Big Sky Standoff

by B. J Daniels

  He laughed. “I love a woman with a good appetite.”

  The fire crackled softly, filling the air with a warm glow as blackness settled around them. A huge sky overhead began to blink on as, one after another, stars popped out in the great expanse.

  “I’ve lived in town for too long,” she said, leaning back to gaze up at them. She found the Big Dipper, the constellation that had always been her guide since her father had first pointed it out to her as a child.

  “This was the part I liked best,” Dillon said from beside her.

  She knew he was talking about his rustling days. He’d stayed in the wilds, seldom going into a town for anything except supplies. Or maybe to see some woman.

  Mostly, she knew, he’d killed what he needed for food. Illegally, of course. She’d found enough of his camps, the coals still warm and the scent of wild meat in the air, but Dillon had always been miles away by that time.

  “You know when I left here to go away to college, I never thought I’d come back,” Dillon said. “Too many bad memories.”

  “Halsey’s death,” she said.

  He nodded. “I thought I wouldn’t miss Montana. But then, I always thought the ranch would be there if I ever changed my mind.”

  She glanced over at him, hearing his pain, remembering her own. After she’d left for college, her parents had divorced and gone their separate ways, the life she’d known, her childhood home and her family, dissolving.

  She and Dillon fell into a comfortable silence, the fire popping softly, the breeze rustling the pine boughs and carrying the sweet scents of the land below them.

  DILLON WAS SURPRISED when Jacklyn began to tell him about her parents, the divorce, the new families they’d made, how hard it was to accept the changes, to bond with the strangers that were suddenly her family.

  He sat quietly as she opened up to him. Then he talked about Halsey, something he never did.

  But it was a night for confidences, he decided. A night for clearing the air between them. Here, on this high bluff, they weren’t an ex-con rustler and a stock detective. They had no shared past. They were just a man and a woman, both with histories they wanted to let go of.

  Their talk turned to more pleasant things, like growing up in Montana. Both had spent most of their time as kids wading through creeks, climbing rocks and trees, daydreaming under a canopy of stars.

  As the fire burned down, he saw there were tears in Jack’s eyes. “How’s the ankle?”

  “Better.”

  He couldn’t tell if she was lying or not. “Cold?”

  She shook her head, her gaze holding his.

  “I better check the horses,” he said, dragging his eyes away as he got to his feet. She dropped her gaze as well, but he could still feel the warmth of it as he walked down the steep slope to the creek. The horses were fine, just as he knew they would be.

  His real reason for coming down here was to make sure the area was secure. Earlier he’d rigged a few devices that would warn him if anyone tried to come up the bluff tonight. He didn’t like surprises and he couldn’t shake the bad feeling that had settled in his belly the minute he saw Reba Harper’s shotgun lying beside the rock pile.

  JACKLYN STARED INTO the fire. Sparks rose from the flames, sending fiery light into the air like fireflies. She could feel the effects of the pills Dillon had given her, but she knew they weren’t responsible for the way she was feeling about him.

  No, just before the rattlesnake had lunged, before Dillon had killed it, before she’d taken the pills, she’d acknowledged she would have only one regret if she were to die at that moment.

  When Dillon touched her shoulder, she jumped. She hadn’t heard him return.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He threw some more wood on the fire.

  She gazed into the flames again, too aware of him as he sat down beside her. Her heart was pounding, and all the oxygen seemed to be sucked up by the fire.

  “You’re trembling,” he said softly, his breath stirring the hair at her temple. “Your ankle is worse than you said.”

  “No, it’s not my ankle,” she managed to say around the lump in her throat. She turned her face up to the stars, feeling free out here, as if there were no rules. Was that how Dillon had felt? With society so far away, was it as if that life didn’t exist? “Dillon…”

  “We should get some sleep,” he said, rising to his feet.

  She grabbed his shirtsleeve and pulled him back down to her, landing her mouth on his.

