Restless Hearts

by B. J Daniels

Blaze had trouble catching her breath. Her body ached with need for him. She felt tears burn her eyes, tears of aching pain and anger. “Then what was that about a few moments ago?”

  Jake met her gaze, his expression sad. “A moment of weakness. I do have them.” He shook his head with obvious regret. “Hell, woman, can’t you tell that I want you desperately?”

  “Then stop pushing me away!”

  “I could say the same to you. You want me but only to fill one need you have. I want all of you. You’re either in all the way. Or you’re not.” He finished pulling on his boots, clearly the effort painful for him. “And do me a favor, don’t throw anything at me this time as I leave. I’m not moving as quickly as I was the other night.”

  She opened her mouth, trying to find the words that would stop him as she desperately wanted to call him back. Telling herself that all she had to do was tell the truth. She did love him. He opened the door and, hesitating, looked back at her.

  “Just say the words, Blaze. Three little simple words.”

  Her heart pounded. She wanted him as badly as her next breath. But what he wanted was more than a commitment. He wanted her to surrender to him, heart and soul. Opening herself up to Jake like that, exposing everything about herself to him... She closed her lips and watched him walk out. It wasn’t until he’d closed the door that she burst into angry, frustrated, stubborn tears.

  * * *

  FIRST THING THE next morning, Sheriff Bud Fraser swore and threw the ballistics report down on this desk. He’d had the tests run three times—each with the same results. The gun Montgomery McClintock had been holding when found standing over Frank Anson’s dead body wasn’t the murder weapon. How was that even possible?

  He’d been so sure. He’d thought he’d had him dead to rights. This should have been a slam dunk, especially since the man hadn’t even tried to defend himself. Even when Blaze had brought in that fancy lawyer, Bud hadn’t worried. He’d been so sure that Monte wouldn’t get away with murder again.

  Just the thought of Bethany McClintock made his chest ache. He swore that Monte had gotten away with killing his wife and now he was about to get away with Frank’s murder, as well.

  Picking up the ballistics report, he balled it up in his hand and threw it into the trash. Not that it would do any good. The report would have been sent to the prosecutor. He was waiting for an angry visit from Dave. Worse, he knew what this meant. He didn’t have enough evidence to hold Monte.

  None of the other weapons taken from Monte’s house were the murder weapon, either. He’d even gotten a warrant to have Frank’s guns confiscated just in case Monte had used one of the man’s own guns to kill him.

  But the murder weapon hadn’t been found.

  Furthermore, Monte couldn’t have fired the shot. The coroner said that given the lack of deformities with the slug found in the body, the .30 bullet had traveled some distance. Which meant that Frank wasn’t shot by the man standing over him.

  A .30 caliber bullet could have come from a lot of commonly used hunting rifles, much like the .300 savage he had at home that had belonged to his father. Monte owned several rifles that the bullet could have been fired from. Unfortunately, they weren’t a ballistics match.

  Which meant he was no closer to finding Frank’s murderer than he had been the day he’d arrested Monte. Now he had several deputies out searching for shell casings on the road overlooking both the McClintock Ranch and the Anson place. The new theory was that the shot could have been fired from the county road.

  A hard knock at his door was followed by the door swinging open as the prosecutor burst in.

  “Have you seen this?” Dave demanded, waving the ballistics report in the air. Bud didn’t have to see the paper to know what it was. “What were you thinking?”

  He felt heat rush to his face. “You find a man standing over a dead body with a gun in his hand, and what are you going to think happened?”

  “Maybe if you asked a few questions—”

  “Monte refused to say anything. He just dropped his gun and stood there as he was handcuffed and taken in. Hell, how much more guilty could he have looked?”

  “Quite a bit more had he actually shot the man,” the prosecutor snapped. “If he’d actually committed the crime. If he was actually guilty.” Dave stepped into the middle of the room, the ballistics report crushed in his hand.

