Storming Whitehorn

by Christine Scott

  Jasmine whirled to face the newcomer. Her breath caught in her throat, her eyes widened in surprise as she stared up into Storm’s hesitant face.

  “If it isn’t too late,” he said, loud enough for those around them to hear, “I’d like to sit beside you during your mother’s arraignment.”

  Her mouth opened to answer, but the words of acceptance wouldn’t form. For a heart-stuttering moment Jasmine couldn’t answer. She was still too stunned by his unexpected appearance to speak.

  Her heart racing, she tried to make sense of it all. Instead of leaving town, Storm had stayed. He was here, in the court house, wanting to join her at a time when she needed him most. The implication of his change of heart was obvious.

  He was telling her in his own way that he was ready to forgive and forget the past.

  He was ready to stand beside her, and her family, no matter what the outcome of today’s arraignment.

  Tears of relief prickled her eyes. Biting her lip to stop the maudlin show of emotion, Jasmine nodded and scooted over to make room for Storm beside her on the bench.

  It was a tight fit. Jasmine had to tuck her arm beneath Storm’s wide shoulder. The rest of their bodies—hips, thighs, and legs—were pressed together, not an inch of space to spare. But she didn’t mind. She savored the warm, secure feel of his body next to hers.

  With an audible sigh of relief, Storm picked up her hand in his, linking his fingers with hers. No other words were necessary. His supportive actions spoke volumes to her, and to those around them.

  If it wasn’t for her mother’s impending arraignment, Jasmine had never felt happier or more contented. If she hadn’t been certain of the future before, she was sure now. Despite the obstacles standing between them, Storm had found his way back to her. He’d proven to her that he was her soul mate, her one true love. In her heart, she had always known they were destined to be together.

  Once again, a hush fell across the room.

  This time her mother’s appearance in the courtroom had caused the reaction. Dressed in a pale, peach-colored tunic and matching pants, Celeste looked tired and frail. Without makeup, the dark circles beneath her eyes were even more obvious. Her hair, normally so carefully styled, hung limp and unkempt around her face. She wore a confused, almost dazed look.

  Jasmine’s heart lurched at Celeste’s disheveled appearance. She stood, reaching out to her mother. But before she could murmur a word of reassurance, the Blue River County district attorney, followed closely by the presiding judge, entered the courtroom. The bailiff called out the opening of the session, warning the crowd to stand and be silent.

  Obligingly the crowd grew quiet. Only the shifting of feet as the crowd stood sounded in the room.

  Taking his seat at the bench, the judge picked up his gavel and rapped it sharply. “Be seated.” Over the noise of settling bodies, he narrowed an impatient glance at the district attorney. “Mr. Corwin, do you have a motion for me?”

  Clearing his throat, the D.A. rose to his feet. “Yes, Your Honor. If it pleases the court, the state requests that all charges against Celeste Kincaid Monroe be dropped.”

  A roar of astonishment swept the court room.

  Jasmine’s heart leaped in her chest. Her shocked gaze traveled from her mother’s confused face to Storm’s startled look. Everyone seemed surprised by the turn of events.

  The judge rapped his gavel, once, twice, three times before the uproar subsided. His expression stern, he said, “Motion granted. All charges are dropped. The case is dismissed.”

  After a final tap of his gavel, the judge stood and left the court room, disappearing through his chamber doors. With his departure, all hell broke loose through out the court room. From the four corners of the room, the crowd speculated with various degrees of surprise and outrage on this unexpected turn of events.

  Despite the confusion spinning in his own mind, Storm put a protective arm around Jasmine’s shoulder, shielding her from the startled outburst of the crowd. He leaned close and said, “Do you have any idea what’s happening?”

  She shook her head. “No, I haven’t a clue. I’m just as much in the dark as you are.”

  Sheriff Rawlings, accompanied by Detective Gretchen Neal, approached the defense table. Spotting Storm and Jasmine’s family in the crowd, he motioned for them to join him. Pointing to a side door, he said, “I think it’d be better if we waited out the crowd in one of the conference rooms.” He nodded at Storm. “It’ll give me a chance to explain the situation to you, Mr. Hunter. As well as to Mrs. Monroe’s family.”

