B.J. Daniels

by Forsaken

  His left thigh ached, and when he touched it, he could feel that it was badly bruised. The memory of Pam swinging the baseball bat came back. He was amazed he didn’t have some broken bones or that she hadn’t beaten him to death once he was down.

  He guessed that she’d stopped because she’d made her point. No sense in beating a dead horse, right?

  As he dialed 9-1-1 and asked for an ambulance and the undersheriff, he recalled her last words.

  You really didn’t think I was done with you, did you?

  * * *

  RIDING BESIDE MADDIE, Jamison crossed a wide meadow between two mountain peaks before working his way along the bottom of a sheer granite cliff that shot up to dizzying heights over them.

  Sunlight traveled down through the pine boughs to bathe them in flickering golden beams. He breathed in the sweet scents of pine and new green grasses, the morning air crisp and cold. He feared the air was so clean it would intoxicate him since he had never breathed anything like it before.

  The air, the altitude or Maddie Conner would be his undoing, he thought. He didn’t doubt that if he couldn’t keep up, she would leave him behind. Didn’t they shoot animals that couldn’t keep up with the herd?

  Once they left the pines, the sky overhead seemed as endless as the wide-open mountain slopes in front of them. The huge expanse was a startling clear blue, no clouds on the horizon that he could see.

  The wind kicked back up the higher they went. Above the tree line, it swept across the grassy slope in a blistering howl of undulating tall grasses that looked like waves rushing to shore. Water gushed from a plethora of small creeks as higher snowfields melted slowly. It was still early in the year up this high. The sun had a lot of climbing to do before summer warmth ever reached these mountains.

  Still, the view was breathtaking. The land seemed alive with color from the dark silken emerald of the trees to the vibrant chartreuse of the grass. All this was in contrast to the dark rocky peaks with their cap of blinding white snow and the clear, deep blue sky overhead.

  He’d heard Montana called God’s country but until that moment he’d never understood it. The beauty made him ache. Just as the high altitude made him light-headed. Maddie was right about him. He was a fish out of water up here.

  “How high are we?” he asked as they crossed a windblown ridge, the horse hooves clattering on the rocks.

  “Close to ten thousand feet.”

  The last time he was this far above sea level, he’d been in a plane.

  He didn’t know how far they’d ridden. He hadn’t felt the hours slip past, lulled by the gentle rocking of his body in the saddle and the mesmerizing beauty juxtaposed against the remoteness and endless isolation. It gave him an odd, alien feeling and added to his apprehension about what they would find over the next mountain.

  He didn’t realize anything was wrong until Maddie suddenly pulled her horse up short. “What is it?”

  She didn’t answer, but seemed to be listening, though he couldn’t imagine what she could hear over the relentless wind.

  Reining in, it took him a moment to hear anything but the deafening gale. When he finally did hear what had caught her attention, he felt the hair on his neck shoot up as goose bumps skittered over his skin.

  An eerie keening sound rode the wind.

  Last night, he’d heard coyotes calling in the distance. But this was no coyote. If this sound was human, the person was in terrible pain.

  “Where is it coming from?” he asked as he eased his horse up next to Maddie’s.

  She shook her head, still listening as if trying to pinpoint the sound. But with the wind shifting around them, he couldn’t tell any more than apparently she could.

  Maddie cocked her head. Her expression gave little away, but he could tell that, like him, she was shaken by the spine-chilling sound. Unlike him, though, he had a feeling she knew what it was.

  “This way,” she said after a moment. He glimpsed her face just before she rode off. There was more than determination etched in her expression. There was pain and regret. She had come to a sad conclusion based on what, he didn’t know.

  He followed, riding up along the edge of the wide basin then across another high rocky ridge. The view took his breath away and gave him vertigo. He swore he could see forever and yet he still couldn’t see what was making that heart-wrenching sound.

  The keening grew louder just before he and Maddie dropped off the high ridge and over a rocky rise. He could feel the wind in his face, wearing away at his skin the way it had worn away at the land.

