B.J. Daniels

by Forsaken

  Nettie’s first thought was to call Sheriff Frank Curry and find out what was going on. But then she heard Fuzz say that he’d talked to some new deputy because the sheriff was out of town.

  “Bentley Jamison,” Fuzz mocked with the worst impression of a New York accent Nettie had ever heard. “What the hell kind of name is that?” The ranchers all laughed. “Wait until he meets Maddie Conner.” That brought on more laughter. “I wouldn’t even want to take her on.”

  Nettie was thinking about the sheriff being out of town. No doubt Frank was visiting his daughter, she thought with a chill.

  * * *

  SHERIFF FRANK CURRY nervously turned the brim of his Stetson in his fingers as he waited. He was a big man, a throwback from another era with his thick handlebar mustache and longish hair. He could have been a sheriff from a hundred years ago.

  The nurse had told him to sit down in one of the chairs in the glassed-in solarium, but he could no more sit than he could fly. He stood at the window, looking out at the rolling land and counting his regrets. They’d been few—before a seventeen-year-old young woman named Tiffany Chandler had shown up at his door. Actually the first time they’d met, he’d caught her in his house going through his bureau drawers as brazen as any thief he’d run across.

  Now, at the sound of footfalls behind him, he braced himself and turned to see his daughter and a nurse come into the room.

  “Hi, sweetheart,” he said.

  Tiffany looked paler than he remembered, thinner, too. She’d cut her long blond hair, hacking it short and choppy with a pair of scissors she’d somehow gotten her hands on.

  “How the hell does a mental patient get hold of scissors?” he’d demanded when he’d received the call from the hospital.

  “Your daughter is a very...determined young woman,” the nurse had told him. The woman meant sneaky, cunning, shrewd, manipulative—deadly. Determined was a kindness to him that sounded more like pity.

  Frank knew what extremes Tiffany would go to once she set her mind to something. She’d almost killed him, after killing something he’d loved.

  Looking at her now, he could see there was still a lot of hate and anger in her. He knew that defiant, hurt look too well and liked to believe it masked fear rather than soulless hatred.

  Tiffany glared at him with huge blue eyes that dominated her waiflike features. She had refused to let anyone repair the damage she’d done to her hairdo. He’d always noticed a fragility about her, but now it was heightened.

  He felt desperate to take her in his arms and protect her—just as he had last February when he’d learned who she was. Until then, he hadn’t known he had a daughter. Still didn’t, actually.

  After she’d tried to kill him, the county attorney had sent her for a mental evaluation to see if she could stand trial. The state had also insisted on running a paternity test to see if the teenager actually was Frank’s birth daughter.

  The report had come in a large brown envelope, but Frank had never opened it. He felt Tiffany was his responsibility no matter what blood ran through her veins because she was the creation of his vindictive ex-wife.

  When he thought of his ex-wife, Pam, he often thought of killing her. That thought only lasted an instant because he wasn’t a killer—and because he had created Pam, just as she had created Tiffany. Pam had kept the pregnancy from him, raising the girl alone and programming her to ultimately take revenge against the man they both now hated.

  “How are you doing?” he asked Tiffany, gripping the brim of his hat when he wanted more than anything to hold this poor child. But the nurse had warned him not to try.

  “How do you think I’m doing in this crazy bin?” Tiffany spat.

  Better than prison, he wanted to tell her. But he couldn’t be sure that prison wasn’t still in her future. It would be up to the state eventually. Right now, he was fighting to keep her from going before a judge on attempted-murder charges against an officer of the law. He feared she would be tried as an adult, and he couldn’t bear the thought of her in prison.

  “Is there anything you need, anything I can get for you?” he asked.

  “You’ve done quite enough. If that’s all...” She started to turn away.

  “Tiffany, the doctor said you haven’t been cooperating.”

  She raised one very pale blond brow at him as she let her blue eyes return to him.

