A Rancher’s Brand of Justice

by Ann Voss Peterson

  “Almost 4:00 a.m.”

  “I apologize for falling asleep like that. I should have kept you company.”

  “You needed the rest.”

  She didn’t like the fact that he seemed to know how much. That he could have been watching her sleep, and she’d never know. “We need to call the authorities.”

  “Already did.”

  He’d made the call? She sat straight up in the seat. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

  “Like I said, you needed the rest.”

  She shook her head. “I needed to talk to the sheriff.” She didn’t even know in what county the crash had taken place. She rummaged under the seat. Touching the soft leather of her bag, she hauled it out, unzipped it and started fishing for her cell phone.

  “Don’t bother. There’s no signal around here.”

  She found her phone and checked the readout. He wasn’t lying. “Isn’t there any cell phone service in Wyoming?”

  “There is. Just not around here.”

  “Well I need to get somewhere that has service. I have to let the authorities know what happened.”

  “I already told them.”

  “That’s not the same thing.”

  “It will have to do. At least for now.”

  Nick slowed the truck. Ahead a handful of lights peppered the dark slope in front of the truck. The hulks of buildings took shape. A collection of small cabins. A barn that looked like it came straight out of the Old West.

  She tore her eyes from the cabins and focused on what had to be the main house. Although it, too, was built with logs, this place was bigger and fancier than any log cabin she’d ever seen. Constructed in multiple levels, the house boasted creative angles and railed decks. Generous windows overlooked the mountain landscape. “This is your ranch?”

  His cowboy hat tilted forward in a nod. “It’s a guest ranch. The bulk of the tourist season is over and I don’t have any hunters booked until next week, so you have your pick of the cabins.” He piloted the truck to a small parking area just to the west of the house and brought it to a halt.

  “A guest ranch, huh, then you must have phone service.” She glanced around. A faint light touched the eastern edge of the sky. The first glow of dawn.

  “That’s part of the charm of this place. People come here to escape the outside world.”

  She didn’t believe it. “How do you take reservations?”

  He threw an arm over the back of the passenger seat next to him and twisted to look her in the eye. “If you want to talk about this, let’s step outside.” His gaze flicked over Jason, still fast asleep.

  Melissa nodded. As urgent as it was for her to get to a phone, she didn’t want to wake the boy with an argument. He’d been through more than any kid should ever have to go through in his entire life. She didn’t want to add to his trauma. She opened her door and stepped out into the bracing night air.

  Nick followed, and they both quietly closed the doors behind them.

  Melissa looked up at the cowboy. Face shadowed by his hat brim, she could read little of his expression, but the straight jaunt of his spine and the casual way he shifted his weight onto one boot clearly conveyed how comfortably in control of the situation he felt.

  She stretched to her full height, wishing she’d worn higher heels. “How do you run a business like this without a phone?”

  “I have a service that takes care of reservations.”

  She shook her head. “And if some rich client has a heart attack, do you send out the pony express to bring back an ambulance or do you prefer using passenger pigeons?”

  The corners of his lips tilted upward. His shoulders jerked in a shrug. The movement was too abrupt, as if he was indeed hiding something.

  And she had a guess as to what. “You have a satellite phone.”

  He didn’t respond.

  “I have to use it right away.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “I have to—”

  He held up a hand. “The authorities are taking care of the sedan at the bottom of the ravine and your car, too. I’ll arrange for you to get back to Denver, I promise, but first I need to get something clear.”

  “What?”

  “I need to know why you were following me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We are not going back to Denver.”

  She figured they’d get around to this argument sooner rather than later. “Most witnesses who need protection can’t get it.”

  “Feel free to give them ours. Now that we’re back at the Circle J, I have it under control.”

  “You might feel like you’re hiding from the outside world, but there’s nothing to keep the outside world from finding you. Even in the middle of nowhere.” She gestured at the darkness around them. No, not darkness. Now that she was outside of the car, the sky seemed to be alive with more stars than she’d seen in her lifetime. Add the creep of dawn, pink along the horizon, and this place looked far from nowhere. It was isolated, sure, but it was definitely a somewhere. And a beautiful somewhere at that.

