by B. J Daniels
As she glanced into the kitchen, she saw that there was a coffee cup sitting by the sink. Other than that, it appeared to be another room seldom used. She continued down the hallway, slowing to a stop at her father’s den. There were several dirty coffee cups by his computer on the large old oak desk that had been his grandfather’s. The chairs in front of the rock fireplace were worn smooth, the Navajo rug faded and threadbare, the room well used.
This was where her father lived. Alone except for Cal, she thought until she noticed the smear of pink lipstick on one coffee cup. Maybe not alone. That was the same color lipstick Allie Anson had been wearing earlier today at the hospital.
For a moment she stood there, surprised, and yet she knew she shouldn’t have been. Allie and her father. Apparently the rumors were true.
At the sound of the front door opening and closing, she turned to head back down the hallway, expecting Jake. The man was incorrigible. But it wasn’t Jake. A Hutterite woman wearing a long skirt, a black jacket and a polka-dot head scarf came in carrying a bucketful of rags and cleaning supplies. When she saw Blaze, she let out a cry of surprise and placed her hand over her heart.
“Hello,” Blaze said, stepping into the living room. “Are you looking for my father?”
The woman shook her head. “I’m here to clean.” She spoke with a German accent. “I come every few weeks. Cal said I could come for the time being with Mr. McClintock...”
“Yes, tied up, so to speak.” Seeing this woman, Blaze now knew why the house had looked so clean and unused except for her father’s den. “I’m Blaze. Monte is my father.”
The woman nodded. “I know who you are. I’ve seen your photograph. You just surprised me. I didn’t think you would be here.”
Apparently a lot of people had thought that she wouldn’t come back—even if her father was arrested for murder. “And you are?”
“Susie. So should I clean?”
Why not? Blaze thought. “Do whatever it is you normally do.” She looked past the woman to see a young Hutterite man talking to Jake out in the yard.
“That’s my son. He drives me.”
She nodded, having forgotten that most Hutterite women didn’t drive. She started to say something more but the woman had already headed for the kitchen, where she immediately went to work scrubbing every surface down.
Blaze turned back to her suitcase and continued on down the hall. She hadn’t planned to stop in the doorway of her father’s room but something caught her eye. She saw the photograph beside his unmade bed. It had been taken at one of her barrel races when she was sixteen—right after her mother had left. She’d never seen the photo before and realized her father must have taken it. She hadn’t even known he’d been there.
Blaze stared at the photo so prominently displayed as she tried to swallow the lump in her throat.
At the sound of the woman cleaning in the kitchen, she moved on down the hallway to the far end of the house. Her room was past the laundry room. This door was closed. She stopped in front of it for a moment, afraid of what she would find once she opened this door. The room would be used for storage now. Taking a deep breath, she let it out, turned the knob and pushed. The door swung in. Her breath caught as she stared in surprise.
Her room appeared to be exactly as she’d left it. Her father hadn’t turned it into a gun room or a junk storage area. He’d even had Susie clean it, from what she could tell. Her barrel racing awards were still on the shelves along with her collection of ceramic horses.
She pulled her suitcase in and moved to the closet, surprised that her throat had closed up on her again. Opening the closet door, she saw the clothes she’d left behind and shook her head. Her father had probably just shut the door and left it. Because he’d known that one day she would come back? Or had he thought she’d be like her mother and never return?
* * *
ALLISON “ALLIE” ANSON stood in the middle of her kitchen, trying to remember why she’d come into this room. The house seemed strangely quiet without Frank. Not that she saw that much of him when he was home. He spent his days outside tinkering with the tractor, hauling hay, feeding cattle, hanging out in the barn.
She looked around the kitchen, feeling lost. She wasn’t hungry, hadn’t been all day, even though she knew she needed to eat. She walked to the refrigerator, opened the door and looked inside.
