Chase's Promise

by Lois Faye Dyer

  Raine turned, her eyes widening.

  Chase was handsome in faded jeans and dusty cowboy boots, but in a tuxedo, he could stop traffic. “Hello,” she managed to say.

  “Hello.” His gaze swept her from head to toe, then returned with disconcerting slowness until he looked into her eyes again. The heat in his own eyes left no doubt that he liked what he saw.

  Raine felt his slow survey as if he’d stroked his hand over her bare skin. Her body reacted with heat that began low in her belly, spreading quickly until she burned.

  “So,” she said nervously. “How does it feel to be consorting with the enemy?”

  He laughed, the deep chuckle reverberating up her spine.

  “Ask me again when this is over. I’ll let you know.”

  Dear Reader,

  Before I became a published author, I worked in the legal field. As I sat in courtrooms and listened to judges handing down jail sentences, I often wondered what happened to those convicted people and their families after their day in court. How did being incarcerated affect a person’s character? What happened to their loved ones while they were locked away in a jail cell? And how did the experience change and shape all of their lives five, ten or fifteen years later?

  Those questions and exploring possible answers became the heart of THE MCCLOUDS series. Chase McCloud was changed irrevocably when he was unjustly convicted as a teenager—and the events leading to his imprisonment also changed Raine Harper’s life forever. Fifteen years later, is it possible these two people can heal old hurts for both their families and forge a future together?

  I hope you enjoy Chase and Raine’s story, and that you’ll return to Wolf Creek with me for the fourth and last installment in THE MCCLOUDS OF MONTANA when Trey Harper is determined to expose long-hidden secrets and bring justice to the McClouds.

  Best wishes,

  Lois Faye Dyer

  CHASE’S PROMISE

  LOIS FAYE DYER

  Books by Lois Faye Dyer

  Silhouette Special Edition

  Lonesome Cowboy #1038

  He’s Got His Daddy’s Eyes #1129

  The Cowboy Takes a Wife #1198

  The Only Cowboy for Caitlin #1253

  Cattleman’s Courtship #1306

  Cattleman’s Bride-To-Be #1457

  Practice Makes Pregnant #1569

  Cattleman’s Heart #1611

  The Prince’s Bride #1640

  *Luke’s Proposal #1745

  *Jesse’s Child #1776

  *Chase’s Promise #1791

  LOIS FAYE DYER

  lives on Washington State’s beautiful Puget Sound with her yellow Lab, Maggie Mae, and two eccentric cats. She loves to hear from readers and you can write to her c/o Paperbacks Plus, 1618 Bay Street, Port Orchard, WA 98366.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter One

  Wolf Creek, Montana

  Early Spring

  Chase McCloud stared at his grandfather’s casket, ignoring the group of mourners huddled beneath umbrellas on the far side of the open grave. The wind picked up, carrying the scent of sage as it whipped the prairie with a flurry of icy raindrops.

  His little sister shivered, clutching his hand tighter, and he bent toward her. “Are you okay, Jessie?” he asked gently, scanning her tear-streaked face.

  She nodded beneath the mop of auburn curls, but her expression was filled with fear as she darted a glance over her shoulder.

  Chase squeezed her hand reassuringly.

  Anger coursing through him, he knew without looking what frightened Jessie. A uniformed Montana Department of Corrections officer stood several yards behind them. The officer had removed Chase’s handcuffs when they’d arrived at the cemetery and the metal restraints were clipped on the police issue leather belt, just behind his holstered gun. The officer had respected the family’s grief and stood silently. Nonetheless, Chase was aware the man’s attention never wavered; he swore he could almost feel the officer’s searing scrutiny.

  Chase focused on the mahogany casket, purposely blanking his mind to all else. Fresh grief slammed through him. His grandfather had been a powerful, guiding influence in his life. The knowledge that Angus McCloud would no longer give him wise advice, that Chase would never again hear him laugh with delight over a new joke, was incomprehensible.