  He let out a soft chuckle. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “I’m seducing you,” she said, and began to unbutton his shirt.

  He placed a hand over hers, stopping her. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “I do.” She unbuttoned her own shirt and let it slide off her shoulders.

  SHADE WATERS HEARD the creak of the barn door. The ranch hands were all in town, a little treat he’d given them for the night. He listened to the soft, stealthy movements and waited.

  He’d thought it would take longer. He smiled to himself and felt his eyes flood, the bittersweet rush of being right.

  “Dad?” Nate’s voice was tenuous. “Shade?” he called a little louder. “We need to talk.”

  Shade gave himself a little longer.

  “Dad, I know you’re in here,” Nate said, irritation mixing with the anxiety.

  Shade was just glad Elizabeth wasn’t here to see the kind of man her son had turned into. Or what lengths Nate would go to. Or for that matter, Shade himself.

  “I’m back here,” he finally called, and waited. He’d purposely sat on the bench next to the tack room. The only light was the overhead one a few yards down the aisle. He liked being in the dark as Nate came toward him, his son’s face illuminated in the harsh yellow light, his in shadow.

  “We need to talk.”

  “There isn’t anything to talk about. I’ve made up my mind.”

  Nate stopped a few yards from him and didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands. He finally stuck them into the back pockets of his jeans and shifted nervously from boot to boot. He looked young and foolish. He looked afraid.

  “I know you don’t want to cut me out of your will.”

  “No, I don’t,” Shade admitted. “But I’m going to.”

  “This is about Morgan, isn’t it?”

  “No, Nate, it’s more about you.”

  “What can I say to you to make you change your mind?”

  Shade shook his head. “You wanted Morgan. You have her. Or did you get her only because she thought that the W Bar would be hers someday?”

  Nate glared at him, fury in his eyes. “You think I can’t get a woman without buying her with your money?”

  Shade said nothing. The answer was too obvious.

  “Can’t we at least talk about this?” Nate’s voice broke.

  “There’s nothing to talk about, Nate. You made your bed. Now lie in it.”

  “Like you made your bed when you cheated on my mother?” Nate snapped.

  Waters saw an image of Reda Harper flash in his mind. She’d been so young, so beautiful and alive, so trusting. He would never forgive himself for what he’d done to her. He’d made her the angry, bitter woman she was today.

  “I gave her up for you boys and your mother.” He turned away, hoping that was the end of it.

  “Do you think monsters are made or born?”

  Waters turned back to stare at his son. “Are you crazy?”

  Nate laughed. “Crazy? I’m just like you.”

  “You’re nothing like me,” Waters snapped.

  “Oh, you might be surprised.”

  “I doubt that,” he said. “Nothing you could do would surprise me.”

  “How could I not be like you? All these years of watching the way you just took whatever you wanted. You didn’t think I knew.” Tears welled in his eyes. “You made me who I am today.”

  Shade felt sick just looking at his son.
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  “I only wanted something of my own. Morgan—” His voice broke and he sounded close to tears.

  “For hell’s sake, if you wanted something of your own why would you marry a woman who’s been with half the men in the county, including Dillon Savage?” Shade demanded.

  Nate nodded, smiling through his tears. “I have to ask you since I won’t get another chance. If Halsey had died before you hooked up with Reda Harper…”

  “What are you trying to say?” Waters demanded, knowing exactly where Nate was going with this.

  “You would have left me and Mom, wouldn’t you?”

  The big rancher rose to his feet. “I’ve heard enough of this. A man has to make sacrifices in this life. You need to learn that.” He couldn’t help the bitterness he heard in his voice. How could he explain true love to a man who’d just married a woman like Morgan Landers?

  Nor could he tell Nate what giving up Reda had cost him. That he still regretted it every day of his life and would take that regret to his grave with him. And maybe worse, he’d had to let her go on hating him, let her go on believing that he’d only been after her ranch all those years ago, that he’d never loved her.