Foil-covered casserole dishes were stacked like bricks on the shelves. She caught the scent of a Tater Tot casserole and quickly closed the door. On the counter there were plastic-wrapped trays of homemade dinner rolls, cinnamon rolls, pies and cookies. Her neighbors had begun showing up not long after Frank had been taken away in the coroner’s van.
The memory of the black body bag sent a chill up her backbone. She could still see Monte being led away in handcuffs, his gaze holding hers right until he was forced into the back of a patrol SUV.
Shaking off the memory, she moved to the stove to put the kettle on. Normally she would have had a cup of coffee, but she was trying to limit her caffeine, so she’d been drinking some kind of tea her doctor had suggested that wouldn’t hurt the baby. It was tasteless.
She placed a hand over her stomach. Forty-two was old for her to be having her first child. She wondered what people would say. No one knew yet. But it wouldn’t be long. She was starting to show. She wouldn’t be able to keep it a secret much longer.
The kettle began to whistle. She turned off the flame and took the pot over to where she had her cup from this morning, the tea bag still in it. Her hand trembled as she poured hot water into her cup. Seeing Blaze McClintock this morning at the hospital had come as such a shock. She was surprised how much the young woman looked like her mother, Bethany. It reminded her of those first lonely, isolated months after arriving on the ranch as a newlywed.
Bethany McClintock had been her first friend, her only friend. Allie didn’t think she would have survived that year if it hadn’t been for her. Living this far from everything had come as such a shock. Frank had played down the distance from town, the distance from other ranch houses, the vastness with so little on the horizon.
They’d met in Bozeman at Montana State University. She’d just come out of a bad relationship with a young man who’d broken her heart. Frank had been much older, more mature. He’d been in town as part of a cattle study through the university. His eyes had lit up when he talked about the family ranch. He’d made it sound so enchanting.
She’d been a junior with a plan to become an elementary teacher. She loved children. Frank had promised her a half dozen of her own if she would marry him, quit school and come to live with him on the family ranch. He’d said she could go back to school if she wanted to, but to give it a year before she made up her mind.
He’d professed his undying love for her, and at that moment in her life, being loved was something she’d desperately needed. She’d lost her mother her freshman year in college. Her father had remarried and moved away. She’d felt abandoned, and then her boyfriend had broken up with her and she’d been devastated.
She remembered the first time she’d seen Frank. He’d looked so uncomfortable in the new jeans and shirt, his hair slicked down with water, his calloused hands, big and awkward. She’d found it endearing. He’d been nothing like the man who’d broken her heart. Frank had been shy when he’d kissed her. After a few dates, she’d let him get to first base.
Even now she had to smile at the memory of him trying to unhook her bra, his clumsy attempt to caress her breasts with his overlarge fingers, his embarrassment when he’d come in his pants the first time she’d let him get to second base.
When he’d gotten down on one knee to ask her to marry him, she’d said yes. The diamond had been small, the ring too large, but it had been in a velvet box and Frank had had tears in his eyes. She couldn’t have said no even if she’d wanted to.
But nothing had bee
n like Frank said it would be once they’d reached the ranch. He hadn’t wanted her to go back to school when she’d realized that they weren’t going to have even one child of their own. She’d hated living so far out of town, in country that was so alien to her. She’d grown up in the mountains with pine trees. The wind blowing across the prairie at night was like a haunting moan. She’d thought she would lose her mind from the sound of it.
Worse, Frank was much coarser with her than he’d been at college. She’d hated the way he smelled when he came in from the pasture. She’d hated the way he grabbed her, rubbed her nipples raw before he climbed onto her and off just as quickly.
She’d always loved to read, but found herself hiding her books when Frank came into the house. He ridiculed her for reading so much, saying she could help more around the ranch, telling her that she wasn’t pulling her weight.
But the biggest surprise was to find out that Frank’s mother, Hilda, would be living with them. The woman had died of heart failure fourteen months after Allie and Frank married and moved in. But they were torturous months. From the moment Allie walked in the door, the woman told her just how worthless she was.