  Tears burned behind his eyelids. He narrowed his eyes, forbidding the tears to fall. Raising his gaze from the casket, he turned his focus to the mourners on the far side of the grave.

  His grandfather’s lifelong friends and neighbors had known Chase for all of his seventeen years but now they either refused to meet his eyes or glared at him with accusation and disdain.

  Clearly, few of them believed he’d been jailed unjustly.

  Chase sighted the five members of the Kerrigan family. Fifteen-year-old Zach Kerrigan stood next to his mother and little sister, his stance protective. Just beyond them was Laura Kerrigan-McCloud, Angus McCloud’s widow.

  He still didn’t understand why his grandfather had married Laura Kerrigan. They were both in their late seventies when they’d wed despite the vehement protests of both their families. The marriage appeared to bring a quiet contentment for Angus but hadn’t drawn the families any closer together. The McClouds had been feuding with the Kerrigans since 1922, when a crooked poker game cost a McCloud 2500 acres of prime land. Over the years, the two families had argued and fought over a variety of grievances and there was no love lost between them—except for Angus and Laura.

  Now the white-haired widow stood apart from her late husband’s family, leaning heavily on the arm of her nephew, Harlan Kerrigan.

  Harlan’s gaze met Chase’s and the older man’s lip curled in a sneer. Despite the bitter rage that swelled in his chest, Chase didn’t react, just looked away. Harlan’s son, Lonnie hadn’t come.

  It’s probably a good thing Lonnie’s not here, Chase thought. Granddad’s funeral is hard enough on Mom and Dad. Not the place for me to meet Lonnie.

  He swept the crowd again, hoping to catch a glimpse of any members of the Harper family but none of them were at the graveside.

  The stab of loss and regret was unavoidable. Chase steeled himself against letting the pain change his expression.

  He and Mike Harper had been best friends since grade school and now Mike’s family with no doubt believed Chase was responsible for his death. The twelve people sitting on the Wolf Creek jury certainly had—they’d convicted him of vehicular manslaughter, based on the testimony of Harlan and Lonnie Kerrigan.

  I’m the only one who knows it’s not true. Once again he met Harlan Kerrigan’s hostile gaze. Correction, he thought grimly. Both Harlan and Lonnie know who really killed Mike.

  Seething with bitterness, Chase focused on the casket once again, concentrating on breathing in and out with slow, measured inhales and exhales. He’d learned the method from a tough, no-nonsense guard at the correctional facility a week after he’d arrived at the institution. Defending himself in a brawl in the exercise yard had resulted in a six-inch knife wound and the guard had taken him to the infirmary to have the deep cut stitched. Following the guard’s advice, he’d signed up for meditation classes. Combined with long hours spent weight lifting and working out, after two months he’d become strong enough to enforce his desire for solitude. As a result, the other inmates now left him alone.

  Alone was just fine; being left alone was what he wanted. He planned to do his time and get out.

  He drew in
a deep breath, filling his lungs with cold air and the scent of sagebrush. Freedom. He craved it.

  But first, he had to survive the next few years locked away for a crime he hadn’t committed.

  Raine and Trey Harper lay flat on their bellies, peering around the sagebrush. From their vantage point atop the low hill, the twelve-year-olds had an unobstructed view of the Wolf Creek Cemetery and the cluster of people around the open grave.

  “He looks different,” Raine said. “Don’t you think Chase looks different, Trey?”

  Her brother stared hard at the McClouds. “He looks sad. And older. Maybe thinner. I wonder if he gets good food in jail.”

  “I hope so.” Raine fell silent. “I miss Mike. And I miss Chase, too. I wish this year never happened.”

  “Well, it did.” Trey didn’t face her but she knew he was fighting back tears, just as she was. She always knew when her twin was upset, just as he knew things about her without asking. Their mother said twins were connected in some weird way. Raine didn’t think of it as strange; for her it was normal.