  Storm didn’t bother to argue. Any protest would have been lost over the excited voices of the crowd. Instead, along with Jasmine and her family, Storm allowed himself to be shepherded into a nearby conference room.

  The sudden stillness of the room felt as welcome as a cooling breath of relief. Looking exhausted, Celeste collapsed into a nearby chair. Yvette and Cleo took chairs on either side, flanking Celeste in a show of support. The rest of the family hovered nearby, leaving Storm to feel like an intruder in this private scene. Instead of joining her family, to his grateful relief, Jasmine remained beside him.

  At the opposite end of the room, Sheriff Rawlings conferred with Gretchen Neal in a whispered conversation. The detective shook her head, her response too quiet to overhear. Then, with a quick nod, Sheriff Rawlings turned his attention to the small group. “I guess you must be wondering what’s going on. Before I give you the details, I want to apologize for springing all of this on you on such short notice. If we’d been given more time, we would have informed you of the new developments in the case before the court appearance today.”

  “What new developments, Sheriff?” David Hannon demanded. He stood at the opposite end of the conference table, keeping a discreet distance from Storm.

  The sheriff sighed, looking tired and worn out. “Yesterday, after hearing Mrs. Monroe’s confession, Detective Neal and I went out to the ranch house to take another look at the crime scene.”

  Crime scene…Garrett’s study at the ranch house. Jasmine glanced up at Storm. From the startled look in her eyes, Storm realized that for the first time she’d finally gotten the connection between the study and his odd behavior on the day they’d visited Garrett Kincaid. She now knew that he’d had one of his feelings during their visit, that he had sensed the study as being the place where Raven had died.

  Storm met her gaze with a steady look of his own. Sensing her surprise, he reached a reassuring arm around her shoulders and pulled her close.

  Giving Celeste an apologetic glance, Sheriff Rawlings said, “I’ll be honest with you, Mrs. Monroe. Something about your confession just didn’t ring true.”

  “But I told you everything just as it happened,” Celeste said, shaking her head and looking confused.

  “Just as you thought it had happened,” Sheriff Rawlings said, his words firm, brooking no argument. “Let me tell you what we found. First of all, the gun you gave us didn’t match the type of bullet that we’d found lodged in Raven Hunter’s remains.”

  A murmur of surprise rose from the group.

  Ignoring the reaction, the sheriff continued. “In the ranch house study, we examined the wall exactly opposite of where you told us that you stood on the night Raven Hunter died. After a little digging inside the wall we found the bullet that you’d fired. Also, hidden behind the wall board, we found another gun. A gun that we believe to be the murder weapon.” The sheriff glanced across the room, looking directly at Storm. “There was only one set of finger prints on that gun. And they belonged to Jeremiah Kincaid.”

  Storm flinched at the news. Jasmine placed a hand on his arm, glancing up at him with a look of concern. Then, just as quickly as it had taken hold, he felt the tension gripping his muscles slowly relax. Along with the truth finally came acceptance. Storm had always believed Jeremiah to be the murderer. That was why he’d been so shocked by Celeste’s confession. Now, despite everything, he found comfort in the fact that he had
n’t been wrong, after all.

  Sheriff Rawlings heaved a sigh. “It’s my and Detective Neal’s opinion that, in the course of the fight between Jeremiah and Raven, Jeremiah used the distraction of his sister’s entrance into the study as an opportunity to pull a gun from hiding and shoot Raven point-blank in the stomach. The trajectory of the bullet lodged in Raven’s rib cage confirms this theory. Given the new evidence, we had no choice but to let Mrs. Monroe go free.”

  A stunned silence filled the room.

  Then Cleo let out a whoop of disbelief, breaking the stillness. “That nasty old bastard. I only wish Jeremiah hadn’t died so we could nail his ornery old hide to the wall.”

  “Cleo, really,” Celeste said, a shocked look on her face. But the look quickly dissolved into a wan smile.

  The ice had finally been broken. Hugs and congratulations were exchanged among Jasmine and her family.