  They hadn’t gone far when Maddie pulled up again.

  He reined in just an instant before he saw the dog. A small Australian shepherd mix of a mutt was sitting on a rocky knob below them. Its head was thrown back, and long, mournful howls were emitting from deep within its throat.

  Something was crumpled on the ground below the dog in the rocks. He caught only a glimpse of dark red plaid fabric, and then Maddie was racing down the mountainside toward the dog.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  MADDIE’S HEART SANK at the mournful cry of the dog—let alone whatever was lying at the dog’s feet just over the rocky ledge. She braced herself for what she would find and yet she was already fighting tears before she reached the animal.

  She’d been so sure she was going to find Branch Murdock’s body just below the dog on the mountainside that she was startled when the familiar red-and-black-plaid fabric just over the edge of the ridge was only that—the red-and-black plaid of the sheepherder’s coat.

  Maddie slid off her horse, still stunned and even more confused when she saw that the coat had been spread out like a bed for the dog.

  It was what a hunter did when he lost one of his bird dogs and couldn’t find the animal before dark set in. He would leave his coat with his scent on it. The dog would hopefully find it and stay there until he returned. With luck, the hunter would find the dog lying on the coat, waiting for him, the next morning.

  How long had Lucy been waiting for Branch? And why would he leave his coat here for the dog? Branch and Lucy were inseparable.

  As Maddie approached the dog, Lucy quit howling for a moment, but started up again. It was the most heartbreaking sound Maddie had ever heard on that lonesome mountain ridge so far from everything.

  “Where’s Branch?” she whispered as she squatted down next to the dog. She remembered when Branch had adopted the puppy. Just the thought of the two of them crossing the ranch yard, Lucy still a puppy, running hard on her short legs to keep up with Branch’s long stride, broke her heart.

  As she put her arm around Lucy, she heard the deputy dismount and come toward them, his boots crunching on the rocky ground. Not his boots, she reminded herself. Her husband’s. That thought shot like an arrow through her heart.

  Her husband.

  The loss often hit her out of the blue as if until that moment, she hadn’t realized Hank was gone and never coming back.

  She blinked back tears as she knelt by the dog. “It’s all right,” she whispered to Lucy, even though she suspected it was far from it.

  Picking up Branch’s coat from the ground, she held it close. The coarse wool smelled of a strong mixture of tobacco, campfire smoke, sheep and dog. She breathed in the familiar scents that would always remind her of Branch as she looked out across the mountain—just as Lucy was doing. There was no sign of her sheepherder—or her sheep.

  “May I see that?” Jamison asked and held out his hand for the coat.

  She hesitated, feeling protective and afraid, but grudgingly she handed it over to him and watched as he went through the pockets then checked the fabric. For bloodstains? Bullet holes?

  He didn’t seem to find anything of interest, she saw with relief. She watched him sniff one of the pockets, then the other one.

  “He took his tobacco with him and whatever tool he carried in his other pocket,” the deputy said.

  “A knife. He always carried a pocketknife.” She watched
as he shook out several flakes of loose tobacco from the one pocket. The wind caught the stray tobacco leaves and sent them whirling off over the side of the mountain on a downdraft.

  Jamison turned the other pocket inside out to show her where the pocketknife had worn a hole in the fabric. “Why would your sheepherder leave his coat here and take everything else with him?” he asked as he eyed the dog.

  She hadn’t noticed until then that Lucy had a rope tied around her neck, a couple feet of it still attached. The end was frayed as if it had been chewed off. She swallowed down the lump that had risen in her throat at the sight. Branch would never tie up Lucy, would he?

  “He must have gotten separated from his dog,” she said, surprised that her voice sounded almost normal. “He knew Lucy would find his coat.” Or he’d wanted the dog to stay here for some reason and not follow him?

  “Why would the dog wait here instead of return to camp?”

  “Lucy’s probably already checked camp several times.” As she shoved to her feet she wondered if that was where they would find the other end of the rope that had been tied around the dog’s neck. “She would stay with his coat the rest of the time because Branch’s scent would be the strongest on it.”

