will,” her grandma said in a tone of certainty that ended all discussion.
“What about Shua?”
“I already called the neighbors. Sam Tall Grass will take care of the horse and tend to the house. He’s done it before.”