When Allie had complained to Frank, he’d informed her that his mother would teach her what she didn’t know. Which appeared to be a whole lot. It became clear that his mother had done everything for him and now he wanted her to do it exactly as his mother had. Unfortunately, she’d never been able to meet his mother’s standards while she was alive and even less so after she was dead.
Now she picked up her cup of tea and looked out the window at the prairie she’d come to hate and finally to love. She’d been miserable until she met her neighbor Bethany McClintock. Living with Frank had become more bearable after that. Bethany was also a reader, so they often talked about books they were reading while Allie darned Frank’s socks. Frank never threw anything away. His mother had taught him not to be wasteful, he’d often said. In truth, Frank was cheap.
Those years had flown by. Then her only real friend, Bethany, had disappeared without a word. Winter had come early that year. The cold, the snow building up against the side of the house, the dark days making her feel trapped. She hadn’t been able to stand being closed in to a life that she hated. The only thing that kept her sane was plotting to leave Frank and their marriage in the coming spring.
But then one day she looked up and there was Montgomery McClintock.
CHAPTER FIVE
“SHE’S GOT THAT bounty hunter staying out there at Monte’s place,” Shane Garrison said to the ranchers and deputy who’d gathered outside the hospital by his pickup. “The sheriff just called me. Told me that they showed up down at his office. The daughter’s a private investigator. Bud’s worried that they’re going to stir things up by putting their noses into his investigation.”
“What can she do?” One of the older ranchers pulled off his hat and raked a hand through his thinning brown hair. “Everyone knows that Monte killed Frank. He hasn’t even denied it. I think we should let the sheriff handle this. Monte’s in jail, probably going to prison for the rest of his life. Why not just let nature take its course?”
“I agree with Floyd,” another rancher said. “I know you’re upset over your son’s accident—”
“Ty could have been killed,” Shane snapped. The other ranchers all nodded and looked down at their boots. “Something has to be done. Cal Sperry out at the ranch won’t be a problem. He’ll make himself scarce, but I can’t say the same for this Jake Horn. Bud told me that he has a reputation for butting into other people’s business.”
“What are you thinking of doing?” one of the younger ranchers asked, excitement in his voice. “If the sheriff is worried, then these two are going to be trouble.”
Garrison nodded. “McClintock’s been buying up land and talking to East Coast developers about some fool plan he has to let the buffalo roam free. I’d like to wipe that ranch off the map before it’s too late.”
“I’m with you,” the young rancher said. “We should have stopped him the minute we heard about him bringing in buffalo. Now with his daughter back, who knows what she might do. Maybe bring in more buffalo.”
“I really doubt that’s going to happen,” Floyd said. “She hasn’t been back here in years. Once her father is convicted—”
“How long will that take?” Garrison demanded. “I can’t wait that long. What if she sells the place to one of those East Coast developers? We’ll never be able to get rid of the buffalo if that happens. No, we have to make sure there isn’t much left to sell.”
“What are you talking about?” a rancher asked. “Shane—”
“It would be a damned tragedy if something happened out there to make them leave,” the younger rancher interjected.
“It certainly would,” Garrison said with a grin.
Another rancher held up his hands and took a step back. “I want nothing to do with this.”
“We won’t get caught,” the cocky young rancher said. “Anyway,” he joked, “I’m good friends with the sheriff’s son. Hell, if I talk to LJ, he’ll probably want in on helping us.”
“Count me out, too,” Floyd said and turned to walk away. The other rancher followed after him along with several others who’d been standing around listening.
Garrison swore but then looked at the young rancher. “We don’t need them but when it happens, they’ll keep their mouths shut. They don’t want buffalo in this county any more than we do. They just don’t have the balls to do anything about it. You really think the sheriff’s son will join us?”