  Reaching for her reins, she swung up into the saddle and called softly to Lucy. The dog looked reluctant to follow. But the deputy had Branch’s coat, and as the two of them started down the ridge, Lucy finally trailed after them.

  Maddie noticed the way the dog had her head down, though, looking like an animal that had been mistreated. Branch would never have laid a hand on Lucy. Nor was there any sign of abuse on the dog that she could see. What scared her was that Lucy reminded her of Dewey. He’d had that same awful look in his eyes.

  * * *

  “PAM HAS AN ALIBI.”

  Sheriff Frank Curry tried to sit up in the hospital bed. The doctor had insisted on admitting him for the concussion and contusions. He would have balked, but by the time he reached the hospital, he’d been nauseous and had a blinding headache.

  Now he stared at the undersheriff, not sure he’d heard him right. Undersheriff Dillon Lawson was a sandy-haired former rodeo cowboy with an easygoing smile and charm to match. But he was also smart and at thirty-six in line for Sweetgrass Sheriff when Frank retired.

  “What did you say?” Frank asked.

  “Pam has an alibi.”

  “Like hell.”

  “She’s been staying in a guest cabin at Judge Westfall’s. She claims she was in the cabin reading until long after you were attacked. Judge Westfall backs her up. He has sworn that he saw her sitting in a chair in the guesthouse reading until almost 2:00 a.m.”

  “He just happened to be up that entire time?”

  “Apparently he has trouble sleeping.”

  “He’s lying and so is she. And I would lay money on the judge’s grandson being the one who knocked me out.”

  Dillon shook his head and said patiently, “There is no proof that she was even in your house or that she was the one who attacked you. She says the last time she talked to you, you threatened her and that apparently when you heard she was in town, you decided to try to frame her.”

  “That’s a lie, too. Someone tore up my house. You saw it.”

  “Yep, and bashed you in the head. But not your ex-wife unless we find proof otherwise. She didn’t leave any prints behind that we could find. Without evidence...”

  Frank raked a hand through his hair in frustration. “She took my gun.”

  “We can get you another gun.”

  “You know that’s the least of it.” His head still ached and his stomach roiled at the thought of Pam getting away with this. She’d thought of everything since he didn’t believe that even Judge Westfall would give her an alibi unless he did think he saw someone reading in the guesthouse.

  “The judge has made it clear that if you go near Pam...”

  “I get it,” Frank said.

  “I know this is hard, but turn the damage over to your insurance agent and move on. You lost this one.”

  Frank let out a humorless laugh. “I’ve lost worse with Pam. She didn’t just turn our daughter against me. She programmed her to kill me.” He saw Dillon make a face. “I know, I can’t prove that either, and now Tiffany is going to be the one to pay the price. I have to stop this woman from doing any more damage.”

  The undersheriff shook his head. “I would strongly advise you against doing anything. You’d be playing right into her hands if you do.”

  Frank had always thought of himself as a reasonable man. He didn’t do things on the spur of the moment. He thought things out, used good judgment.

  “She could have killed you last night. She didn’t.”

  He scoffed at that. “She doesn’t want me dead. She wants me to suffer.”

  “Well, the doc said you should be able to go home tomorrow. If you want, I can call your insurance agent and then get the place cleaned up for you.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “I think it would be best if you didn’t see the mess out there.”

  “Afraid I’m going to go off half-cocked?” He chuckled. “Don’t worry. I know more than ever what kind of evil I’m dealing with. I plan to stay as far away from Pam as possible—for her security as well as mine.”

  Dillon didn’t look reassured. “If you see her on your property again or happen to run into her...”

  “You’ll be the first person I call.”

  “It’s a little more complicated than that.” Dillon took a breath and let it out slowly. “Pam’s asked for a restraining order against you.” He held up his hands as Frank began to swear. “She’s claiming that you’re dangerous, that she fears for her life. That you were physically abusive when the two of you were married and that’s why she left you and didn’t tell you she was pregnant.”