  “If you get well—”

  “Is that what you’re telling them?” She crossed her skinny arms over her skinny chest. “That I’m unwell? Crazy? A lunatic just like my mother?” The nurse put a hand on her shoulder, but Tiffany shook it off. “I’m just fine. And so was my mother before she met you.”

  He hated that she wouldn’t take responsibility for what she’d done any more than her mother had the one time he’d talked to her after he’d found out about Tiffany.

  “You tried to kill me,” he said to the girl now.

  Her eyes glittered an instant before she gave him a slow smile. “I’m just sorry I failed.”

  “It’s talk like that that will end you up in prison. Don’t you understand I’m trying to help you?”

  “By pressing charges against me?”

  “That was the state because I am a county sheriff.” And Tiffany was dangerous, no matter how much he might want to argue otherwise. He sighed, his heart breaking with frustration. He wanted to help her. Why couldn’t she see that?

  “Tiffany, I love you. You’re my daughter. I want time to make up for the past since I didn’t even know you existed. Give us that time by working with the doctor so you can get out of here.”

  Tears suddenly filled her eyes. “You turned my mother against me.”

  His fury at his ex-wife boiled to the surface. She’d sent her only child to seek revenge in the most deadly, destructive way for both him and Tiffany. And now she’d washed her hands of the girl. What mother could do such a thing?

  Pam was the one who needed to be in a mental institution, he thought, tamping down his murderous rage. “You know I have no control over your mother. She wants to hurt us both. By making you think I’m responsible, it’s just another way for her to drive us apart.”

  Tiffany shook her head, tears now streaming down her face. “She said you would blame her.”

  Frank balled his fists at his sides. He didn’t know where Pam was, afraid sometimes of what he would do if he found her. He unclenched his fists, not wanting to give his daughter any more ammunition against him.

  “This is your fault,” Tiffany cried. “If you had loved my mother and not that horrible Nettie Benton...”

  Frank felt his heart clinch at his former lover’s name on his daughter’s lips. There was only one other person Tiffany and her mother hated more than him.

  “None of this has anything to do with Lynette,” he said, using the name he’d always called Nettie. “She was married to Bob when your mother and I were together, and there was nothing going on between us.”

  “Mother said you never got over the bitch.”

  He would have loved arguing that, but he couldn’t. His daughter would have seen the truth. “I married your mother because I loved her.” That much at least was true. Pam’s jealousy had destroyed the marriage, but Tiffany wouldn’t believe that. He hated even thinking about those dark days, never knowing what mood Pam would be in when he returned home.

  “Mother said you never tried to get her back.”

  They’d had this discussion too many times, and nothing he could say weakened the venom Pam had injected into their daughter’s veins.

  “I can’t change the past. Had I known about you, I would have gone after your mother and brought you both back. She never gave me that chance.”

  The girl shook her head, her big blue eyes filling with tears. “If I had known that Nettie Benton was the woman you were in love with...” She didn’t have to continue. He knew. Tiffany had come to Beartooth with a gun and a heart full of hate.

  She knew where to find him, but s
he’d been looking for Lynette Johnson. That had been Lynette’s name when the two of them were in their early twenties and lovers. Tiffany hadn’t known that Lynette went by the name Nettie Benton.

  Frank wished more than anything that he and Lynette had married and had children of their own. Instead Lynette had married Bob Benton. And years later, he’d foolishly married Pam Chandler. Their marriage had been short and far from sweet.

  It wasn’t enough that Pam and Tiffany had brought him to his knees. But he lived in fear that Tiffany, if released, would go after Lynette, the woman he’d loved and lost years ago and still loved now.

  Or that Pam, realizing her daughter might never be free again, might decide to take matters into her own hands.

  * * *

  JAMISON CALLED HIS office in Big Timber and discussed the situation with the undersheriff in charge. They both agreed he should go up into the mountains with Mrs. Conner.