  Storm stood at the fringe of the group, feeling out of place, overwhelmed by what had just occurred. He’d been ready to support Jasmine and her family, no matter what might have happened. But the charges had been dropped, the mystery was solved, and all had been accomplished without the tragedy of tearing Jasmine’s family apart.

  The worst was over. Now all that was left was to wait to see if Jasmine’s family would be able to accept him as a part of her life.

  As though sensing his unease, Jasmine crossed the room to rejoin him. A slow smile lit her face as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close. “It’s over, Storm,” she whispered. “It’s finally over.”

  Without waiting for a response, she stood on tiptoe and kissed him. A long, sultry kiss on the lips. A kiss that promised so much more to come.

  Lost in Jasmine’s embrace, Storm didn’t notice Celeste’s approach until he heard a discreet clearing of the throat. Abruptly he ended the kiss. Not quite as intimidated by the intrusion, keeping her arm anchored at his waist, Jasmine turned to face her mother.

  Looking from her daughter to Storm, Celeste took a deep breath, then released it with a sigh. “First of all, I’d like to apologize to you, Storm. My behavior toward you since your return to Whitehorn has been abominable. I can only hope, under the circumstances, you understand why I felt the need to distance myself from you.”

  Storm opened his mouth to answer.

  Celeste held up a quieting hand. “Before you say anything, hear me out. At first I tried to convince Jasmine that you and she were ill-matched. With good reason, I might add. Not only is there a difference in your ages, but the history between our families seemed to be working at odds against the two of you. But now…” Her voice broke. She swallowed hard as tears of remorse filled her eyes. “Now, seeing the two of you together, I realize that standing between you and Jasmine is wrong. Just as it was wrong for Jeremiah to keep Blanche and Raven apart.”

  Storm felt his heart catch with surprise. He’d never thought he would hear a Kincaid admit that she was wrong. Perhaps there was such a thing as a miracle, after all.

  With a trembling smile Celeste said, “My daughter is a very determined woman. She’s told me that you are the man she’s meant to be with. I believe her. So much so that I’d like to be the first to welcome you into our family…if you’ll have us.”

  For the first time in his life Storm felt the power of love. Despite the differences between them, Jasmine’s mother was ready to forgive and forget, all for the sake of her daughter’s happiness. He envied Jasmine and her family for the closeness they shared.

  “I’d like that very much, Mrs. Monroe.” He glanced at Jasmine, raising a questioning brow. “That is, if Jasmine still wants me to be a part of her life.”

  “Don’t be silly.” Jasmine laughed. “Of course, I still want you in my life. I’d never given up hope, Storm.” A twinkle of mischief lit her eye. “Why do you think I gave you my compass? I knew it would lead you back home, where you belonged.”

  Home. The word had never sounded so good. It described perfectly the way he felt in his heart. It was as though, after a long and trying journey, he’d finally found his way home.

  Home, in Jasmine’s arms.

  Epilogue

  The crowd spilled out of the living room of the B and B and into the large front lobby. Unlike the grim court house scene of just two months earlier, this gathering was a celebration of new beginnings.

  Today, Jasmine and Storm’s wedding day, there were no unhappy endings allowed.

  Jasmine had chosen a simple white dress for the occasion. It was a form-fitting style, with a flared hem that ended just above her knees and emphasized the slender curves of her body. In deference to the day, instead of her usual black cowboy boots, she wore a special pair of white ones. Hand-tooled, of course. In place of a veil, tiny sprigs of mountain wild flowers were pinned in her hair. Other than the gold-plated compass around her neck—the gift Storm had returned when he’d decided not to venture beyond Whitehorn’s boundaries ever again—she wore no other jewelry. As of yet.

  Jasmine frowned. Maybe she’d taken back the compass too soon, she mused as she searched the crowd for the wayward man of her dreams.

  Storm was nowhere in sight.

  By the living room fire place, she spotted David and Gretchen Neal, deep in a conversation with Cleo and Ethan Redford. Frannie and her husband, Austin Parker, sidled up to join the boisterous group. As Jasmine passed by, they raised their champagne glasses in a mock toast.