  From behind him in the doorway, attorney Clarkston Evans cleared his throat, making them turn. “So it appears that the pistol my client had on him wasn’t the murder weapon. Nor were any of the other guns confiscated from his house. Am I correct?” The sheriff grunted. “So there is no evidence that my client shot Mr. Anson, correct?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “I ask that my client be released at once.”

  Bud started to argue but the prosecutor cut him off. “Release the man. Now.”

  Bud stared down at his boots for a moment as he chewed at his cheek. “There’s paperwork that needs to be filled out first. I can’t see how he can be released before morning.”

  Dave glared at him. “Release him. Today.”

  Bud swore under his breath as the prosecutor turned to the attorney. “I’ll give my apologies to Monte when I see him.”

  Clarkston nodded. “I’ll go wait for my client to be released.” He started to leave but turned back. “He’ll need everything taken from his home to be returned in the condition it was in when taken, also.”

  “I’ll see to it,” Dave said and shot Bud a warning look. “Make it happen.”

  * * *

  BLAZE COULDN’T BELIEVE it when she got the call from Clarkston just before noon. She’d spent the morning going over the papers Martin Shores had messengered to her early this morning. Also she’d wanted to make sure that Jake was all right. As angry as she’d been with him last night, she was worried that he was hurt much more than he’d wanted her to know.

  She hadn’t seen him all morning, but was determined not to make a point of checking on him, even though if she didn’t see him soon, she was going out to the bunkhouse.

  “They’re letting him go?” She looked across the living room to where Jake had just come in the door. She grimaced at the sight of his battered handsome face and felt her own face warm at the memory of the two of them last night. Relief flooded her as she met his eyes. He was all right, moving a little awkwardly, but he would live, just as he said. He was watching her with interest.

  “The ballistics test results cleared him,” the criminal attorney was saying. “None of his weapons matched the one that killed Frank Anson.”

  She let out a breath. Just like that it was over? “You don’t think they’ll arrest him again?”

  “I can’t see why they would. The victim was shot with a rifle. Your father wasn’t in possession of a rifle of that caliber at the time he was arrested, nor did any of his weapons match the slug taken from Mr. Anson’s body. There is no other evidence against him.”

  “So it’s really over.” She met Jake’s eyes and expected to see more surprise there. She still couldn’t believe it. It seemed too good to be true. She’d believed that they would have to find Frank’s killer to exonerate Monte.

  “Your father is being released now.”

  “I’ll drive in to pick him up.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” the lawyer said. “I’ll give him a ride to the ranch. We can complete our transactions and then I plan to leave.”

  “Thank you.” She disconnected and looked at Jake. She saw that he’d overheard enough to know what was going on. “The ballistics test results... They can’t tie the shooting to him. The bullet came from a rifle and not one of my father’s.”

  “So as it turned out, Monte would have been released even without the lawyer,” Jake said.

  “Didn’t hurt to have Clarkston, trust me.” Blaze shook her head. “Look how they dragged their feet
on releasing the results of the ballistics tests. He’s been pushing for that report. They had to realize there was nothing more they could do to hold Monte. They must be quaking in their boots, worried that Monte will sue them for false arrest and imprisonment.”

  “I doubt that’s what he has on his mind,” Jake said.

  She looked at him, realizing that she had no idea what her father might be thinking. “I guess there is nothing standing in his and Allie’s way now. I just find it hard to believe that it’s over.” Also hard to believe that her father was about to have another child.

  “Because it’s not over,” Jake said. “Frank Anson’s killer is still out there.”

  She cocked her head at him, eyeing him closely. “What are you saying?”

  “That I’m not finished.”

  “Jake—”

  “Maybe this is something you don’t know about me, but I finish what I start.”

  Blaze sighed, pretty sure he wasn’t talking about Frank Anson anymore. “Not always,” she said, remembering last night.

  He smiled at that.

  She didn’t like the idea of him continuing to search for Frank’s killer. Look what had happened last night. “I think you just like taking chances.”

