At the Crossroads
Page 27
“You gave me all of this,” she said, stopping in the doorway to take in the room again. He’d added just enough to the decorations they’d already put up to make it enchanting. The man had style, something he and his lucky hat and boots would have never let her imagine. The wedding had brought out even more Christmas spirit in both of them.
Like him, for years she’d opted to work the holidays rather than face her empty apartment. The first few years she’d gotten a small tree and decorated it with tiny lights. It had looked so forlorn that she’d ended up taking it over to an elderly neighbor’s apartment.
The man had looked at it, then at her. “What am I supposed to do with that?” he’d demanded.
“Plug it in,” she’d said and thrust it at him. A few nights later when she’d stopped by his apartment, she’d seen the tree in his window, the tiny sparkling lights glowing. She’d smiled, glad it had given someone a little cheer.
Now, Culhane pulled her close. “Pretty night.”
“Beautiful,” she said. “It’s so...peaceful here. Do you hear the creek?” She felt him nod.
“I hate to pull you away from this, but you must be freezing,” he said and stepped back to turn her to face him. “Come inside. I need your help.”
She raised an eyebrow, but he gave her no clue as they entered the house. Once in the large living room, the blaze in the fireplace a welcoming warm crackle, she saw that he had alcohol-free champagne chilling and two glasses.
“Merry Christmas, Mrs. Travis.” He poured her a glass and one for himself. “To us.”
She clinked her glass against his and took a sip of the bubbly. It tickled her tongue. She smiled at her husband. Husband. Would she ever get used to that?
He was so darned handsome. She hoped their son looked just like him.
As she felt him moving, she put her hand on her belly. Culhane came up behind her and encircled her with his arms to place his hand over hers.
“Your son is kicking up his heels,” she said as something outside caught her eye. She turned toward the large window. “Culhane, it’s snowing!” Huge lacy flakes drifted down, growing thicker as she watched them in the outside lights.
He hugged her as they watched it snow. “I promised you a white Christmas, didn’t I?”
She snuggled against him. “You’re a man of your word.”
He laughed softly. “I sure hope Santa can find us.”
“You aren’t one of those people who can’t wait to open presents, are you?”
“Today I got the best present anyone could ask for,” he said and nuzzled her neck. “But I might have shaken a couple of the ones under the tree with my name on them.”
“You’re incorrigible. What am I going to do with you?” she said, laughing.
“I’m sure you’ll think of something.” Together they stood there watching the snow fall as the fire crackled in the stone fireplace. Safe and warm, they talked about the future.
* * *
FIVE MONTHS LATER, Culhane took his infant son in his arms. He looked down into that perfect little face with awe and felt his heart fill with love for his son. His son.
He looked at Alexis and smiled through his tears. “Thank you.”
“I didn’t do it alone,” she said with a laugh.
“You are amazing,” he said to her, meaning every word. The last few months had been the best in his life. He couldn’t imagine anything topping them until now. “I never dreamed of the kind of joy that you’ve brought to my life, and now this?”
She chuckled. “So you like him?”
“Oh, Alex.” He tried to swallow the lump in his throat as he pushed aside the blanket a little to look at his son’s tiny feet with their ten perfect toes. And those hands! As he touched one, the little fingers opened only long enough to wrap around his finger. “Hey, this kid has a grip! And he just smiled at me.”
“Of course he did,” Alexis said grinning. “You’re going to be a great dad.”
“I hope so.” He looked at his wife again. His wife. “I love you,” he whispered as he handed her their son and sat down on the edge of the bed to put his arm around her.
“He’s going to need a name,” she said, smiling down at the infant. “He looks like you.”
“We could name him after your father.”
“Harry? I think not,” she said with a shake of her head. “Anyway, Dad already vetoed that idea. What about naming him after your father?” He could tell that she’d been hesitant to even suggest it.
“You would be all right with that?” he asked.
“I see your father’s love every day in our home and this ranch.” She nodded. “I would be more than all right with it.”