  “At this point, it doesn’t warrant sending search and rescue up there,” Undersheriff Dillon Lawson said. “We don’t know that a crime has been committed or even if the sheepherder is actually missing.”

  They wouldn’t know about the blood on the boy’s coat until the forensics came back from the state lab, and who knew how long that would take?

  “The boy’s been in a fight,” Jamison said. “Something happened up there. Something bad enough that the boy is terrified. But you’re right—there’s no smoking gun.” Not yet anyway.

  “Okay. This could take you a few days, though. You’re scheduled off this weekend. If this case runs over...”

  “I doubt it will. If it does, it isn’t a problem.”

  “Let me know what you find—if you can get cell-phone coverage from one of the higher peaks up there, call me. Coverage up there is sketchy at best. If it becomes a rescue operation or worse, we can send in a helicopter once we have the location. So it is just going to be you and Maddie Conner going up there?”

  “She’s not keen on my going along.”

  Dillon chuckled. “I’ll just bet. Good luck.”

  Jamison hung up and went to check on Dewey Putman. He got the feeling that the undersheriff thought his going up into the mountains would be good for him. Knock some of the back-East off of him. Apparently Maddie’s reputation had also preceded her since the undersheriff found some humor in his going with her.

  In the kitchen, he saw that Dewey had finished his cake and coffee, shoved his dirty dishes away and, with his head cradled on his arms, had fallen into an exhausted sleep on the table.

  He knew Maddie Conner was holding out hope that Dewey hadn’t done anything wrong and that they would find nothing out of the ordinary back in her summer sheep camp. He wished he could share her optimism.

  “For all you know that is lamb blood on that boy’s jacket, just like he said,” she’d argued before he’d gone out to make the call to the office.

  “Maybe. I think you should call the boy’s father. Meanwhile, I’m afraid he’ll have to be held in custody at the jail since his guardian will be in the mountains with me.”

  “I already called the oil company and left a message for his father. Since there is no one else, I guess that’s the best we can do for now.”

  “We shouldn’t be gone that long,” Jamison had said.

  She’d given him a disbelieving smile. “There is only one way to get back where we need to go, Deputy, and that’s by horseback, so it’s going to take a while. You ever ridden a horse? Never mind. I’ll saddle you a gentle one. But you’re going to need some boots and some practical clothes. I think some of my husband’s will fit you.”

  Before he’d been able to ask about her husband, she’d disappeared down the hall. He remembered the way Maddie had been looking at the kid earlier, so much heartbreak in her eyes. It had made him wonder where she’d gotten the clothing she’d given Dewey. Did she have a son of her own?

  Leaving the sleeping boy, he stepped back in the living room and looked for family photographs. While he waited for Maddie, he couldn’t help being curious. To his surprise, he found no family photographs. That seemed strange. She’d mentioned a husband and she’d produced boys’ clothing, but there was no sign anyone lived here but her.

  “I put some clothes out for you,” she said from behind, startling him. As he turned, she gave him an irritated look as if she knew he’d been snooping. “I put them in a room down the hall. I’ll get what we’ll need together and go load the horses.” Without another word, she disappeared out the front door.

  Jamison found a flannel shirt, canvas jacket, a yellow slicker, jeans and several pairs of heavy socks along with a pair of cowboy boots waiting for him in what appeared to be a spare bedroom. He was surprised when everything fit fairly well.

  Having changed quickly, he came out of the bedroom and listened for a moment to make sure Maddie had left the house before sticking his head in the other rooms. He found Maddie’s bedroom and the family photos he’d been looking for. In a wedding-day photograph, he studied an innocent-looking young Maddie standing next to a handsome young man.

  She’d been beautiful. So fresh and sweet looking. She’d had that “I’m ready to conquer the world” look in those blue eyes of hers. She’d looked...happy.

  There were later photos of the husband and Maddie and finally some of a son. So where were this son and husband now?

  Stepping back out of the room, Jamison went into the kitchen to check on Dewey again. The boy still slept as if he hadn’t so much as dozed in days. In the living room, Jamison put in a call to the sheriff’s office again.