  With a grin and a wave, she continued past, determined not to be deterred from her goal—finding Storm.

  Her mother, Aunt Yvette and Uncle Edward were stationed at the front door, greeting their guests as they arrived. Celeste raised an eyebrow in question as Jasmine neared.

  “Storm?” Jasmine mouthed in a silent question.

  Celeste shrugged, looking beautiful and refreshed, more like her old self in a gauzy dusty-rose caftan.

  Yvette pointed to the back of the house, toward the kitchen. “I think I saw him heading that way just a few minutes ago.” A mischievous smile touched her face. “Actually, I believe it was more like he was led against his will. The group he was with looked very persuasive.”

  Jasmine sighed her impatience. Though she wasn’t usually a stickler for punctuality, this was one ceremony she didn’t want to be late for.

  Her boots thumped against the wooden floor as she strode down the wide hall and made a beeline for a group of guests who were lingering in the corridor outside the kitchen. Among them she recognized a smiling Summer and Gavin Night hawk. Garrett Kincaid stood next to Jackson Hawk and his wife, Maggie. In the center of the group, she finally spotted Storm.

  He smiled when he saw her, looking much too handsome in his dark suit and starched-white shirt, making it hard to stay impatient with him. The whiteness of his shirt contrasted nicely with the coppery hue of his skin and his long, dark hair. His eyes twinkled with amusement at her exasperated expression.

  Instead of irritation, a hot surge of longing thrummed through her veins. Jasmine sucked in a steadying breath, getting a grip on her runaway libido. Later, she told herself, there would be plenty of time to satisfy her more lustful needs.

  For now there was a wedding that was about to begin without the bride and the groom.

  She plunged through the group and found her way to his side. “Storm,” she said, her calm voice belying the butterflies dancing in her stomach, “do you have any idea what time it is?”

  “Funny you should ask,” Jackson said, interrupting her demand. “We were just trying to convince Storm to adopt the more traditional ways of the Cheyenne. Unlike the Anglos, keeping an eye on the clock just isn’t as important to our people. We follow a more natural time rhythm.” He made a waving motion with his hand. “You know…go with the flow?”

  “I’m sorry, Jackson. But time’s important when you have fifty guests and a minister waiting for you,” Jasmine countered, smiling through clenched teeth.

  Maggie Hawk gave her husband’s arm a playful swat. “Don’t li
sten to him, Jasmine. Jackson is the most impatient man I’ve ever met. He’s more of a stickler for schedules than he’d ever own up to.”

  Jackson glowered at his wife before planting a loving kiss on the tip of her nose.

  “Now, don’t you be mad at Storm, Jasmine,” Garrett Kincaid drawled. “If he got a little side tracked, trust me, it wasn’t his fault. We’ve just been discussing a little business with him.”

  “Business?” Today of all days? she added silently.

  As though he’d read her mind, Storm reached out and pulled her into his arms. His breath tickled her ear as he whispered, “I didn’t exactly have a choice.”

  Jackson slapped Storm on the back, a wide grin splitting his face. “Storm has just agreed to act as tribal counsel for us on the Laughing Horse Reservation.”

  Jasmine blinked in surprise. While they hadn’t discussed future plans in detail, Storm had assured her that he had no intention of leaving Whitehorn and forcing her to choose between her family and him. She’d been grateful for his decision, but she’d wondered what he intended to do now that he had closed his law office in New Mexico.

  Storm was watching her closely, measuring her for a reaction. Jasmine considered the possibility. The thought of him returning to his roots on the reservation warmed her heart. It was where he was born, where he belonged. It was another important step in his acceptance of the past.

  She smiled up at him. “I think that it’s a wonderful idea. Congratulations, Storm.”

  His smile of relief sent a shiver down her spine. He truly was a most amazing man. In the past two months he’d seemed to change in front of her very eyes. He was more open with his feelings. She’d noticed a gradual letting go of his inhibitions. When, as a wedding present, her mother had given them a parcel of land along Blue Mirror Lake to build a house, the last of his insecurities seemed to have vanished. She’d even caught him smiling, relaxing, truly enjoying himself in her family’s company.