Culhane tightened his hold on her. “How did I get so lucky? All right, then, son. Nathaniel Culhane Travis. Boy, that’s a mouthful for such a little guy. How about we call you Nate after your grandfather for the time being? Hey, he smiled again.”
Alexis laughed. “It’s gas, Culhane. But Nate it is.”
“When can we start trying to make another one?” he asked with a grin.
“Culhane.” She shook her head, but she was smiling.
* * *
Look for the next book in the Buckhorn, Montana series coming from New York Times bestselling author B.J. Daniels. Read on for a sneak peek.
THE SATURDAY EVENING the crows came, Jasper Cole had been standing in his ranch kitchen cleaning up his dinner dishes. He heard the rustle of feathers and looked up with a start to see several dozen crows congregated on the telephone line outside.
Just the sight of them stirred another memory of a time dozens of crows had come to his grandparents’ farmhouse. The chill he felt at both the memory and the arrival of the crows had nothing to do with the cool Montana spring air coming in through the kitchen window.
He stared at the birds that now all seemed to be watching him. There were so many of them, their ebony bodies silhouetted against a cloudless sky, their shiny dark eyes glittering in the growing twilight. As this murder of crows began to caw, he listened as if this time he might decode whatever they’d come to tell him. But like last time, he couldn’t make sense of it.
Laughing to himself, he closed the window and finished his dishes. He didn’t really believe the crows had come to warn him this time – anymore than they had the last time. His grandmother had though. He remembered watching her cross herself and mumble a prayer as if the crows were an omen of something sinister to come. As it turned out, she’d been right.
At almost forty, Jasper could scoff all he wanted even as a bad feeling settled deep in his belly. That feeling only worsened as the crows suddenly all took flight as if their work here was done.
Over the next few days, he would remember the evening the crows appeared. It was the same day Leviathan Nash came to Buckhorn, Montana, to open his shop in the old carriage house and strange things had begun to happen—even before people started dying.
Keep reading for an excerpt from Pursued by the Sheriff by Delores Fossen.
Copyright © 2021 by Barbara Heinlein
Pursued by the Sheriff
by Delores Fossen
Chapter One
A jab of lightning sliced through the night sky, and Sheriff Jace Castillo caught a glimpse of the man he was chasing—just as the bullet from the guy’s semiautomatic slammed into Jace’s left shoulder.
The pain was instant and raw. A searing jolt of fire knifed through him, but Jace managed to scramble into a cluster of trees.
It was too dark for Jace to see the wound, but it was already throbbing. And bleeding. He was losing way too much blood. He could feel the warmth of it spreading across the front of his shirt and his sleeve.
Jace looked out into the curtain of rain, the fat drops dripping off the low-hanging tree branch that he was using for cover. He couldn’t see the man who’d j
ust shot him, but Jace knew he was still there. Detective Gideon Martell likely wouldn’t just walk away from this. Or turn himself in.
Because Gideon was a dirty cop.
Jace had proof of that, and that was why he’d come to Gideon’s rural house just outside of Culver Crossing—the town where Jace was the sheriff. He’d intended to arrest Gideon and take him to San Antonio, where Gideon was a decorated officer.
And where they’d been friends, once.
“You still alive, Sheriff?” Gideon called out. He said Jace’s title as if he didn’t have much respect for it. Of course, as Jace had recently learned, Gideon didn’t have any respect for his own badge. “It was real stupid of you to come to my place without backup.”
Yeah, it had been, but Jace had thought he could talk Gideon into surrendering. So much for that plan. Gideon had run. Jace had gone in pursuit. Now, he’d been shot, and they were deep in the woods, a little more than half mile from the road. Despite the darkness and the storm, Gideon had managed a good run so he could escape.
“You don’t want to add murder to your sheet,” Jace threw out there, and he moved as fast as he could, darting to the side.
Good thing, too, because Gideon sent a bullet toward the exact spot where Jace had just been. The storm obviously hadn’t affected Gideon’s hearing or vision, because he had managed to pinpoint Jace’s location.
