Chapter Eleven
The next morning, with new tires on the truck, Jacklyn filled up the gas tank, then picked up the horse trailer and enough supplies to last a good three days.
“So we’re headed for Leroy Edmonds’s place?” Dillon asked, as Jack pointed the rig north again. “I thought you said his ranch was to the east?”
“First stop is Waters’s spread. I need to talk to the hand who says he saw someone up in the hills scoping out the herd,” she said.
He nodded, but sensed there was more going on with her this morning. Unless he was mistaken, there’d been a change in Jack. Not quite a twinkle in her eye, but close. He’d bet money she was up to something.
It was one of those blue-sky days that was so bright it was blinding. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky and the weather was supposed to be good for nearly a week.
Dillon still couldn’t believe he wasn’t headed back to prison. It made him a little uneasy. “So who’s the ranch hand?”
“Pete Barclay. He’s worked for Waters ever since you went to prison,” she said, glancing over at him.
She wasn’t fooling him. All his old cowboy buddies were back in central Montana. Neither of them thought that was a coincidence.
He sighed deeply. “Pete Barclay.”
“What? I thought Pete was your friend? Or are you going to tell me that he’s now in cahoots with Waters?”
Dillon shook his head. There was no telling her anything. “Pete actually saw one of the rustlers?”
“The person was up in the hills. He saw a flash of light up in the rocks that he believes came from binocular lenses. When he went up to investigate, he found tracks. Look, I’m not sure what I believe at this point. That’s why I want to talk to Pete.”
“Right.” There was more to it, sure as hell.
“If it makes you feel any better, I don’t trust Waters,” she admitted, as if the words were hard to say.
Dillon looked at her in surprise. That was the most honest she’d been with him. Not to mention that she’d just taken him into her confidence. Maybe he was finally making inroads with her. Or maybe she was just telling him what she thought he wanted to hear.
REDA HARPER HAD NEVER been good at letting sleeping dogs lie. She hadn’t slept well last night, tossing and turning, her mind running over the meeting at the community center and, even more, what she’d seen on the W Bar.
She’d made a few calls first thing this morning to find out if the rustlers had struck again.
She’d been shocked to hear that, sure enough, they had hit another ranch. One to the east, though, not Waters’s. How was that possible, when she’d have sworn she saw them on the W Bar last night? Unless she’d seen them after they’d hit Edmonds’s ranch.
But what had she really seen?
“Isn’t any of my business,” she said to herself, even as she sat down at her desk and pulled out the pale lavender stationery. Caressingly, she ran her fingertips over the paper. Nicer than any paper she would have bought for herself. The stationery had been a gift from her lover.
“The no-good son of a bitch,” she said under her breath. Her lips puckered, the taste in her mouth more sour than lemons as she picked up her pen and, with a careful hand, began to compose one of her infamous letters.
The mistake she’d made wasn’t in mailing the letter, she realized later. It was in not leaving well enough alone and only sending the letter.
Even as she was pocketing shells and picking up her shotgun, she knew better. Not that she’d ever drawn the line at butting into other people’s business. In fact, it was the only thing that gave her any satisfaction in her old age.
No, it was not leaving well enough alone when it came to Shade Waters. Her mother, bless her soul, had always said that Reda’s anger would be the death of her.
Of course, her mother had never known about Reda’s affair with Shade, so she’d never witnessed the true extent of her daughter’s fury.
Had there been someone around to give Reda good advice, he or she would have told her not to get into her pickup armed with her shotgun. And maybe the best advice of all, not to go down that back road to where she’d seen that stock truck last night.
JACKLYN TURNED AT THE gate into the W Bar Ranch, taking a breath and letting it out slowly.
Last night she hadn’t been able to sleep—not after the ranchers’ meeting, everything she’d learned at the steak house with Dillon, and finally Stratton’s call.
At least that’s what she told herself. That it had been Dillon who gave her a sleepless night—and not just the kiss.
The night before had left her off balance. Even a little afraid. That wasn’t like her, and she knew part of it was due to Dillon Savage. She’d known he was dangerous, but she’d underestimated his personality. Even his charm, she thought with a hidden smile.
But last night, unable to sleep, she’d realized what she had to do. As she drove into the W Bar, she knew the chance she was taking. She was no fool. She’d gotten Dillon out of prison for the reason he suspected: to give him enough rope that he would hang himself. She’d been that sure he was the leader of the rustling ring.
Now she suspected that Stratton was doing the same thing with her.
This morning before they left, she’d called Shade Waters. He’d been almost apologetic. She’d questioned him why this was the first time she’d heard about one of his men seeing someone on the ranch. Why hadn’t he mentioned it yesterday at his place? Or last night at the meeting?