  Lucille Brown, a good-natured older woman, was working dispatch today. She’d put through the earlier call from Fuzz Carpenter and had given him directions to the Diamond C.

  “Can you provide me with some background information on Madison Conner?” he asked. Through the window, he could see Maddie talking to a man he suspected was the veterinarian she’d called earlier about Dewey’s horse.

  “Maddie? What do you want to know? She raises sheep. She still sends her flock up into the high country every summer. Last of the ranches to do that. Gotta hand it to her. She’s tough as any woman I’ve ever met.”

  Jamison could sure as hell attest to that. He’d probably met a more stubborn, headstrong woman in his life, but he couldn’t recall one.

  “Does she have a son?” he asked just as Maddie turned and started back toward the house.

  “Matthew. Lost him and her husband in a tragic accident four summers ago. Everyone thought she’d sell out and leave after that. But not Maddie. It’s her family’s place, but word around town is that it might not be for long. She’s had some tough breaks. If Fuzz is right and something has happened to Branch...”

  “We don’t know that,” he said.

  Just as Maddie reached the porch steps, a Sweetgrass County patrol car pulled in. “I’ve got to go,” Jamison told Lucille, and disconnected as Maddie came through the door.

  “Ready?” She had a resigned look on her face as if braced for not only being forced to allow him to go along, but also for whatever she had to face up in those mountains.

  Jamison had noticed the tall antenna on the roof when he was walking Dewey back to the house from the barn. He assumed it was for a radio and now saw the base unit on a table in the corner of the living room.

  “Have you heard anything from Branch?” he asked, motioning to the two-way radio receiver.

  “I haven’t talked to either of them since I left them four days ago. I already told you that.”

  “But you tried to reach them.” She’d left an earlier coffee mug by the base unit. He was betting that the coffee was cold from this morning. So she had been worried, just as he suspected.

  She swallowed and let out a sigh before she answered. “I tried to raise Branch this morning.”

  “You couldn’t?”

  “It doesn’t mean anything. He doesn’t like carrying the radio, so he often leaves it in camp.” She sounded defensive and not for the
first time today.

  “Why did you try to reach him this morning?”

  “I was just checking—”

  “You were worried because of Dewey.”

  Her gaze came back to his, as determined as the set of her shoulders. “Are you trying to put words into my mouth, Deputy?”

  “Sorry. What were you checking on?”

  “Just to make sure they were doing all right.”

  “You do that often?” He wondered if she’d lie and was glad when she didn’t.

  “No. I was concerned that Dewey might be...homesick. His father was determined that sheep camp was just what his son needed. He wanted Dewey away from his friends, and with his father gone so much of the time...”

  “But you had your doubts.”

  She gave him an impatient look. “Not everyone can spend that much time alone.”

  “But Branch was with him.”

  She let out an amused snort. “Branch isn’t much of a talker. He could go for days without a single word, so yes, Dewey would have had a lot of time to himself. Just because he got scared and came out of the mountains, doesn’t mean—”

  “Please try to reach Branch,” he said, motioning to the radio.

  She did as he asked, though with apparently the same result as she’d had earlier. “Like I said, he probably doesn’t have the radio with him.”

  “Or he’s unable to answer. Does he have a cell phone with him?”

  “No, but they aren’t worth a hill of beans back where we’re going. Not really anywhere to plug it in, either, when it runs out of juice.” She turned and started out the door, clearly over his interrogation.

  “So where exactly are we going?” he asked as he went after her. Even with his longer legs, he had to walk fast to keep up with her.

  “Up there,” she said without slowing down as she descended the porch steps and strode across the yard toward the barn. She waved a hand past the low sheep barns to the snowcapped mountains rising to dizzying heights in the distance. “It’s a good day’s ride.” She shot him a look, assessing him, as he caught up to her. He could see that he came up lacking in her estimation.