  “Isn’t Jason a bit young to testify in court?”

  A heaviness settled into her chest. She’d wanted to explain it all to Nick at the hospital, allay his fears for his son, but Seth and Cory Calhoun had talked her into holding back. All they had was a theory. No facts to back it up that she knew of, not yet. But in light of all that had happened since, she wasn’t going to hold back any longer. “Yes. A four-year-old’s testimony has limited value. And we’re pretty sure he didn’t see the actual murder.”

  “Then why do you need him in Denver?”

  “We don’t. We need you.”

  He took a step back and stared at her as if she were speaking another language. “So Jason isn’t much of a witness at all? Then why the drive-by outside the hotel?”

  “They…” She paused, still not sure if she really wanted to believe the theory Seth sprang on her in the hospital, although it was better than someone gunning for a four-year-old kid. She swallowed into a tight throat. “We don’t think Jason was the target. We think Jimmy was.”

  Nick tilted his head to the side. “Who’s we?”

  “Seth, Detective Marris, and another D.A.’s investigator, Cory Calhoun.”

  “The men who were arguing in the hospital corridor.”

  “Yes.”

  “So Jason was just in the wrong place at the wrong time?”

  “Not exactly. Calhoun thinks Jimmy was targeted because he was the lead detective on your ex-wife’s case.” She paused, wishing that was all. “And somehow the shooters knew just when Jimmy would be bringing Jason to the police station. They were in position, waiting.”

  “That’s what I saw.” He tilted his head to the side. “You think someone told them. Who?”

  Possible explanations had been hanging on the edges of Melissa’s mind since she’d talked to Seth at the hospital. But out of all the people who could have known their plan to bring Jason to the police station that morning, she really didn’t want to believe any could have sold him out like that. “We don’t know. But we’re going to find out.”

  “And the men shooting at our truck? It looked like the same car.”

  She nodded. The description he’d given at the crime scene had matched the car that crashed into the ravine to a T. “You saw them murder a police detective.”

  He turned away from her and paced a few feet, shaking his head. Taking a deep breath, he looked back in her direction. This time one of the lights on the house’s exterior caught the side of his face. He looked tired and more stressed than his body language had suggested. “I talked to a police artist at the hospital. Can’t they just use those sketches to identify the bodies? If it’s even possible.”

  “You said you saw four men in that car in Denver.”

  “That’s right.”

  “It didn’t look like there were any more than two last night.”

  “Two? It was dark and everything was happening way too f
ast. How can you know that?”

  “I saw two men. I’m sure.” When it had happened, it had been dark, and she hadn’t been sure. But she wasn’t going to let him assume he was off the hook.

  He let out a sigh, as if he was getting tired of the whole argument. “I’m not going back.”

  “How can you say that? The men who murdered Jimmy might still be out there. If you don’t care about Jimmy, and you don’t care that they’re likely tied to your ex-wife’s murder in some way, then you should at least care that they almost shot your son.”

  He frowned. “Seems if I went back, I’d be inviting them to take another try.”

  She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Nick Raymond seemed like a good guy. She’d even had visions of him as a hero in one of those Westerns Jimmy had loved to watch. What a joke. You could rely on a hero to do the right thing. You could rely on them to see things through. “So that’s it? You don’t care about justice?”

  “Justice? Let me tell you about justice.” He stepped forward.

  Too close for her comfort. She took a step back.

  “Justice is a man finally finding the child he had stolen from him three years ago.” His voice boomed in the quiet night, not loud, but ringing with emotion. “Justice is a little boy who knows he’s safe when he steps out the front door or rides in his daddy’s truck. And right now, justice is you leaving us alone.”

  She pulled in a shaky breath. He’d been through a lot. She had to remember that. “I’m sorry. I know this has been incredibly tough. It has been for all of us.”