* * *
JAKE HAD THROWN his duffel along with his saddle and gear into the tack room when he heard a vehicle pull up, and he looked out to see the Hutterites. The young man who’d arrived with the woman headed out to the barn when he saw him. Jake introduced himself. Thomas explained that he’d brought his mother to the house to clean.
Then the young man sat down on a log by the sunny side of the barn, pulled out his pocketknife and a piece of wood he’d been working on. Jake saw that he was carving a bird. He looked toward the house, thinking of Blaze. He knew better than anyone what a toll all of this must be taking on her and wished there was some way to make it easier for her.
The thought made him laugh. Blaze wouldn’t accept comfort, especially from him, even after everything they’d been through. Or maybe because of it. He’d seen her vulnerable and that was all it had taken for her to push him away. She’d blamed it on something else, but he’d known. She must get tired of always being so damned independent, he thought. Or maybe not. Maybe that was what kept her together.
“I’d ask what you’re doing here,” said a deep male voice behind him. He’d heard enough about Cal Sperry to know at once what kind of reception he was going to get from the man. Turning, he gave the ranch manager a smile.
Cal shook his head. “First her, now you? Are you two trying to get us all killed?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“The county’s in an uproar over Frank’s killing. I’m surprised the ranchers haven’t stormed the jail and dragged Monte out to string him up—just like they used to do back in the Old West.”
“Strange attitude, given that the man has paid your wages for years,” Jake commented.
“Just tellin’ it like it is. That woman showing up here thinking she’s somethin’ she’s not, and you...” Cal shook his head. “You’re just askin’ for more trouble.”
“That woman is his daughter.”
“You think I don’t know that?” The ranch manager spit on the ground at his feet. “What’s she think she’s going to do anyway?”
“I believe she wants to make sure her father gets a fair trial.”
Cal chuckled at that. “Given how Monte felt about Frank Anson—and Frank’s wife?”
“I get the feeling you’re enjoying this.”
“Well, you’d be wrong. Monte goes to prison, I’m out of a job because I sure as hell ain’t workin’ for her.” He jabbed a finger toward the house.
“Her name is Blaze. Blaze McClintock. And unless you want to be unemployed even sooner, I suggest you treat her with respect.”
The ranch manager chuckled. “I already seen the writing on the wall. You and Blaze just brought it home for me. I’ll be packing up my stuff and moving off the ranch this afternoon. The ranch hands are going with me.” He smiled, his teeth dark with tobacco. “You know anything about running a buffalo ranch, son?”
Jake considered telling him that it couldn’t be that hard if Cal could do it, but he decided to keep that to himself.
“Well, you best learn, and fast.” With that, the man turned and walked back toward the small cabin he’d called home for years. Past him, Jake saw the ranch hands packing up their gear and spilling out of the bunkhouse, as well. He suspected that Cal was behind them all leaving. It unnerved him a little. Rats jumping ship? Or was there more to this?
Either way, it meant he and Blaze would be alone on the ranch tonight. Just the two of them. Almost like old times.
* * *
BLAZE HAD JUST returned to the living room when she saw Jake and Cal talking outside by the barn. The conversation seemed agreeable enough, but she could tell by Jake’s handsome face that whatever the ranch manager was saying, Jake didn’t like it. Normally, he was good at keeping his feelings hidden—unlike her.
As Cal walked away, Jake headed for the house. She braced herself, expecting bad news, because that was all she’d gotten since the judge’s call about her father. Down the hall, she could hear Susie running the vacuum. The woman’s son appeared to be whittling a piece of wood over by the barn.
It surprised her that her father would hire Hutterites. They lived communally, all working for the good of the colony. Socialists, some said. They didn’t vote, they didn’t join the military and, while the men drove new vehicles and the best farm machinery that money could buy, they tried to hang on to the old ways. The women wore dresses and cooked, cleaned and sewed. The men wore suspenders and worked the fields. They tried to maintain an independence and culture that Blaze had always admired.