  Frank let out a string of obscenities and tried to get out of bed.

  “You’re not going anywhere.” Dillon put a warning hand on his arm. “The doctor isn’t releasing you, and you sure as the devil aren’t going near Judge Westfall or Pam. The restraining order includes Westfall’s ranch.”

  Of course the judge would be protecting Pam. When she’d first come to the area, she’d rented a place from the judge’s sister and had ingratiated herself into the family.

  “She’s lying about all of it.”

  “Frank, I know you. I know she’s lying. But right now, it’s her word against yours, and without any proof and the judge providing her with an alibi...”

  Frank lay back in the bed. He knew Dillon was right. But that didn’t help the situation. “Just when I thought she couldn’t hurt me worse than she already has.” He focused again on the undersheriff. “You said there were a couple of things I needed to know?”

  “Apparently Pam is planning to stay around for a while. My advice to you is to make sure the two of you don’t cross paths. You see her coming take off in the other direction.”

  “She won’t be content with that. There’s only one reason she’s back here.”

  Dillon rubbed the back of his neck for a moment, looking as if this was the part he really didn’t want to tell him. “You’re right about her hanging out with Billy Westfall. They’ve been seen together.”

  Frank groaned. “I hired Billy to find her when I first learned about Tiffany.” He saw Dillon’s worried look. “I merely called her and talked to her. The next time I tried her number, it had been disconnected. So I’m not surprised Pam would get Billy to help her. You can bet Billy was the one who hit me from behind. I know that bastard. He’s been waiting for years to do that to me.”

  Dillon opened his mouth, but Frank cut him off.

  “I know. I have no proof, so you can’t go after Pam or Billy. I’m sure Billy Westfall has an alibi, too. But at least now I know who I’m dealing with—and how far Pam will go.”

  “You’re going to have to be careful, Frank. This woman is out to get you. Don’t play into her hand. If you had just called
for backup last night...”

  “Yeah, I know. I might not be lying in this bed. The problem, Dillon, is that she knows me,” Frank said with a groan. “She knew I wouldn’t call for help.” Just as she’d known he couldn’t pull the trigger.

  * * *

  JAMISON COULDN’T WAIT to see the Diamond C ranch sheep. He scanned the open mountainside ahead, feeling the immenseness of the country around them seep into his bones. It made him feel small and insignificant and more alone than he’d felt since the day his wife walked out on him.

  The relentless wind made him irritable as it howled like the dog, an incessant gale that flattened the grasses and threatened to send his Stetson flying. The wind alone, he thought, could make a person go mad in no time up on this mountainside.

  He’d never been at the mercy of nature before, but then, he’d never been in such unforgiving country with its sharp jagged rocks and sheer cliffs, its wind and weather and wild animals. It gave him an odd feeling knowing there were large predators up here that could not only kill him, but eat him.

  And all of that might not be what they had to fear the most.

  What a hard existence for the herder spending months in this harsh, desolate environment with only a band of sheep and a dog to keep him company. The loneliest profession in the world, he mused.

  As he glanced over at Maddie, he suspected she had been living an isolated and maybe equally desolate life, as well. He knew he had since his divorce a year ago. With Maddie, though, the loss had been so much greater. To lose your son and husband... He couldn’t imagine how she had been able to keep going.

  Out of sheer determination, he decided now as they rode across another high meadow. She was strong, no doubt about it. How would she handle another blow? He had to wonder because after finding the dog, he was more afraid of what they were going to find up here.

  They were nearing the ridgeline when he heard it. The baaing of the sheep reached him on the wind before he saw them. The dog heard them, too. So did Maddie.

  She spurred her horse up the side of a steep mountain slope, reining in on the wind-scoured ridge. As he joined her, he saw white sheep scattered for what looked like miles across the mountain. Everywhere he looked he saw dots of fluffy wool. The sheep stood out in the late-afternoon light as if lit from within.