Storming Whitehorn

by Christine Scott

  So why didn’t he feel vindicated? Why did it feel as though he’d destroyed his last chance at a normal life?

  Fighting the rising tide of bitterness, he told himself Jasmine was better off without him. He’d been on his own for too many years. Even if he wanted to, he wouldn’t know how to care for someone the right way. He’d only end up hurting her more if he stayed and tried to make a life with her.

  Thump. The loud noise came from out of nowhere, startling him. Something large and dark had hit the wind shield. Storm slammed on his brakes, swerving reflexively from danger and sending the car careering into the oncoming lane of traffic. Thankfully, the highway was deserted. No other car was in sight.

  His heart pounding, he corrected his mistake and guided the car back into the right lane. The experience had left him shaken, not sure if he could drive. Besides, he needed to pull over to the side of the road to check for damage.

  His tires whipped up a cloud of dust as he lurched to an unsteady stop. Shifting the gear into park, he tore open the door and stumbled out of the front seat. Relief settled over him at the feel of solid ground beneath his feet. Feeling as though he’d just sprinted five miles, he struggled for a breath and stared at the cracked wind shield.

  The morning air wafted over his flushed skin, cooling his agitated senses. Out of nowhere, an object had appeared and had smashed the wind shield of his rented car. The safety glass had splintered, but held in place. There’d been no cars in front or behind him. Nothing that could have kicked up a loose rock from beneath its tires. Storm frowned. The impact had been too strong for just a pebble. It had to have been something large and heavy.

  A flap of wings caught his attention.

  Storm tore his stunned gaze from the wind shield and squinted up into the sun-drenched sky. Soaring up above him was a large, dark bird. A raven.

  Goose bumps prickled his skin, raising the hairs on the back of his neck. His mind was spinning with confusion. He glanced back at the damaged car and saw for the first time a single black feather lodged beneath the wind shield wipers.

  “Impossible,” he murmured, feeling dazed as he reached for the unbroken feather.

  Running his fingers over the soft, downy tufts, he considered the possibility. He’d been traveling close to sixty miles per hour. If a bird had hit the wind-shield at that speed, it never would have survived the impact.

  But if it wasn’t the bird, then what was it?

  “Forget it,” he said through clenched teeth, his voice lost on the wind that swept the empty expanse of road. “It doesn’t matter if it was a rock, a boulder or a house that landed on the car. The car’s insured. It’s not a problem.”

  Still clutching the black feather, Storm slung himself into the front seat. He slammed the door too hard, causing the rearview mirror to vibrate, pushing his nerves even further on edge. Rocks and dirt spewed from the tires as he swung back onto the highway.

  Tossing the feather to the seat beside him, he concentrated on the road ahead. The speedometer trembled as he pushed down on the accelerator. Fifty…sixty…seventy miles an hour and still climbing. No matter how much it felt like it, he refused to admit that he was running away.

  The miles sped past in a blur. The wind ruffled his hair as it streamed in through the open window. Storm stole a wary glance at the feather. If he were a practicing, traditional Cheyenne, he’d say he’d been given a sign from the spirits. That his brother Raven was trying to communicate with him from the after-world.

  The morbid thought sent a shiver down his spine.

  Even if he believed in the mystical powers of the spirits, which he didn’t, what sort of message would they be trying to send him? That he was driving too fast? Or that he’d taken the wrong road?

  Or maybe that he shouldn’t be leaving, after all?

  Stunned by the thought, Storm eased his foot off the pedal, slowing the car. If it was Raven trying to communicate with him, then why wouldn’t he want him to leave Whitehorn? Raven, of all people, should know the heart ache that the town represented. Surely he wouldn’t want Storm to prolong his suffering.

  Or could it be that he’d left unfinished business behind him? Storm admitted he’d left in a rush, leaving too many loose ends. First, there were Raven’s remains. Once they were released from the coroner’s office, he’d have to call and leave word on a proper burial. And there was Summer. He never did have a chance to tell his niece good-bye. Once again, he was abandoning the only living link to his brother.

  Even more importantly, there was Jasmine.

