by B. J Daniels
“More than you think. But you have to quit arresting Dad.”
He shook his head. “I’m still the sheriff. He has to quit acting up.”
“Well, we’re safe for a while. He’s anxious to get back into the mountains.” She met Flint’s gaze. “You aren’t still worried about him going, are you?”
He glanced toward their father. “I’ll always worry, but no matter what happens, it’s where he wants to be. It’s where he’s happiest. I certainly can’t deny him that.”
Flint moved away and she joined Trask again. “The hardest part is living down my past,” she heard Trask tell her brothers. “Not just my past but my so-called family.”
“You got a raw deal, no doubt about it, but you’ve overcome it. And now you have us for family,” Darby said.
“Which means you really are screwed,” Cyrus said with a laugh and looked around to make sure Ely wasn’t within hearing distance. “At least your old man wasn’t abducted by aliens.”
“I believe him,” Trask said. “Ely isn’t one for hyperbole. Nor does he scare easily, but when he talks about that night, I’ve seen the terror in his eyes.”
Darby studied him for a long moment. “You might be the only one who believes him.”
Trask shrugged. “I’ve read about other people from around the world who claim to have been abducted by aliens. Their stories all have a lot in common.” He glanced up at the vast, clear blue sky overhead. “I think it is pretty arrogant to think that we are the only beings in our galaxy.”
“I didn’t realize it before,” Hawk said, “but you and Lillie are perfect for each other. You’re going to fit right into this family.” He raised his beer in a toast. “Welcome. Always room for another nutcase in the Cahill family, right?”
They ate at a large table, devouring the ribs and the sides Billie Dee had made.
“I love this corn bread,” Darby said. “We have to serve this with your chili at the bar.” The cook beamed at the compliments.
Ely ate with his usual healthy appetite, but Lillie caught him looking toward the mountains longingly. The towering peaks, the rocky cliffs, the stands of cool pines, those were now the loves of his life. But she suspected they were also his escape from whatever haunted him. Aliens or a jungle in Vietnam. They might never know what monsters he had to fear.
But he looked peaceful as he stared at the mountains wistfully. Soon he would be back there again and they wouldn’t see him for maybe months—until she got a call from Flint that their father needed to be bailed out of jail.
After they were stuffed as ticks, Hawk picked up his guitar and began to play an old Western ballad. Lillie watched him, seeing how much he loved to make music. He had talent. Not that he’d ever pursued it. He just enjoyed playing his guitar and she loved to hear him play.
She was smiling to herself when a shadow fell over her. Looking up, she saw Trask standing over her. Devilment danced in his blue eyes, making her heart beat a little faster. “Lillie?” He held out his hand. Her heartbeat picked up the beat of the music as she stood and let him pull her out onto an open space on the wide deck.
“Dance with me,” he said, the deep tone of his voice sending goose bumps skittering over her.
She smiled. There was no place she loved more than being in his arms, she thought as he pulled her to him. Her body fit perfectly into his. She laid her head on his shoulder and breathed in his masculine scent mixed with the smell of the pines and the creek below.
Lillie told herself that she would always remember this moment in time, being in Trask’s arms, her family all around her, Hawk’s music filling the spring afternoon air. She closed her eyes, tucking it neatly away in her heart for keeps—just as she had Trask all those years ago.
* * *
DARBY STOOD IN the doorway of the Stagecoach Saloon kitchen and watched Kendall Raines working behind the bar. Her blond hair was pulled back into a ponytail that swung as she moved. He watched it brush her slim back as she stopped to talk to one of the regulars. Her blue eyes lit and her full mouth turned up in a near blinding smile.
Everyone loved her. She was the perfect employee. So why wasn’t he interested in her?
He shook his head. Maybe Lillie was right and there was something wrong with him.
He walked back into the kitchen, where Billie Dee was making enchiladas.
“Why don’t you ask her out?” the cook said without looking at him. “You have something better to do?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Billie Dee laughed and shook her head.
“She’s not my type.”
The cook turned to give him a disbelieving look. “She’s everyone’s type unless...”
He chuckled. “I like women, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Well, you couldn’t tell it by me.” She turned fully from her cooking to put her hands on her hips as she considered him. “I haven’t seen you date since I got here. What’s up with that?”
“I haven’t met anyone who...interests me. I like a challenge. Someone who intrigues me.”
Billie Dee let out a hoot at that. “Intrigues you, huh?” She shook her head again. “You Cahills, never met such a stubborn, independent bunch. Guess you all want to be bachelors the rest of your lives.”
“There’s worse things,” Darby said and looked back toward the bar. Kendall was laughing with a couple of ranchers at the far end of the bar. She definitely had something about her that drew men, there was no getting around that.
He just wasn’t one of them. “Did Lillie tell you she’s making me go to the Chokecherry Festival this year?”
“I knew that the saloon sponsored part of the festival,” Billie Dee said. “Other than donating money, what else do you have to do?”
“Give a short speech.” Just the thought of it made his stomach roil. “And throw Stagecoach Saloon T-shirts to the crowd.”