  He grinned, though it seemed to hurt him. “Nothing wrong with taking a gamble if the stakes are high enough and winning means you get what you want more than anything.”

  * * *

  SHE SHOOK HER head and walked into the kitchen, knowing that he wanted her to gamble on him. She didn’t feel that lucky. “I still can’t believe it,” she said as she came out of the kitchen with two beers to celebrate. Maybe they would break out champagne later.

  She handed Jake a beer. “WT was right. The sheriff had rushed to judgment, the animosity between them making Bud determined that Monte was guilty.” She’d believed the same thing, she reminded herself as she curled up in a chair.

  Now, as she took a sip of her cold beer, she felt weak with relief. She hadn’t wanted to believe that her father could kill and yet... “The ballistics report saved him. No wonder it has taken so long. I’m sure the sheriff kept running the test, convinced Monte did it.”

  “Well, your father is free,” Jake said as he took a seat. “I wonder what he’ll do now, though.”

  She hadn’t considered that. She’d just assumed he’d do what he had been doing for years, running the ranch, buffalo and all. She’d forgotten that things weren’t the same now. “Allie’s pregnancy. I suppose they’ll get married.”

  “Nothing standing in their way. But will they stay here, though?”

  She looked around the ranch house. When she’d come back, she’d wanted it to have changed. Now she couldn’t conceive of this place not being the McClintock Ranch.

  “I can’t believe he’d sell out and leave,” she said. “Where would he go? What would he do?” She remembered the papers she’d been studying just that morning and what Jake had said yesterday about passports. “You really believe that he’ll skip the country now that he’s been exonerated?”

  “He hasn’t been exonerated. They just don’t have enough evidence to hold him,” Jake said. “Do you really think the sheriff won’t stop coming after him?”

  She should have realized that. There would still be people who thought her father was guilty of the crime. And Jake was right. Bud would keep looking for something against her father. “I would imagine Monte could make enough money by selling the ranch that he could do whatever he wanted. If Allie’s selling hers, too, I would think they’d be financially set.”

  Blaze looked around, suddenly feeling oddly nostalgic about the place. What had changed since she’d arrived? Some locals had tried to run her off after stampeding the buffalo. Some other fools had burned down one of the barns. It wasn’t as if she’d had any ties to Saddle Butte or the ranch in years.

  Even when she’d refused to come back to the ranch, she’d always known it would be here. Now that it might not be, she felt a sense of loss.

  “You’re right, I can’t see any reason my father would want to stay here,” she said after a moment. “He’s alienated most everyone. And with Frank’s murder hanging over both of them...”

  At the sound of a vehicle, they turned to see the attorney’s rental car pull up. She rose, feeling anxious about seeing her father. Did he have a plan to leave the country with Allie as Jake suspected?

  “I need to settle up with the lawyer,” she said, glad that she had something to keep her busy as she headed for the door. It was over. That meant there was nothing keeping her here. Nothing keeping Jake here, either, but he was determined to stay until he found out who killed Frank.

  She felt surprised by the rush of mixed emotions she felt. How could she leave until it was really over? But how could she stay?

  * * *

  THE SHERIFF SLAMMED his fist against his desk. Monte had walked right out of jail and there wasn’t a damn thing Bud could do about it. He’d had him and now he had to let him go. Worse, his job hung in the balance because of the arrest. He knew he should go home, but he couldn’t face an empty house right now.

  He was actually glad when he heard LJ come in saying, “I figured I’d find you here. I heard. A hell of a deal.”

  Worse than his son knew. He turned as LJ slumped into a chair across from the desk. “What the hell happened to you?” he demanded, seeing his son’s black eye, cut lip and bruised and skinned knuckles.

  “Got into a fight last night. Nothing to worry about.”

  Bud added worrying about LJ to his long list and said as much.

  His son waved it off. “Wait until you see Jake Horn.”

