by B. J Daniels
“You’re wrong about what happened,” Waters said, sounding anxious. “I liked your father—”
“Don’t,” Dillon said, and pushed past the older man, striding toward the pickup, telling himself not to look back. His hands were shaking. It was all he could do not to turn around and go back and—
“I have a proposition for you,” Waters said from behind him.
Dillon stopped walking. He took a deep breath and slowly turned.
“You want your father’s ranch back? It’s yours.”
Dillon could only stare.
“I’ll throw in the old Hanson place, as well.”
Dillon took a step toward him, his fists clenched at his sides, anger making his head throb. “You think this will make up for the past?”
“I don’t give a rat’s behind about the past,” Waters snapped. “This isn’t a guilty gesture, for hell’s sake. This is a business deal.”
Dillon stopped a few yards from Waters. “Business?”
He couldn’t believe this old fool. Waters had no idea the chance he was taking. In just two steps Dillon could finally get vengeance, if not justice.
“I give you the ranch, you take Morgan Landers off my hands,” Waters said.
Dillon couldn’t have been more astonished. “I beg your pardon? Off your hands?”
“Don’t play dumb with me, Savage. What I always admired about you was your intelligence. You know damn well what I’m asking. I want her away from my son. Name your price.”
Dillon shook his head, disbelieving. “My price?” he asked, closing the distance between them. This was the man who had destroyed his family, stolen his ranch and now thought he could buy him as well.
Dillon reached out and grabbed the man’s throat so quickly Waters didn’t have a chance to react. He shoved the rancher against the side of the barn. “My price?”
“Dillon,” Jacklyn said calmly, from behind him.
Waters’s face had turned beet-red and he was making a choking sound.
“Dillon,” Jacklyn repeated, still sounding calm and not overly concerned.
Dillon shot a look over his shoulder at her, saw her expression and let go of the rancher’s throat.
Waters slumped against the side of the barn, gasping for air. “I’ll have you back in prison for assault,” he managed to wheeze as he clutched his throat.
“No, you won’t,” Dillon said to him quietly. “Or I’ll tell your son what you just tried to do. Better yet, I’ll tell Morgan.”
Waters glared at him. “Get him the hell off my property,” he growled to Jacklyn.
“We were just leaving,” she said.
Next to her, Dillon walked toward the pickup, neither looking back.
“What was that about?” she asked under her breath, sounding furious.
“The bastard offered to give me back my ranch.”
She shot him a look.
“And the old Hanson place thrown in.”
“He admitted he’d stolen your ranch?” she said, once they were at the pickup and out of earshot.
“Yeah, right.” Dillon glanced back. Waters was still standing beside the barn, glaring in their direction. “It was a business deal. He wanted me to take Morgan Landers off his hands.”
As Jack opened her door, she glanced toward him in surprise. “You aren’t serious.”
“Dead-on,” Dillon said as he joined her in the cab. He was still shaking, his heart pounding, at how close he’d come to going back to prison for good.
“He wants her out of his son’s life that badly?”
Dillon laughed and leaned back in his seat as she started the engine and got rolling. “Waters is one manipulative son of a bitch. But I’d say he’s met his match with Morgan Landers.”
JACKLYN WATCHED Dillon’s face as he glanced out in the direction of what had once been his family’s ranch. “Tempted?” she asked.
He smiled but didn’t look at her. “That train has already left the station.”
She thought about the lovely Morgan Landers, heard the bitterness in his voice. Jacklyn had little doubt that Dillon could get the woman back if he wanted. Nate was no match for Dillon Savage.
“The sooner we catch these guys, the sooner you can get your life back,” she said.
“What life?” He looked over at her and sighed. “I guess I do need to start thinking about the future.”
She nodded. “Have you thought about what you want to do?”
“Sure.” He looked out at the rolling grasslands they were passing. “I thought about leaving Montana, starting over.”
“Using one of your degrees?”
He nodded, his expression solemn.
“But you can’t leave here, can you?”
He turned to her again, then smiled slowly. “I don’t think so.”
But he couldn’t stay here unless he let go of the past, and they both knew it.
Ahead, Jacklyn spotted the turnoff to the Old Mill Road. She slowed the truck. “You wouldn’t have killed him.”
Dillon laughed. “Don’t bet the farm on it.”
She shook her head. “You’re not a killer, Dillon Savage.”
He looked over at her and felt a rush of warmth that surprised him. Whether true or not, he liked that she seemed to believe it. He reminded himself that while she might not consider him capable of murder, she did believe he was behind the rustling ring. Or did she really?
Jacklyn turned down the road, amazed by the lengths Shade Waters would go to get what he wanted. Was it possible Dillon had been right about him all along?
The road was rutted and rough, and obviously didn’t get much use. But clearly, a vehicle had been down here recently. There were fresh tire tread patterns visible in the dust.
As she topped a small rise, the huge old windmill, with only a few of the blades still intact, stood stark against the horizon. Near it, she spotted two vehicles parked in the shade of a grove of trees.
She swore under her breath as she recognized both of the people standing beside the vehicles, having what appeared to be an intimate conversation.