  “I don’t believe Chase hurt Mike on purpose, do you?” she asked.

  “People say he did. Mom believes he did.”

  “But Dad said Chase says he didn’t. Do you think he did?”

  “No.” Trey looked at her, his gray eyes fierce. “I don’t.”

  “Me, either.” She looked away from him, back down the hill. “But he’s still gone away and we never get to see him—just like Mike, only Mike’s dead and Chase isn’t. Do you think Chase will ever come back?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe someday, when I find out what really happened.”

  “Do you think Mom will believe you?” Raine didn’t understand her mother since Mike was killed. She stayed in her bedroom, crying day and night. Sometimes it felt like she no longer even remembered Raine and Trey were in the house. It was scary and so sad it made Raine feel like crying, too.

  “Probably not.” Trey’s voice was bleak.

  Below them, the service seemed to be finished. The mourners started walking toward their cars.

  Trey scooted backward. “Come on, Raine. We don’t want anyone to see us. We’ll be in trouble with Dad for sure if he knows we came out here.”

  Raine inched backward, rocks and twigs scratching her ankles where her jeans rode up above her socks. When the slope of the hill hid them from view, they stood, racing to their bikes and pedaling furiously down the little-used dirt road back to town, hurrying to get home before they were missed.

  Fifteen years later

  Late August

  Gravel crunched under her car’s wheels as Raine Harper braked, slowing to read the name printed on the mailbox atop its sturdy black metal post.

  “C. McCloud,” she said aloud, stopping her car and letting the engine idle.

  Chase McCloud’s home lay thirty miles southeast of Wolf Creek, at the farthest boundary of McCloud Enterprises land amid towering buttes and deep coulees. No fertile fields of wheat or oats softened the landscape here. Instead, barbed wire fences marched for miles along the sharply curved road, dividing the gravel highway from untamed land. Outcroppings of shale and cliffs of clay dropped precipitously to create miniature canyons where swift-running creeks sparkled in the sunlight.

  Raine knew that farther south, the land grew even wilder in the Missouri Breaks. But here, blocky red-and-white Hereford cattle, horses and the occasional pair of pronghorn antelope grazed on clumps of tough grass scattered amid gray-green sagebrush.

  Rumor had it that Chase McCloud had purposely chosen to live on this outer section of his family’s property because he wanted to get as far away from Wolf Creek residents as possible. Raine had no idea whether the gossip was true and she couldn’t afford to care.

  The reclusive bounty hunter might not want visitors. He probably wouldn’t welcome a Harper knocking on his door. But she needed him. She was desperate and he was the only man in the county who had experience in locating missing persons.

  He owes me, she thought. He owes my family. She shifted the car into gear and turned off the highway onto the graveled lane.

  The well-maintained road followed the bulge of a towering rocky butte. Raine rounded a curve and caught her breath, staring at the house and outbuildings tucked against the foot of a butte across the broad valley stretching in front of her. The house was a weathered A-frame with glass across the entire front. Built of peeled logs, it was surrounded by green lawn and tall maple trees. The barn, corrals and other outbuildings were all constructed of logs with the same aged, silvery look.

  The road cut straight across the valley. Raine drove over a sturdy log bridge spanning a clear-running creek then onto the graveled drive that led to the ranch yard. She parked in front of the house and got out, pausing to survey the cluster of buildings.

  Very impressive, she thought, grudgingly acknowledging the care and prosperity evident in the well kept headquarters.

  A wrought iron fence surrounded the house and yard. The gate’s latch gave easily under her hand and she pushed it wide, turning to fasten it behind her. Her footsteps echoed on the wooden decking as she approached the screened door and rapped briskly. No one answered. The house was silent except for the musical tinkling of a wind chime as it swayed in the slight breeze.

  The delicate wind chime and the scrolls of the iron fence were the only colorful touches, no pots of flowers graced the deck and the doormat was a serviceable thick brown straw.