“I just heard about it. I guess he told Nate and—” Waters let out a low curse “—Nate had other things on his mind and forgot to mention it until late last night.”
“I want to talk to the ranch hand.”
“I’ll make sure he’s here in the morning.”
She’d wondered even then if Waters was making things too easy for her, setting her up, just as Dillon suspected. Or was she just letting Dillon sway her, the same way she’d let him kiss her last night?
As she parked in front of the ranch house, she was glad to see there wasn’t a welcoming reception on the porch this time. “I need to talk to Pete alone.”
“I’ll be right here,” Dillon said, lying back and pulling his hat down over his eyes. He gave her a lazy grin.
“Make sure you stay here,” she said.
He cut his eyes to her. They seemed bluer today than she’d ever seen them. Just a trick of the light. “At some point, you might want to give me more to do than sleep.”
Soon, she thought. Very soon.
DILLON’S INTENTION had been to stay in the pickup. The last thing he wanted to do was make Jack mad again, he thought, as he watched her walk toward the barn. She did fill out her jeans nicely, he decided. He groaned, remembering the hard time he’d had getting to sleep last night, just thinking about their kiss.
He’d figured this early release would be a cakewalk. Just hang back, let things happen, do as little as he could. Jack was good at her job. She didn’t need him.
But that had been before last night. Now he felt frustrated, on too many levels. He couldn’t sit back and let Jack make the biggest mistake of her life.
The thought made him laugh. The biggest mistake of her life would be falling for him.
Yeah, like that was ever going to happen.
No, Jack was going at this all wrong. She was never going to catch the rustlers at this rate. She needed to investigate the W Bar and Waters.
Was she dragging her feet because of Dillon’s own past with the rancher? He swore under his breath and sat up. The place was quiet. Maybe too quiet?
He told himself he had to think of what was best for him as well as Jack. She needed his help. He wondered how long it would be before he was headed back to prison, if she didn’t get a break in this case.
Something shiny caught his eye. Grillwork on an old stock truck parked in tall weeds, behind what was left of a ramshackle older barn.
He thought of Jack for a moment. She’d disappeared into the new barn, closer to the house. He knew why she had balked at investigating Waters on the q.t. behind her supervisor’s back. Because she didn’t have a criminal mind.
But he did, he admitted with a grin, as he popped open his door and slipped out of the pickup. He wouldn’t go far, but he definitely wanted to have a look at that truck. He was betting it was the same one he’d hitched a ride in just the day before.
Sneaking along the side of the building, Dillon kept an eye out for Jack. He hated to think what she would do if she caught him.
The W Bar definitely seemed too quiet as he neared the front of the truck. He hesitated at the edge of the building, flattening himself against the rough wood wall to listen. He could hear crickets chirping in the tall weeds nearby, smell dust on the breeze, mixed with the scents of hay and cattle, familiar smells that threatened to draw him back into that dark hole of his past.
After a moment, he inched around the corner of the barn and along the shady side the stock truck. It was cool here, wedged between the truck and the barn. He stayed low, just in case he wasn’t alone. Strange that no one was around, other than the hired hand Jack was meeting with in the other barn. Pete Barclay, she’d said. He and Pete had never been close. Pete was a hothead.
That fact made Dillon nervous about Jack being in the barn alone with him. He reminded himself that she was wearing a gun, this was what she did for a living, and he had to trust her judgment.
Still, he was worried as he moved past the driver’s door and along the wooden bed of the truck. He grabbed hold of one of the boards and climbed up the side, hesitating before he stuck his head over the top. He still hadn’t heard any vehicles. No tractors. No ranch equipment. Not even the sound of a voice or the thunder of horses’ hooves. Where was everyone?
As he finally peered over the top of the stock rack, Dillon wasn’t all that surprised by what he found. The back of the truck had been washed out. There was only a hint of odor from the dead calves that had been in it yesterday.
Climbing down, he noticed that the truck was older than he’d realized yesterday. Probably why it was parked back here. Because it was seldom used.
He started around the corner of the barn, sensing too late that he was no longer alone.
JACKLYN FOUND Pete Barclay where Waters had told her he would be. In the barn. On her walk there, she saw no one else. She hadn’t seen Waters’s car, nor Nate’s, for that matter, and suspected they might have gone into town to avoid her.
Which was fine with her.
Pete Barclay was a long, tall drink of water. He had a narrow face that she’d once heard called horsey, and he wore a ten-gallon Stetson that he was never going to grow into. His long legs were bowed, his clothing soiled, she noted, when she found him shoveling horse manure from the stalls.
“Mornin’,” he said when he saw her, and kept on working.
“Shade told you I was coming out?”
Pete nodded.
“I just wanted to ask you a few questions.”
“Sure.” He shoveled the manure into a wheelbarrow, not looking at her.