The cook turned to look at him and laughed. “I think you can handle that.”
He wished he shared her confidence.
“Maybe you’ll meet someone...intriguing there.”
Darby rolled his eyes, hating that he’d confided in her. “You and my sister. Always trying to marry me off. Why don’t you play matchmaker with my brothers?”
“Because they’re hopeless,” Billie Dee said, sounding serious. “But you, Darby? You, I have hope for.”
* * * * *
Read on for a sneak peek at OUTLAW’S HONOR, New York Times bestselling author B.J. Daniels’s next CAHILL RANCH NOVEL
New York Times bestselling author B.J. Daniels takes you to the small town of Gilt Edge, Montana, in her brand-new Cahill Ranch series.
If you loved Renegade’s Pride, then don’t miss the next book in this captivating series!
Outlaw’s Honor
Mariah Ayres never expected Darby Cahill to be her hero—or the only man she’d need...
Order your copy of Outlaw’s Honor today!
And be sure to keep an eye out for the next Cahill Ranch tale with
Cowboy’s Legacy
Can’t get enough? If you love strong cowboys, hot romance and thrilling suspense, then be sure to catch the thrilling Montana Hamiltons series!
Honor Bound
Into Dust
Hard Rain
Lucky Shot
Lone Rider
Wild Horses
Complete your collection!
“[The Montana Hamiltons] should definitely be on the must read list...a great introduction for new readers to this amazing author.”
—Fresh Fiction
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Outlaw's Honor
by B.J. Daniels
CHAPTER ONE
DARBY CAHILL ADJUSTED his Stetson as he moved toward the bandstand. The streets of Gilt Edge, Montana, were filled with revelers who’d come to celebrate the yearly chokecherry harvest on this beautiful day. The main street had been blocked off for all the events. People had come from miles around for the celebration of a cherry that was so tart it made your mouth pucker.
Darby figured it just proved that people would celebrate anything as he climbed the steps. Normally, his twin sister, Lillie, attended, but this year she was determined that he should do more of their promotion at these events.
“I hate it as much as you do,” she’d assured him. “But believe me. You’ll get more attention up there on the stage than me. Just say a few words, throw T-shirts into the crowd, have some fry bread and come home. You can do this.” Clearly, she knew his weakness for fry bread as well as his dislike of being the center of attention.
The T-shirts were from the Stagecoach Saloon, the bar and café the two of them owned and operated outside of town. Ever since it opened, the bar had helped sponsor the Chokecherry Festival each year.
He heard his name being announced and sighed as he made his way up the rest of the steps to the microphone to deafening applause. He tipped his hat to the crowd, swallowed the lump in his throat and said, “It’s an honor to be here and be part of such a wonderful celebration.”
“Are you taking part in the seed-spitting competition?” someone yelled from the crowd, and others joined in. Along with being bitter, chokecherries were mostly seed.
“I’m going to leave that to the professionals,” he said and reached for the box of T-shirts, wanting this over with as quickly as possible. He didn’t like being in the spotlight any longer than he had to. Also, he hoped that once he started throwing the shirts, everyone would forget about the pit-spitting contest later.
He was in mid-throw when he spotted the woman in the crowd. What had caught his eye was the bright-colored scarf around her dark hair. It fluttered in the breeze, giving him only glimpses of her face.
He let go and the T-shirt sailed through the air as if caught on the breeze. He saw with a curse that it was headed right for the woman’s back. Grimacing, he watched the rolled-up T-shirt clip the woman’s shoulder.
She looked back, clearly startled. He had the impression of serious dark eyes, full lips. Their gazes locked for an instant and he felt something like lightning pierce his heart. For a moment, he couldn’t breathe. Rooted to the spot, all he could hear was the drumming of his heart, the roaring crowd a dull hum in the background.
Someone behind the woman in the crowd scooped up the T-shirt and, scarf fluttering, the woman turned away, disappearing into the throng of people.
What had that been about? His heart was still pounding. What had he seen in those bottomless dark eyes that had him...breathless? He knew what Lillie would have said. Love at first sight, something he would have scoffed at—before moments ago.
“Do you want me to help you?” a voice asked at his side.
Darby nodded to the festival volunteer. He threw a T-shirt, looking in the crowd for the woman. She was gone.
Once the box of T-shirts was empty, he hurriedly stepped off the stage into the moving mass. His job was done. His plan had been to have some fry bread and then head back to the saloon. He was happiest behind the bar. Or on the back of a horse. Being Montana born and raised in open country, crowds made him nervous.
The main street had been blocked off and now booths lined both sides of the street all the way up the hill that led out of town. Everywhere he looked, there were chokecherry T-shirts and hats, dish towels and coffee mugs. Most chokecherries found their way into wine or syrup or jelly, but today he could have purchased the berries in lemonade or pastries or even barbecue sauce. He passed stands of fresh fruit and vegetables, crafts of all kinds and every type of food.