  Walking over to the edge of the deck, Raine shaded her eyes with her hand, searching the ranch yard.

  All seemed quiet, the buildings and corrals drowsing in the hot sun. Her heart sank with disappointment.

  He’s not here.

  Chase McCloud was elusive. According to rumor, he often disappeared for stretches of time, traveling back to Seattle where he’d worked as a bounty hunter for so long. He was said to still take cases for the company on occasion and to be a silent partner in the exclusive investigative agency.

  Raine didn’t know what she’d do if he’d left town again. Increasingly frustrated and impatient, she’d been waiting for days already. Finally Chase had returned to Wolf Creek.

  She needed to see him now. She couldn’t afford to wait until tomorrow or next week.

  She rapped on the door again, listening for movement inside while rubbing her knuckles.

  Discouraged, she went back to her car, pausing with the door open while her gaze swept the ranch yard and buildings one last time. Just as she’d given up, the sound of a hammer ringing on metal reached her ears.

  She turned, looking all around the buildings. The ring of hammer against iron sounded again, not a single blow this time but a rhythmic tapping.

  As Raine headed toward the sound, she caught sight of a trace of smoke coming from the chimney atop an outbuilding beyond the barn.

  She crossed the graveled ranch yard quickly, dust puffing up beneath her sandals. The nearer she drew, the louder the hammering grew. She rounded the side of the building and found long sliding doors pushed wide on their tracks, leaving the space open to the elements across one whole side. She stepped into the shadowy interior and halted, stunned.

  A man, stripped to his waist, stood at an old-fashioned forge. Sweat had dampened his black hair and the heavy muscles of his upper torso gleamed, his tanned skin marked with numerous scars.

  He looked up when she entered, his blue eyes narrowing as he appeared to evaluate her in one searing glance before returning his attention to the piece of red-hot metal on the anvil.

  “Chase McCloud?” she asked, although she recognized the fierce blue eyes and handsome, sharp-planed features. She’d seen him a month or more earlier when she’d literally bumped into him one afternoon. On her way to talk to Trey in his apartment above the Saloon, she’d just stepped inside the bar door as Chase was leaving. Taken by surprise, he’d walked into her, grabbing her arms to keep from knocking her down. His apology for colliding with Raine had been abrupt and distracted.
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  She certainly remembered him but she doubted he remembered her. She knew what he’d seen in that one swift look—the same mahogany hair and gray eyes he’d been familiar with when she was a little girl and he was her oldest brother’s best friend. Yet she’d caught no flicker of recognition on his face just now before he turned back to the forge.

  “I’m McCloud.”

  “I’m Raine Harper,” she began.

  “I know who you are,” he interrupted. “What are you doing here?” He didn’t look at her, his attention focused on the hot iron, turning it as he hammered, shaping the glowing end into a long, graceful curve.

  Raine tucked her fingertips into the front pockets of her jeans. “I want to hire you.”

  “To do what?”

  “Find my brother—he disappeared over two weeks ago. I haven’t heard from him and no one’s seen him for seventeen days.”

  “Did you call the cops?”

  “Yes. But they tell me they’ve reached a dead end. They won’t resume an active search unless there are new leads to follow. That’s why I want to hire you.”

  “No.”

  Raine blinked. “Why not?”

  Chase tapped the hammer against the iron curve one last time and turned to thrust the metal into a barrel. The hiss of cold water meeting hot iron was accompanied by steam rolling upward. He took a ragged towel from his back pocket and rubbed his face and hair, then scrubbed it over his chest before tossing it on the bench behind him.

  He picked up a black T-shirt lying next to the damp towel and pulled it over his head and arms, yanking it down as he came toward her.

  Raine tensed as he approached but he simply walked past her and out into the sunlight.

  “Wait!” She hurried after him. “The least you can do is give me a reason—tell me why you won’t look for Trey.”