  The heavy hand of guilt pressed against his heart. As his brother had done before him, he’d allowed the Kincaid family to keep him from the woman he loved. Unlike Raven, however, it was his pride, not his courage that had finally defeated him.

  Raven had stood up to Jeremiah Kincaid. He’d lost his life defending his right to be with Blanche. Storm had given up Jasmine without even a fight.

  It wasn’t any wonder he felt so guilty.

  He couldn’t leave, he realized, not like this.

  Setting his jaw in a hard line of determination, Storm checked his mirrors for traffic. Assuring himself that both lanes were empty, he made a quick U-turn and headed back to Whitehorn.

  “We’re terribly sorry about the cancellation,” Gladys Humphrey said, her round cheeks flushing with discomfort. Her hands fluttered to her throat as she gave a nervous laugh. “Our daughter insists that we come a few days early to visit her in California. Family…I’m sure you must understand.”

  Her husband remained noticeably silent. An impatient frown creasing his bulldog face.

  “Yes, Mrs. Humphrey. I understand,” Jasmine said softly. Her hand felt as heavy as lead as she handed Mrs. Humphrey the credit card receipt for their visit.

  Without another word, the pair turned from the front desk and hurried for the exit. She watched as they stepped outside into the cool morning sunlight, leaving the door open behind them. Once they were out of sight, Jasmine let her shoulders slump in defeat, feeling too tired and drained of energy to even get up and shut the door herself.

  In the past hour, two other guests had checked out early, unexpectedly canceling the rest of their stay at the Big Sky Bed & Breakfast. While their excuses were inventive, as well as polite, Jasmine knew the truth.

  No one wanted to stay in the house of a confessed murderer.

  Out of habit, Jasmine reached for the reassuring weight of the compass around her neck, and felt nothing but smooth, unadorned skin. She inhaled a quick breath as the memory of giving Storm the compass flashed in her mind.

  Though it had been only a few hours since she’d last seen him, it seemed like a lifetime ago.

  After her night away from the B and B, since returning home, she’d been in a rush, hurrying to catch up on neglected chores. After a quick shower and change, she’d made breakfast for their guests. Now, with the house almost empty, it was time to prepare herself for another ordeal. Her mother’s arraignment.

  “Did they leave?”

  Aunt Yvette’s quiet voice startled her. Jasmine glanced up to meet her aunt’s crest fallen face. With a sigh, she nodded. “That’s the last of them. The Humphreys, the Sterlings…they’ve all checked out, canceling the rest of their stay.”

  Yvette clucked her tongue in disapproval. “I don’t know how to tell your mother. She’s going to be so upset. Running the B and B has always been her pride and joy.”

  “Then we won’t tell her that people are canceling their reservations. She’s fragile enough, Yvette. I don’t know if she can handle any more bad news.”

  “I don’t know if I can handle any more bad news, either.” Tears glistened in Yvette’s eyes. She attempted a smile, and failed.

  Jasmine covered her aunt’s hand with hers, squeezing it gently. Good sign, or bad, they hadn’t heard from her mother or the sheriff’s office this morning. According to Yvette, no one had called the night before, either. Even David, their source of information, had been unusually
quiet since her mother’s confession. Not knowing what was happening seemed to make everything that much worse.

  When Jasmine had returned this morning, Yvette hadn’t questioned her absence. Though from the troubled look in her eyes, Jasmine knew Yvette had a good idea where, and with whom, she’d spent the night. However, she was grateful for her aunt’s discretion. Storm’s unexpected departure had been devastating enough. The last thing she needed was to face one of her family’s well-intended inquisitions.

  From the doorway, the sound of a car coming fast down the gravel lane caught her attention. Jasmine frowned, glancing impatiently at her wrist watch. It was getting late. They’d have to be leaving soon for the court house. Now wasn’t the time for a visitor.

  Yvette stepped toward the large front window. Her brow furrowed into a worried frown as she stared outside. “Jasmine, I—” She hesitated, uncertainty shadowing her voice. She looked at her niece. “I think you’d better come here.”