  The sheriff groaned. He’d told his son to stay clear of the McClintock Ranch and Blaze and her boyfriend. LJ just didn’t listen sometimes. He wanted to yell at him, for all the good it would do. “Isn’t it your day off? Shouldn’t you be with your fiancée?”

  LJ groaned. “We had a little disagreement. She’s staying with her mom for a few days. I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Bud swore under his breath. LJ was going to blow it with Tawny just as he had with the others. Maybe if his mother had stuck around to help raise him...

  “You have to accept the fact that Monte might not have killed Frank,” LJ said, changing the subject as he stretched out his long legs.

  “Then who the hell did?” Bud asked as he got to his feet to pace the floor. It was all he’d been doing since getting the ballistics reports—cussing, fuming and pacing.

  His son shrugged. “I’d put my money on Frank’s wife. Everyone in town knew what was going on out there.”

  Except he couldn’t put Monte in prison for adultery. “I still can’t believe that none of his weapons matched the bullet Doc dug out of Frank. He had to have gotten rid of the weapon.”

  “Can’t see how. Everett heard the shots, rode right over the hill to find him standing there. Anyway, didn’t the coroner say the bullet was probably from a rifle? Where’s he going to hide a rifle out there in the middle of the prairie?”

  Bud glared at the back of his son’s head. He’d heard all this from the prosecutor. He didn’t need to hear it again from his son, who didn’t seem to have the sense God gave him and was now making sense.

  “I supposed someone could have shot him from the road,” LJ was saying. “Have to be a pretty good shot, though. Kind of like shooting a deer. Could have laid the rifle over the hood of his vehicle.”

  He glanced at him. That was exactly what it appeared had happened. LJ worried him. He kept waiting for him to grow up. Maybe by the time he was forty. If he lived that long. If he stayed out of jail that long. “What was Monte doing that he was so close by when Frank was shot? That’s what I’d like to know,” Bud said.

  His son rubbed the back of his neck. “You need to forget about Monte and find Frank’s killer if you hope to get Dave
and the county commissioners off your back.”

  This, as true as it was, wasn’t something he wanted to hear, either. He didn’t have any idea of who might have reason to kill Frank Anson other than Monte McClintock. He’d been so sure. He didn’t need anyone to tell him that he’d been hoping it was Monte. That he’d been waiting for the day when he could lock him up. He hadn’t been able to get justice for Bethany but at least he could have kept Monte from getting away with it again.

  If only the ballistics on that bullet had matched the pistol in the man’s hand.

  He cursed as he paced. “It’s bullshit,” he said. “The man got away with murder once. Is it any wonder I thought he’d try to do it again?”

  “Wait, who’d he kill?” LJ asked, that lazy look clearing off his face.

  Bud stopped pacing. He was sure he’d mentioned his suspicion to his son before. “I know damned well he killed his wife.”

  “Seriously?” LJ said, sitting up.

  “She leaves presumably in the middle of the night and is never heard from again?” Bud shook his head. “No way is she alive. After all this time she would have turned up. Damn fine-looking woman, too. Sweet, not like her daughter, who might have gotten her mother’s looks, but she’s her old man through and through.”

  “If he killed her, what did he do with her body?” LJ asked, interested now.

  Bud had given it thought over the years. “His daughter was sixteen at the time and living in the house. I would assume he would have had to bury Bethany on the property.”

  LJ scratched his neck in obvious thought. “He’s got a lot of acreage. Can’t imagine her body would ever be found. But what about her car? What did he do with that?”

  “That’s a damn good question. Supposedly she packed her bags and left in it. You’re right, he would have had to get rid of her car. Couldn’t go far or he would have been seen driving it.”

  LJ was sitting on the edge of his seat now, excited. “If we could find her car then we’d have him.”

  “It hasn’t turned up in sixteen years,” Bud said. “So if it is still around, it’s hidden well. Or he found a way to get rid of it where it would never be found. Every rancher has a backhoe. It could be anywhere, even buried behind his barn for all we know.”