“Shade said you saw someone watching the ranch?”
Pete dumped another shovelful into the wheelbarrow, the odor filling the air. Had Waters purposely told him to do this job this morning, because she would be talking to him?
“Can’t say I saw anyone, just kind of a reflection. You know—like you get from binoculars.”
“So you investigated?”
He nodded as he scooped up more manure. “Just found some boot and horseshoe prints. The ground was kind of trampled. Looked like someone had been hanging around behind a rock up there.”
“And where was this, exactly?”
He told her. He still hadn’t looked at her.
“Shade said you told Nate?”
He gave another nod.
“How many cattle would you say Mr. Waters has in that area?” she asked. She couldn’t see Pete’s face, but his neck flushed bright red.
“Mr. Waters said I wasn’t to be giving out any numbers. Truth is he’s talking about moving the cattle closer to the ranch house until the rustlers are caught.”
“That’s a good idea,” she agreed, wondering if Shade had any idea what a terrible liar Pete was.
“He said to tell you to take the Old Mill Road. The country back in there is pretty rough. It’s a good day’s ride on horseback.”
“Then I’d better get started,” Jacklyn said.
SHADE WATERS STEPPED OUT in front of Dillon, blocking his way, as he came around the corner of the barn.
Dillon had often thought about what he would do if he ever caught the rancher in a dark alley, just the two of them alone, face-to-face.
“You and I need to talk,” Waters said.
Dillon cocked his head, studying the man. Did the rancher have any idea how much danger he was in right now? Up close, Waters looked much older than he remembered him. He had aged, his skin sallow and flecked with sun spots. But there was still power in his broad frame. Shade Waters was still a man to be reckoned with.
“What could you and I possibly have to talk about?”
“Your father.”
Dillon couldn’t hide his surprise. He glanced toward the pickup, but didn’t see Jack. “I don’t think you want to go down that road.”
“You’re wrong about what happened,” Waters said, sounding anxious. “I liked your father—”
“Don’t,” Dillon said, and pushed past the older man, striding toward the pickup, telling himself not to look back. His hands were shaking. It was all he could do not to turn around and go back and—
“I have a proposition for you,” Waters said from behind him.
Dillon stopped walking. He took a deep breath and slowly turned.
“You want your father’s ranch back? It’s yours.”
Dillon could only stare.
“I’ll throw in the old Hanson place, as well.”
Dillon took a step toward him, his fists clenched at his sides, anger making his head throb. “You think this will make up for the past?”
“I don’t give a rat’s behind about the past,” Waters snapped. “This isn’t a guilty gesture, for hell’s sake. This is a business deal.”
Dillon stopped a few yards from Waters. “Business?”
He couldn’t believe this old fool. Waters had no idea the chance he was taking. In just two steps Dillon could finally get vengeance, if not justice.
“I give you the ranch, you take Morgan Landers off my hands,” Waters said.
Dillon couldn’t have been more astonished. “I beg your pardon? Off your hands?”
“Don’t play dumb with me, Savage. What I always admired about you was your intelligence. You know damn well what I’m asking. I want her away from my son. Name your price.”
Dillon shook his head, disbelieving. “My price?” he asked, closing the distance between them. This was the man who had destroyed his family, stolen his ranch and now thought he could buy him as well.
Dillon reached out and grabbed the man’s throat so quickly Waters didn’t have a chance to react. He shoved the rancher against the side of the barn. “My price?”
“Dillon,” Jacklyn said calmly, from behind him.
Waters’s face had turned beet-red and he was making a choking sound.
“Dillon,” Jacklyn repeated, still sounding calm and not overly concerned.
Dillon shot a look over his shoulder at her, saw her expression and let go of the rancher’s throat.
Waters slumped against the side of the barn, gasping for air. “I’ll have you back in prison for assault,” he managed to wheeze as he clutched his throat.
“No, you won’t,” Dillon said to him quietly. “Or I’ll tell your son what you just tried to do. Better yet, I’ll tell Morgan.”
Waters glared at him. “Get him the hell off my property,” he growled to Jacklyn.
“We were just leaving,” she said.
Next to her, Dillon walked toward the pickup, neither looking back.
“What was that about?” she asked under her breath, sounding furious.
“The bastard offered to give me back my ranch.”
She shot him a look.
“And the old Hanson place thrown in.”
“He admitted he’d stolen your ranch?” she said, once they were at the pickup and out of earshot.
“Yeah, right.” Dillon glanced back. Waters was still standing beside the barn, glaring in their direction. “It was a business deal. He wanted me to take Morgan Landers off his hands.”
As Jack opened her door, she glanced toward him in surprise. “You aren’t serious.”