  The urgency of her aunt’s request sent shivers of trepidation down Jasmine’s spine. She rose on unsteady feet and crossed the room to the window. Glancing outside, she blinked in surprise, unable to believe her own eyes.

  Traveling at a quick clip, Storm’s silver-gray luxury car was approaching the B and B.

  “Were you expecting Mr. Hunter?” Yvette asked, searching Jasmine’s face for her reaction.

  Jasmine shook her head, feeling numb. When they’d parted hours earlier, she hadn’t planned to see Storm ever again. He’d made his intentions perfectly clear. He was leaving Whitehorn and her, and he wasn’t looking back.

  She had no idea why he’d returned now.

  The car skidded to a stop in front of the B and B. Not waiting for the dust to settle, Storm stepped out onto the white rock drive. He seemed oblivious to the fine coating of grit powdering his navy blazer. He stood with his hands on his slender hips, staring up at the house. With his hair slicked back from his face, and his chiseled jaw set in a determined line, he looked every bit as formidable and as devastatingly handsome as she’d remembered.

  Her tummy fluttered. She tried not to let her hopes get too high. But his coming here…it was a good sign, wasn’t it? Perhaps he’d changed his mind, after all. Given a little time, maybe he’d decided he could live with everything that had happened between their families. Would it be too much to hope that he was finally ready to let go of the past?

  Not waiting for him to seek her out, she turned from the window and hurried out the door. It wasn’t until she stepped closer and saw his somber face that she slowed her step. Her heart thumped painfully against her chest. Instinctively she knew that whatever he’d come to tell her, it wasn’t the happy ending she’d hoped for.

  Not trusting her own will power, she left a safe distance between them. Feigning a casual tone, she said, “I thought you had left.”

  “I did.” His deep voice echoed in her ears. His eyes never leaving hers, he said, “But there’s something I forgot.”

  She licked her lips, her throat suddenly dry. “What was that?”

  “You.”

  His blunt answer rocked her. The ground shifted beneath her feet. Her world felt as though it were spinning out of control. Reflexively she flinched when he stepped toward her.

  He stopped, looked at her, seeming confused by her reaction.

  Jasmine took a steadying breath. “I—I don’t understand.”

  “There’s nothing to understand. I’m not leaving Whitehorn, not without you.”

  She shook her head. “You can’t be serious. I can’t just…leave.”

  “Yes, you can, Jasmine.” His voice rang with determination. “I want you to go upstairs and pack a bag. There’s a four o’clock flight to Albuquerque. We can both be on that plane.”

  “You want me to leave Whitehorn,” she said, still trying to make sense of the words. “Now? But what about my mother? The arraignment? How could I possibly leave her at a time like this?”

  “There’s no reason to stay, Jasmine,” he said, his tone urgent. “We’ve both been hurt by what’s happened. It’s time for a fresh start. I love you, Jasmine. I want us to make that new start together.”

  “Oh, Storm,” Jasmine said, her voice breaking under the weight of strained emotion.

  She of all people knew just how difficult his coming here must have been. In a show of trust, Storm had finally put his fears behind him. He’d taken that giant first step toward making a commitment. He’d admitted just how much he cared.

  If only it wasn’t too little, too late.

  “I love you, too, Storm. But I can’t leave,” she said, looking at him with all the regret she felt in her heart. “Not now, not like this. Not when my mother needs me.”

  Pain flickered in his eyes before a stony mask of indifference slipped into place. “She lied to you, Jasmine.”

  “Not on purpose. She made a mistake, Storm. I can’t abandon her. Surely you can understand that.”

  He didn’t answer. From the hard expression on his face, Jasmine knew he hadn’t a clue what she was talking about.

  Anger and frustration rose up inside her. Nothing had changed, not really. Just as before, Storm wouldn’t allow his emotions to interfere in his life. When his own family had disappointed him all those years ago, instead of trying to help them, to change the fate they’d been handed, he’d abandoned them. He had run away and hadn’t looked back.

  Now he wanted her to do the same.

  “Maybe you can’t understand, after all,” she said, suddenly too tired to argue. “You’ve always seen things in black and white, haven’t you? You’ve never been able to forgive and forget, even the smallest of mistakes. But I can.”