  “Tomorrow I’ll drive you to Jackson and you can rent a car to get back to the city.” He took off his hat, raked a hand through his hair and replaced it. “You can find your justice, Melissa, but leave me to mine. Please.”

  She said nothing. She felt bad for him and ashamed she hadn’t tried to see the situation from his point of view from the outset, but she wasn’t ready to give up. Not yet.

  She watched Jason through the side window. He was still sound asleep, slumped to the side in a way only a child’s body could bend. She supposed she could threaten to arrest Nick. But she doubted a mere threat would work, and she still couldn’t stand the thought of slapping on the cuffs. They weren’t even in Colorado anymore, a detail that would surely complicate things. There had to be another way.

  “Now do you want to pick out a cabin for the rest of tonight, or should I just give you one?” Nick said.

  She looked up at the house. The place was huge. Surely he had an extra bedroom available, close enough for her to work on him, convince him returning to Denver was necessary. Close enough…

  She almost laughed at the direction her thoughts had led back in the hospital, before Nick had tricked her and slipped away. She wasn’t some weak, pitiful thing with a cowboy fetish. She would never be that woman. She could handle being within the same walls as Nick Raymond. And she would get him back to Denver. Somehow.

  She folded her arms across her chest. “I’d like to stay near Jason, at least for tonight. I want to make sure he’s okay.”

  Nick’s gaze flicked to the truck’s interior, then back to Melissa. He didn’t speak for what seemed like forever, as if sizing up her sincerity. Finally he gave a nod, his hat brim tilting low. “I think that would probably help.”

  She met his words with a smile despite herself. She’d worked with kids before, and she was good at relating to them. That was why she often worked on cases involving children. But Jason was different. She wasn’t sure if it was the kid himself or his parallels to her own childhood, but he’d wedged himself close to her heart. “Thanks.”

  “I got to warn you, if you think you can talk me into going back to Denver, you’re fooling yourself.” Nick’s voice was gentle, even though his words called her out. He lifted his hand to his hat and gave it a slight tip. “But it’ll be nice to have a woman in the house all the same.”

  Somewhere deep inside, Melissa felt a weak flutter, and she had to wonder if she’d just made a big mistake.

  Chapter Five

  “Mommy always has grape.” Jason stuck out his lower lip.

  Nick glanced down at the piece of toast. He’d thought for sure Jason would like toast with strawberry jam. It was almost noon, and they had yet to eat breakfast. The little hellion had already refused eggs and bacon, but Nick had hoped he’d solved the problem with toast. “Sorry. Strawberry is all I have. How about honey?”

  “Mommy gives me grape.”

  Nick couldn’t help but wonder how much of the refusal to eat had to do with jam and how much had to do with losing his mother. “Oatmeal? How about that?”

  Jason shook his head. “Mommy didn’t like oatmeal.”

  Nick remembered that. He remembered a lot of other things Jason’s mommy didn’t like. Like the ranch. Like the ranching life. Like him.

  “Should we just skip breakfast for now and go see the horses?” Nick flinched at the hint of desperation in his voice. Not good. If Jason picked up on how much he wanted him to fall in love with the Circle J, he’d hate it as much as he hated strawberry jam.

  “Actually, I want to see Melissa.”

  Actually? Nick didn’t realize kids that young used words so big. He stifled a smile. “Melissa didn’t get much sleep last night, buddy. I think she’s still snoozing.”

  “I’m awake.”

  Her voice came from behind him. He turned in time to see her step into the kitchen.

  Her skin glowed. Her face seemed younger and more real without makeup. She was wearing the same clothes she had on yesterday, except for the jacket. But where most people would be a bit rumpled around the edges, she looked fresh, like she hadn’t slept in the clothes at all.

  Maybe she hadn’t.

  He shook his head and thrust to his feet. Walking into the kitchen, he carefully steered around the image in his mind and gestured to the space around them. “What do you think of the place?”