“And what do we have here?” Dillon said, as Sheriff McCray turned at the sound of the truck coming over the hill.
Jacklyn saw the sheriff’s angry expression. He left Morgan and walked over to stand in the middle of the road, blocking it.
“Tempted?” Dillon said with amusement when Jacklyn brought the pickup to a stop just inches from McCray’s chest.
With a groan, she powered down her window as the sheriff walked around to her side of the vehicle. He didn’t look happy to see her. Or was it that he wasn’t happy to be caught out here with Morgan?
“What are you doing here?” McCray demanded, glancing from her to Dillon. “You spying on me?” Clearly, he was upset at being caught. But caught doing what?
She glanced toward Morgan, who had gotten into her SUV and was now leaving. “Shade said one of his men noticed someone watching this end of the ranch. I told him I’d check it out.”
McCray frowned. “Why would he tell you that? There’s no cattle in here.” His eyes narrowed. “You’re going to have to come up with a better story than that.”
No she wasn’t. “My mistake.” She shifted the pickup into Reverse and, backing up the horse trailer into a low spot, turned around.
But McCray wasn’t done with her. He stepped up to her window. “Or maybe you had another reason for coming out here,” he said, scowling at Dillon.
“I could ask what you are doing out here,” Jacklyn snapped, before she could stop herself.
“I’m doing my job,” he retorted defensively. “Shade asked me to keep an eye on his place.”
“Really?” She glanced toward the retreating Morgan Landers. “Or did he make you an offer you couldn’t refuse?” Claude ignored that.
“I see you got yourself some new tires,” he said with snide satisfaction, no doubt to let her know he’d seen Dillon kissing her last night in the community center parking lot.
<
br /> “Don’t let me keep you from your…work,” she said as she let the clutch out a little quicker than she’d planned. The pickup lurched forward, the tire almost running over the sheriff’s foot.
He jumped back with a curse. As she turned the wheel and left, she saw him in her rearview mirror, mouthing something at her. She gave the pickup more gas and heard Dillon chuckle.
“I wonder what Waters offered him?” Dillon said. “That looked like a lovers’ tryst to me. I just hope I’m around when Morgan finds out that Shade Waters is trying to sell her to anyone who’ll take her.”
As Jacklyn drove back the way they’d come, she only momentarily wondered just how far Shade would go to protect his son from Morgan Landers—and what Nate would do if he found out.
But her mind was on what McCray had said about Waters not running any cattle in that section of the ranch. She’d known Pete Barclay was lying, but now she knew that Waters was, as well.
Chapter Twelve
As Jacklyn reached the county road, a truck whizzed past, headed in the direction of the W Bar Ranch.
“That’s odd,” she said, as she caught a glimpse of the man behind the wheel. Buford Cole had to have seen them, but appeared to turn away, as if not wanting to be recognized.
“Looks like he’s headed for Waters’s ranch,” Dillon said, lifting a brow.
She was reminded of what Buford had told her at the steak house. “He’s a friend of yours.” She hadn’t meant to make it sound so much like an accusation.
Dillon looked away. “I lost some friends when I went to prison. Buford was one of them.”
That surprised her. “Why was that?”
He turned to smile at her. “You tell me. Was he the one who helped you capture me? I’ve always wondered who betrayed me.”
She heard the pain in his voice. But it was the underlying anger that worried her. “No one helped me.”
He gave her a look that said he didn’t believe that for a minute.
“Buford used to rustle cattle with you, didn’t he?”
Dillon didn’t reply. But then, she thought she knew the answer. Buford had known too much about Dillon’s motives not to have helped him.
And what about Dillon’s other buddies, Pete Barclay and Arlen Dubois? Dillon hadn’t seemed happy to see any of them. And now that she thought about it, they were giving him distance, as well. Because they didn’t want her to know that they were still involved in rustling together?
“If I were you, I wouldn’t trust anything Buford told you,” Dillon said finally.
“Why?”
He looked at her as if she wasn’t as smart as he’d thought. “Because he can’t be trusted.”
“Unlike you. Is Buford smart enough to be running this latest rustling gang?”
Dillon shook his head without hesitation. “He’s smart enough, but he has no imagination.”
“Rustling requires imagination?” she asked, half-mockingly.
He grinned. “As a matter of fact, it does. Whoever is running this gang has imagination. Look what they pulled off at the Crowleys’. Stealing the cattle in broad daylight right in front of the house. That took imagination. And bravado.”
She heard admiration in his voice.
“Don’t be giving me that look,” he said. “If I was the one behind this gang, do you think I’d be bragging on myself?”
“As a matter of fact….”
DILLON GLANCED UP as she pulled off the road. Out the windshield, all he could see was pasture beyond the barbed wire fence gate. He shot Jack a questioning look. She appeared to be waiting for him to get out and open a gate that hadn’t been opened for some time. The fence posts on both sides were clearly marked with orange paint.
In Montana any fool knew that a fence post painted orange meant no trespassing. It meant prosecution under the law if caught on that land. And up here, especially with a band of rustlers on the loose, the rancher would be prone to shoot first and ask questions later.