  Her voice broke. Tears blurred her vision. She swallowed hard, struggling to find the strength to finish what must be said. “I’m sorry, Storm. But I can’t go with you to Albuquerque. My home is here in Whitehorn. I wish you could understand. My mother needs me. I won’t abandon her. Not now, not ever.”

  With that, she turned her back on him. Striding to the front porch, she climbed the stairs, taking them two at a time, hurrying to put a safe distance between them. But in her heart she knew she would never be able to outrun the memory of his confused, pain-lined face.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The court house was unusually crowded.

  Throngs of spectators milled in the halls, waiting for the show to begin. Despite the short notice, Jasmine wasn’t surprised by the large turnout of local citizens. Whitehorn was a small town. Bad news traveled fast.

  Besides, her mother had a reputation as an odd-ball. It wasn’t any wonder that her latest example of eccentric behavior had drawn curiosity seekers. And, thanks to Jasmine’s late uncle, Jeremiah Kincaid, and his ability to stir up trouble, people around these parts would travel far and wide to see what further trouble he could wreak, even from the grave.

  A sudden hush fell across the court house as Jasmine made her way through the crowd. By standers scattered, making room for her, staring as she passed. Keeping her eyes focused straight ahead and her head held high, Jasmine was determined to not let the people of Whitehorn see the devastating effect her mother’s murder confession had had upon her. No matter what the cost to her pride, she was here to support her mother.

  Even if it meant losing everything she held dear—including the man she loved.

  Jasmine strode to the front of the room, anxious to join her family. Aunt Yvette and Uncle Edward scooted over, making room for her in the first row behind the defendant’s table.

  Cleo leaned forward from her seat in the second row. “You’re late,” she whispered.

  “I couldn’t help it,” Jasmine said, grimacing. “The parking lot was full. I had to park the Jeep a block past the movie theater and walk the rest of the way. Have I missed anything?”

  Cleo shook her head. “Nothing’s happened yet. There’s been a delay.”

  “A delay?” Jasmine frowned, her stomach churning with unease. “What sort of delay?�
��

  “They won’t tell us,” Yvette chimed in, keeping her voice hushed. “All I know is that Ross Garrison, the attorney we hired for Celeste, came out and told us there was a meeting going on in the judge’s chambers. And that as soon as he heard anything, he’d let us know.”

  “Is that good news or bad?” Jasmine asked, her frown deepening.

  Yvette shrugged. “It’s anyone’s guess.”

  The tall, silver-haired figure of Garrett Kincaid caught her eye. Ignoring the curious stares of the crowd, he strode toward Jasmine and her family. Resting one hand on the back of her seat, Garrett leaned forward and whispered, “Something’s going on. The sheriff and his deputies were out at the ranch house last night. They spent the whole night searching my study. Made a damn mess, too.” He grunted his dissatisfaction. “Even tore a hole in the wall behind my desk.”

  “Did they say anything?” Jasmine asked, trying not to let her anxiety show through.

  “Not to me they didn’t,” he said, giving his head an impatient shake. “But I’d never seen such a bunch of grim faces. If you ask me, things weren’t going as smooth as the sheriff had planned.” Frowning, he glanced around the crowded room. “Well, I’d better be going if I want to find a seat. You tell your mama that if there’s anything I can do, she should just call.”

  Jasmine gave a polite smile, but didn’t answer. At the moment there was nothing any of them could do. Her mother had confessed to the crime of murder. It would be in the hands of the court to decide her fate.

  The minutes passed excruciatingly slowly. The din of excited voices reverberated through the courtroom, echoing off of the walls. The noise gave Jasmine a pounding headache, making the ordeal even more discomfiting. When a sudden hush fell across the room, she wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or even more worried.

  Something, or someone, had gotten the crowd’s attention.

  The buzz of voices resumed, only louder this time. Though she was dying of curiosity, Jasmine refused to turn around to look to see who, other than her mother, could be causing such a stir in the crowd. Which is why she jumped in her seat when someone tapped her shoulder.