As he moved through the swarm of bodies now filling the downtown street, the scent of fry bread in the air, he couldn’t help searching for the woman. That had been the strangest experience he’d ever had. He told himself it could have been heatstroke had the day been hotter. Also, he felt perfectly fine now.
He didn’t want to make more of it than it was, and yet he’d give anything to see her again. As crazy as it sounded, he couldn’t throw off the memory of that sharp, hard shot to his heart when their gazes had met.
As he worked his way through the crowd, following the smell of fry bread, he watched for the colorful scarf the woman had been wearing. He needed to know what that was about earlier. He told himself he was being ridiculous, but if he got a chance to see her again...
Someone in the crowd stumbled against his back. He caught what smelled like lemons in the air as a figure started to brush by him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the colorful scarf wrapped around her head of dark hair.
Like a man sleepwalking, he grabbed for the end of the scarf as it fluttered in the breeze. His fingers closed on the silken fabric, but only for a second. She was moving fast enough that his fingers lost purchase and dropped to her arm.
In midstep, she half turned toward him, his sudden touch slowing her. In those few seconds, he saw her face, saw her startled expression. He had the bizarre thought that this woman was in trouble. Without realizing it, he tightened his grip on her arm.
Her eyes widened in alarm. It all happened in a matter of seconds. As she tried to pull away, his hand slid down the silky smooth skin of her forearm until it caught on the wide bracelet she was wearing on her right wrist.
Something fell from her hand as she jerked free of his hold. He heard a snap and her bracelet came off in his hand. His gaze went to the thump of whatever she’d dropped as it hit the ground. Looking down, he saw what she’d dropped. His wallet?
Astonishment rocketed through him as he realized that when she’d bumped into him from behind, she’d picked his pocket! Feeling like a fool, he bent to retrieve his wallet. Jostled by the meandering throng, he quickly rose and tried to find her, although he wasn’t sure what exactly he planned to do when he did. Music blared from a Western band over the roar of voices.
He stood holding the woman’s bracelet in one hand and his wallet in the other, looking for the bright scarf in the mass of gyrating festivalgoers.
She was gone.
Darby stared down at his wallet, then at the strange large gold-tinted cuff bracelet and laughed at his own foolishness. His moment of love at first sight had been with a thief? A two-bit pickpocket? Wouldn’t his family love this!
Just his luck, he thought as he pocketed his wallet and considered what to do with what appeared to be heavy, cheap costume jewelry. He’d been lucky. He’d gotten off easy in more ways than one. His first thought was to chuck the bracelet in the nearest trash can and put the whole episode behind him.
But he couldn’t quite shake off the feeling he’d gotten when he’d looked into her eyes—or when he’d realized the woman was a thief. Telling himself it wouldn’t hurt to keep a reminder of his close call, he slipped the bracelet into his jacket pocket.
* * *
MARIAH AYERS GRABBED her bare wrist, the heat of the man’s touch still tingling there. What wasn’t there was her prized bracelet, she realized with a start. Her heart dropped. She hadn’t taken the bracelet off since her grandmother had put it o
n her, making her promise never to take it off.
“This will keep you safe and bring you luck,” her grandmother Loveridge had promised on her deathbed. “Be true to who you are.”
She fought the urge to turn around in the surging throng of people, go find him and demand he give it back. But she knew she couldn’t do that for fear of being arrested. Or worse. So much for the bracelet bringing her luck, she thought, heart heavy. She had no choice but to continue moving as she was swept up in the flowing crowd. Maybe she could find a high perch where she could spot her mark. And then what?
Mariah figured she’d cross that bridge when she came to it. Pulling off her bright-colored scarf, she shoved it into her pocket. It was a great device for misdirection—normally, but now it would be a dead giveaway.
Ahead, she spotted stairs and quickly climbed a half-dozen steps at the front of a bank to stop and look back.
The street was a sea of cowboy hats. One cowboy looked like another to her. How would she ever be able to find him—let alone get her bracelet back given that by now he would know what she’d been up to? She hadn’t even gotten a good look at him. Shaken and disheartened, she told herself she would do whatever it took. She desperately needed that bracelet back—and not just for luck or sentimental reasons. It was her ace in the hole.
Two teenagers passed, arguing over which one of them got the free T-shirt they’d scored. She thought of the cowboy she’d seen earlier up on the stage, the one throwing the T-shirts. He’d looked right at her. Their gazes had met and she’d felt as if he had seen into her dark heart—if not her soul.
No wonder she’d blown a simple pick. She was rusty at this, clearly, but there had been a time when she could recall each of her marks with clarity. She closed her eyes. Nothing. Squeezing them tighter, she concentrated.
With a start, she recalled that his cowboy hat had been a light gray. She focused on her mark’s other physical attributes. Long legs clad in denim, slim hips, muscular thighs, broad shoulders. A very nice behind. She shook off that image. A jean jacket over a pale blue checked shirt. Her pickpocketing might not be up to par, but at least there was nothing wrong with her memory, she thought as she opened her eyes and again scanned the crowd. Her uncle had taught her well.