Wincing at the movement and listening for any sound that Gideon was coming closer, Jace took out his phone to call for backup. And he cursed. No signal. There were plenty of dead spots like that in rural Texas, but this was one dead spot that could be fatal for him. He wasn’t sure he could make it all the way back to his truck. Especially since he was already starting to get dizzy from the pain and the blood loss.
“My guess is you’re hurting pretty bad right now, huh?” Gideon called out.
Again, Jace heard the taunt in his tone and figured the detective was hoping he’d answer. Then Gideon could try to shoot him again, this time with a kill shot.
Too bad about that, on several levels.
It was bad enough that his former best friend wanted him dead, but it also meant he wouldn’t be able to talk to Gideon, to try to get answers that he desperately needed.
Answers as to why Gideon had sullied his badge by stealing and then selling confiscated weapons and drugs.
Heaven knew how long Gideon had gotten away with his crimes, but he’d sold the illegal goods to the wrong man. One who’d not only reported it to Jace but had also given him the proof to back it up.
Dragging in a hard breath, Jace put away his phone and focused. He needed to turn this situation around. Needed to figure out Gideon’s location so he could end this before he passed out and died here.
“What about Linnea?” Jace asked a split second before he moved again. As expected, Gideon fired a shot and, thankfully, missed this time. “Have you thought about what this will do to her?”
Silence. And Jace hoped it was a good strategy, to use Gideon’s sister to make him rethink this. Gideon and Linnea were close, and it would tear out Linnea’s heart to know what her brother had done.
“To hell with Linnea,” Gideon snarled. “She’s the one who ratted me out.”
Everything inside Jace went still. He hadn’t known that. And he wasn’t even sure it was true. Jace certainly hadn’t gotten any proof of his wrongdoing from Gideon’s sister.
“As far as I’m concerned, Linnea can die right along with you,” Gideon added in a snap.
Jace pushed aside those hard words, and he knew it was now or never. He darted out from cover, took aim at the sound of Gideon’s voice and fired. Not once but three times. Jace heard the sound of a bullet ripping through flesh. Heard Gideon’s sharp groan of pain.
Then he caught a glimpse of his former friend collapsing onto the ground.
Jace’s stomach clenched over the thought that he’d likely just killed a man. But he worried even more over another possibility. That he hadn’t killed Gideon. That Gideon could get up and finish him off.
Because he had no choice, Jace caught onto the tree, using it to anchor himself. The rough bark dug into his hands, but his grip stopped him from falling. For now anyway. Jace could feel himself losing it, though. Losing the battle to stay on his feet, or even to remain just conscious.
The dizziness came with a vengeance. So did the pain. Like hot pokers jabbing at him. Mercy, there was no way he could walk out of this.
He gulped in his breath, and even though he tried to keep holding on, he found himself unable to. He fell, his head smacking against a sharp rock. More pain, but he didn’t have enough breath to do anything other than groan.
Jace saw another jab of lightning. Right before everything turned dark.
Copyright © 2021 by Delores Fossen
From New York Times bestselling author
B.J. DANIELS
Small towns can hide big secrets…
“Daniels is a perennial favorite... I might go as far as to label her the cowboy whisperer.”
—BookPage on Luck of the Draw
Order your copy today!
www.HQNBooks.com
Also by New York Times bestselling author
B.J. Daniels
A Buckhorn, Montana Novel
Out of the Storm
From the Shadows
At the Crossroads
Montana Justice
Restless Hearts
Heartbreaker
Heart of Gold
Sterling’s Montana
Stroke of Luck
Luck of the Draw
Just His Luck
The Montana Cahills
Renegade’s Pride
Outlaw’s Honor
Cowboy’s Legacy
Cowboy’s Reckoning
Hero’s Return
Rancher’s Dream
Wrangler’s Rescue
The Montana Hamiltons
Wild Horses
Lone Rider
Lucky Shot
Hard Rain
Into Dust
Honor Bound
Look for B.J. Daniels’s next novel available soon from HQN.
For additional books by B.J. Daniels, visit her website, www.bjdaniels.com.
ISBN-13: 9781488078026
At the Crossroads
Copyright © 2021 by Barbara Heinlein
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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