  She scanned the big, country-style kitchen, the adjoining dining hall and the great room beyond. Her eyes stopped at the fireplace and the elk rack above the mantle. “Looks cozy, like a real Western lodge. I can see why people like to stay here.”

  “I’m going to ride on a horse.” Jason threw out his skinny little chest, as if suddenly bursting with pride.

  “That sounds fun.”

  “You can come, too.”

  Melissa glanced at Nick. “I think your dad wants to—”

  “Of course you can come. I have plenty of horses.” He didn’t know where the invitation had sprung from, but there it was, jumping from his mouth. Of course, the thought of her sleeping naked between the sheets of one of the guest rooms could have him agreeing to just about anything.

  She held out her arms, showing off her white blouse and trousers. “I’m not exactly dressed for it.”

  Nick glanced at his son. The little guy hung on every word from Melissa’s lips. Obviously he’d grown close to her in the short time since his mother had died. He was used to being without a father. But he obviously needed a mother figure. So badly it made Nick’s chest hurt if he dwelled on it too much. “If you can get him to eat some breakfast, and have some yourself, I’ll see if I can fix the clothing problem.”

  She shared a smile with Jason. “You’re on.”

  Nick ran upstairs and let himself into the attic. Winding through stacks of items in storage, he found the box he was looking for. Hefting it in one arm, he carried it down to the kitchen.

  By the time he returned, Melissa was sitting next to Jason at the table. She bit into a piece of toast, and Jason did the same. She had made herself at home at the stove and served up a plate of scrambled eggs to Jason, too.

  She picked up her fork. “Don’t forget your egg.” She took a bite from her own plate, and the four-year-old stuffed a forkful into his mouth without complaint.

  Amazing.

  She took a sip of coffee and eyed the box. “Old clothes?”

  He opened the cardboard flaps and pulled
out a pair of women’s Wranglers. He draped them on a vacant chair. He followed with a Western-style, button-down shirt and a pair of Tony Lama boots, hardly worn. “I hope these are the right size.”

  She finished her eggs, then checked the labels. “They should work. Your wife’s?”

  He nodded, resisting the urge to remind her about the ex part. “If you want to put them on, we’ll meet you down here when you’re ready.”

  She threw the clothes over her forearm and gathered the boots. Halfway down the hall that led to the stairs, she stopped and turned back to face him. “I need to talk to you.”

  He’d known that was coming. “I told you last night. I made the calls. Everything is being taken care of. Other than that, we don’t have much to talk about.”

  “I need to make some calls myself.” She eyed him, somehow looking both firm, as she had the night before, and softer than he expected.

  “Later.”

  She nodded, but she didn’t look satisfied.

  If she was going to lobby him about returning to Denver, about identifying bodies, about doing his part for justice, he wasn’t going to give her the chance. “I promised Jason we’d ride horses. Everything else will have to wait. Please.”

  She looked past him, smiling at Jason who was finishing his last morsels of egg. “Of course.”

  “So we’ll meet you back down here?” he prodded.

  She gave him a reluctant nod and headed up the steps.

  Avoiding this argument might be tougher than he thought. But he wasn’t going to give in. He deserved a moment with his son, and damn it, he was going to take it. Whether Melissa Anderson agreed or not.

  He had breakfast dishes cleared and Jason washed up and ready to go when he heard footsteps coming back down the stairs. He turned around as Melissa made her entrance into the dining room.

  His throat went dry.

  He hadn’t thought much about lending her Gayle’s old clothes. God knew, she’d hardly worn them when she lived here. And she certainly hadn’t thought enough of the jeans and boots to take them with her when she ran off to the city. As far as he was concerned, Gayle had rejected them right along with the ranch and him. But seeing Melissa dressed in those same clothes made him realize how much like Gayle she really looked with her sleek blond hair. Hell, how much like Gayle she was, with her efficient, businesslike manner and the righteous ambition that made her eyes spark like a warrior’s when she was trying to get her way.