Especially this rancher, because the land on the other side of that gate was W Bar property, belonging to Shade Waters.
“What the hell?” Dillon asked quietly as he met her gaze.
“I called Stratton this morning and told him we would be going north up by the Milk River for a few days, to follow a lead,” she said.
Dillon felt an odd ache in his chest. She’d lied to her boss, just as he’d suggested she should do. “Are you sure about this?”
“No,” she said without hesitation. “If you want to know the truth, I suspect you’re setting me up. But Waters lied about having cattle down by the old windmill and Pete lied about seeing someone in that area. I can only assume Shade was just trying to keep me busy. And that makes me wonder if he isn’t trying to keep me away from another part of his ranch. You said that stock truck was headed north, right?”
Dillon nodded slowly.
“Toward your old ranch.”
“Looked that way.”
“Any thoughts on why he would get rid of the rustled calves on your family’s old place?”
Dillon smiled at that. “For the same reason you’re thinking. To make it look like I had something to do with it.”
She nodded.
“So when I told you about the calves in the back of the stock truck, you believed me?” he asked.
“I wouldn’t go that far. I wanted to do a little investigating on my own first.” She reached into the glove box, pulled out a map and spread it on the seat between them. “Okay, Waters ranch house is here. Most of his cattle are in this area.” She looked up at Dillon. “I had a friend who owns a plane fly over it early this morning.”
He met her gaze. “You are just full of surprises.”
“The problem is there’s no way to get to your old ranch anymore without driving right past Waters’s house.” She pointed to the map. “Reda Harper’s place is past his. According to the map, there used to be a section road that connected with another county road to the east, but that’s now part of the W Bar.”
“Waters closed the road after he bought our ranch,” Dillon said, trying to keep the emotion out of his voice. Waters had had his family’s ranch house razed.
“Can I ask you something?”
Her tone as much as her words surprised him. And he knew before she asked that her question wasn’t about cattle rustling business.
“This bad blood between you and Shade Waters, am I wrong in suspecting it goes deeper than his ending up with your ranch?” she asked.
Dillon chuckled and looked toward the mountains in the distance. “I told you Nate had an older brother. He was killed trying to ride a wild horse.” His voice sounded flat over the painful beating of his heart. “Halsey was my best friend.” He looked at her. “It happened on our ranch.”
She let out a breath as if she’d been holding it, compassion and understanding in her eyes. “Shade blamed you.”
He nodded. “And my family. Halsey was…” He chewed at his cheek for a moment. “Well, there just wasn’t anyone like him. A day hasn’t gone by that I haven’t missed him.”
“It must be worse for Shade,” she said.
“Halsey was definitely his favorite of the two boys.” Dillon looked down at the map. “So what we need is a way to get to my old ranch without Waters or his men seeing us, right?” he asked, hoping she’d let him change the subject.
“Right,” she said, to his relief. “I thought you might have some ideas.”
He managed a grin. “You know me. I’m just full of good ideas.”
“Let’s see if we can find those calves,” Jack said. “Open the gate, Mr. Savage. You’re about to get us both arrested for trespassing.”
JACKLYN WOUND HER WAY among rocks and sage, across open grasslands. As soon as she reached a low spot where she was sure the truck and horse trailer couldn’t be seen from the county road, she cut the engine.
The former Savage Ranch land was miles away, but the only way to get there without being seen was by horseb
ack. Water and wind had eroded the earth to the north, carving canyons and deep ravines that eventually spilled into the Missouri River. It was badlands, inaccessible by anything but horseback, and isolated. They would have a long ride. That’s why she’d brought provisions in case they had to camp tonight.
Jacklyn didn’t doubt for an instant that Waters would have them arrested for trespassing if he caught them before they could find the evidence they needed to open up an investigation.
“You suspected the calves are buried on my family’s former ranch the minute I told you about the dead calves, didn’t you?” Dillon said with a grin as they saddled up their horses and loaded supplies into the saddlebags.
She just smiled at him. The truth was she’d had a hard time believing his story. Why kill the calves? What was the point of rustling them in the first place?
But the more she’d pondered the topic, the more she couldn’t help thinking about what Dillon had said regarding motive. Was there a chance it had nothing to do with money? That the rustlers didn’t want the calves—they just wanted them stolen?
It made no sense to her, but it seemed to make sense to Dillon. If what Buford had told her was true, Dillon had rustled cattle as retribution against his neighboring ranchers and Waters. He hadn’t wanted the cattle, either.
Which made her suspicious, given that the current rustlers appeared to have a similar, nonmonetary motive.
“Don’t you wonder why the rustled calves are being dumped on my former land?” Dillon asked.
“Like you said, it makes you look guilty.”
“But you know I’m too smart for that,” he said, grinning at her.
Again Jack smiled back. “Right. You’re so smart you would have the rustled cattle put on your land to frame Waters, by making it look like he was trying to frame you.”
Dillon laughed, shaking his head.
But the truth was he looked worried. And maybe with good reason. If DNA tests were run on the dead calves he’d seen, she’d bet it would match cattle stolen from the same ranches that he had stolen from in the past.
“What if you never get justice?” she asked seriously.