“Dead-on,” Dillon said as he joined her in the cab. He was still shaking, his heart pounding, at how close he’d come to going back to prison for good.
“He wants her out of his son’s life that badly?”
Dillon laughed and leaned back in his seat as she started the engine and got rolling. “Waters is one manipulative son of a bitch. But I’d say he’s met his match with Morgan Landers.”
JACKLYN WATCHED Dillon’s face as he glanced out in the direction of what had once been his family’s ranch. “Tempted?” she asked.
He smiled but didn’t look at her. “That train has already left the station.”
She thought about the lovely Morgan Landers, heard the bitterness in his voice. Jacklyn had little doubt that Dillon could get the woman back if he wanted. Nate was no match for Dillon Savage.
“The sooner we catch these guys, the sooner you can get your life back,” she said.
“What life?” He looked over at her and sighed. “I guess I do need to start thinking about the future.”
She nodded. “Have you thought about what you want to do?”
“Sure.” He looked out at the rolling grasslands they were passing. “I thought about leaving Montana, starting over.”
“Using one of your degrees?”
He nodded, his expression solemn.
“But you can’t leave here, can you?”
He turned to her again, then smiled slowly. “I don’t think so.”
But he couldn’t stay here unless he let go of the past, and they both knew it.
Ahead, Jacklyn spotted the turnoff to the Old Mill Road. She slowed the truck. “You wouldn’t have killed him.”
Dillon laughed. “Don’t bet the farm on it.”
She shook her head. “You’re not a killer, Dillon Savage.”
He looked over at her and felt a rush of warmth that surprised him. Whether true or not, he liked that she seemed to believe it. He reminded himself that while she might not consider him capable of murder, she did believe he was behind the rustling ring. Or did she really?
Jacklyn turned down the road, amazed by the lengths Shade Waters would go to get what he wanted. Was it possible Dillon had been right about him all along?
The road was rutted and rough, and obviously didn’t get much use. But clearly, a vehicle had been down here recently. There were fresh tire tread patterns visible in the dust.
As she topped a small rise, the huge old windmill, with only a few of the blades still intact, stood stark against the horizon. Near it, she spotted two vehicles parked in the shade of a grove of trees.
She swore under her breath as she recognized both of the people standing beside the vehicles, having what appeared to be an intimate conversation.
“And what do we have here?” Dillon said, as Sheriff McCray turned at the sound of the truck coming over the hill.
Jacklyn saw the sheriff’s angry expression. He left Morgan and walked over to stand in the middle of the road, blocking it.
“Tempted?” Dillon said with amusement when Jacklyn brought the pickup to a stop just inches from McCray’s chest.
With a groan, she powered down her window as the sheriff walked around to her side of the vehicle. He didn’t look happy to see her. Or was it that he wasn’t happy to be caught out here with Morgan?
“What are you doing here?” McCray demanded, glancing from her to Dillon. “You spying on me?” Clearly, he was upset at being caught. But caught doing what?
She glanced toward Morgan, who had gotten into her SUV and was now leaving. “Shade said one of his men noticed someone watching this end of the ranch. I told him I’d check it out.”
McCray frowned. “Why would he tell you that? There’s no cattle in here.” His eyes narrowed. “You’re going to have to come up with a better story than that.”
No she wasn’t. “My mistake.” She shifted the pickup into Reverse and, backing up the horse trailer into a low spot, turned around.
But McCray wasn’t done with her. He stepped up to her window. “Or maybe you had another reason for coming out here,” he said, scowling at Dillon.
“I could ask what you are doing out here,” Jacklyn snapped, before she could stop herself.
“I’m doing my job,” he retorted defensively. “Shade asked me to keep an eye on his place.”
“Really?” She glanced toward the retreating Morgan Landers. “Or did he make you an offer you couldn’t refuse?” Claude ignored that.
“I see you got yourself some new tires,” he said with snide satisfaction, no doubt to let her know he’d seen Dillon kissing her last night in the community center parking lot.
“Don’t let me keep you from your…work,” she said as she let the clutch out a little quicker than she’d planned. The pickup lurched forward, the tire almost running over the sheriff’s foot.
He jumped back with a curse. As she turned the wheel and left, she saw him in her rearview mirror, mouthing something at her. She gave the pickup more gas and heard Dillon chuckle.
“I wonder what Waters offered him?” Dillon said. “That looked like a lovers’ tryst to me. I just hope I’m around when Morgan finds out that Shade Waters is trying to sell her to anyone who’ll take her.”
As Jacklyn drove back the way they’d come, she only momentarily wondered just how far Shade would go to protect his son from Morgan Landers—and what Nate would do if he found out.
But her mind was on what McCray had said about Waters not running any cattle in that section of the ranch. She’d known Pete Barclay was lying, but now she knew that Waters was, as well.