  Nate would never understand that kind of loss. But he would someday, when Shade was dead and couldn’t walk up the road to the mailbox to get the letters in the faded lavender envelopes, trying to keep his secrets.

  “So what would you like me to sacrifice?” Nate asked. “Morgan? Maybe my life? Because you and I both know that I will never measure up to Halsey, will I, Dad? Isn’t that what this is about? Halsey.”

  “I loved Halsey. He was my son.” Just saying his son’s name made him ache inside.

  “Admit it,” Nate said, stepping closer. “If you had the choice, if you could wave your hand through the air and change everything, you’d want it to be me who died instead of my brother.”

  There it was. “Yes,” Shade said, and looked away in shame.

  SHE WAS BEAUTIFUL, the black lacy bra cupping her perfect breasts, her skin creamy and smooth. Dillon felt an ache in his belly and felt himself go instantly hard.

  Leaning down, he brushed his lips across hers. “Jack, do you have any idea what the sight of you half-naked is doing to me?”

  She grinned in the firelight. “I noticed, actually.”

  “Does this mean you trust me?” he had to ask as he looked into her eyes.

  “With my life,” she said.

  He laughed and shook his head. “I just wanted you to believe that I wasn’t behind the rustling. I’m not sure you should trust me with your life, Jack,” he added seriously.

  “Too late. I already have,” she said, and he saw naked desire in her gray eyes.

  It was the last thing he expected. And, he realized, the only thing he wanted. “Jack—”

  She pulled him to her and kissed him. He dropped to his knees in front of her, being careful not to brush against her hurt ankle as he took her in his arms and kissed her the way he’d been wanting to since the first time he’d laid eyes on her.

  Damn, but this woman had gotten in his blood. For the past four years he’d told himself he wanted to get even with her. But as usual, he’d been lying to himself.

  He just wanted Jacklyn Wilde. Wanted her in his arms. Wanted her in his bed. He drew back from the kiss to trail a finger over her lips as he searched her eyes, his heart beating too fast.

  “There’s no going back,” he said as he unbuckled her gun belt. “Unlike you, I take no prisoners.”

  JACKLYN FELT HER BLOOD run hot as he drew his palm down her throat to her breasts. She leaned back, closing her eyes as she felt his fingers slip aside the lace of her bra, his touch warm and gentle.

  Her eyes flew open, heat rushing to her center, when he traced around her rock-hard nipple, then bent to suck it through the thin lace, his mouth as hot as the fire he’d started inside her.

  She arched against his mouth, wanting him as she had never wanted anything in her life.

  He scooped her up in his arms and carried her to one of the small tents, setting her gently down inside it and crawling in after her.

  She could see the firelight glowing through the thin nylon, could still smell the smoke and the pines. It was cold in the tent, but in Dillon’s arms she instantly warmed.

  He unhooked her bra, baring her breasts to his touch. She hurriedly unbuttoned his shirt, desperate to feel his chest against hers, skin to skin. It was hard and hot, just as she knew it would be.

  His hand slipped under her waistband and she gasped as he touched her, finding her wet and ready. Their eyes met. Slowly he unbuttoned her jeans.

  “We have to leave your boot on,” he said. “I’ve never made love to a woman wearing her boots. But you know me, I’m up for anything.” His smile faded. “Are you sure this won’t be too painful?”

  She grabbed his shoulders and pulled him down in answer. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her, teasing her tongue with his, his movements slow and purposeful, as if they had all night. They did.

  IT WAS ALMOST DAYLIGHT when Dillon heard a sound and sat up with a start. They’d left the tent flap open. He could see the cold embers in the fire pit and smell the smoke as a light wind stirred the ashes and rustled the leaves on the nearby trees.

  But he knew that wasn’t what he’d heard. Someone was out there.

  Feeling around in the darkness, he found Jack’s weapon and slid it from the holster, careful not to wake her. He could hear her breathing softly and was reminded of their lovemaking. Desire for her hit him like a fist. He would never get enough of her even if he lived to be a hundred.

  He edged away from her warm body with reluctance, not wanting to leave her even for a moment. Stopping at the door, he leaned back to brush a kiss over her bare hip, and then rose and stepped from the tent.

  Reaching back in, he withdrew his jeans and boots, then put them on, tucking the pistol into the waistband of his pants as he straightened and listened.

  Just as he’d feared, he heard a limb snap below him on the hillside. He’d set up some small snare traps to warn him if anyone approached their camp, and knew that was what had awakened him. Now it sounded as if someone was trying to make his way up the slope.

  It would be light soon, but Dillon knew he couldn’t wait. The noise he’d heard could have been made by an animal. There were deer and antelope here, and smaller creatures that could have released one of the traps.

  But his instincts told him this animal was larger and more cunning. This one would find a way up the steep bluff. Unless Dillon stopped him.

  How had someone found them so quickly?

  He could only assume that one of Waters’s men had seen where they’d driven across the pasture. Once they found the hidden truck, they would tell Waters. And he would know exactly where they were headed.

  Dillon heard one of the horses whinny. He thought about waking Jack. All he wanted to do was get back to bed with her as quickly as possible. And maybe he was wrong. Maybe there was nothing to worry about.

  Moving through the trees, he headed toward the creek and the horses. If someone had found them, he’d be smart enough to take their mounts. It was much easier to run down a man on foot.

  As he neared the creek, Dillon stopped to listen again. Not a sound. Was it possible it had just been the wind in the trees? Moving on down the bluff, he saw both horses were still tied to the rope he’d strung between two tree trunks beside the narrow stream. The animals would be reacting if there were any other horses around. But probably not to a man on foot.

  Dillon tried to convince himself that everything was fine. And yet as he started to turn, he felt a rush of apprehension. He couldn’t wait to get back to Jack.

  “Dillon.” The voice was soft. One of the horses whinnied again, moving to one side.

  In the dim light of morning, Dillon watched Buford Cole step from the shadows. He’d wondered why Buford was going out to Waters’s place when he’d seen him earlier. Now he had a pretty g
ood idea.

  “You work for Waters.” Dillon’s words carried all of his contempt.

  Buford chuckled, still keeping one of the horses between him and Dillon. “Put down the gun and we can talk about it.”

  “Doesn’t seem like there is much to say,” Dillon commented, his heart in his throat. Had Buford come alone? Not likely. Dillon glanced back up the bluff toward the camp.

  “She’s fine. I thought you and I should talk.”

  “Too bad you didn’t want to talk in town, where we could have sat down with a beer,” Dillon said.

  “I’m serious, Dillon. Put down the gun and make this easy on both of us.”

  The last thing he wanted to do was make things easy for Buford. He brought the gun up fast, knowing he would probably only get one shot. Unless he missed his guess, Buford would be armed.

  Dillon fired just a split second before he was struck from behind. He tumbled headlong toward the creek, out before he even hit the ground.

  JACKLYN CAME AWAKE instantly, sitting up in the tent and reaching for Dillon as she tried to make sense of what she’d just heard. A gunshot?

  The bedroll beside her was empty, but still warm. Dillon was gone, but he hadn’t been for long.

  Her pulse raced as she scrambled in the semidarkness of dawn to find her holster. Her heart fell even though she’d known what she was going to find. The holster was empty.

  Where was Dillon? Her pulse took off at a gallop. The gunshot. Oh God. He would have returned to her if he could have. Her heart was pounding so hard in her ears she almost didn’t hear it.

  A limb cracked below her on the steep bluff. She froze. A squirrel chattered off in the distance. A bird belted out a short song in a tree directly overhead. One of the horses whinnied. Another answered.

  Move! Move!

  As she hurriedly pulled on her jeans, she was reminded of her injured ankle. Thank God it wasn’t broken. But it was badly sprained. She wasn’t sure she could walk on it. What was she saying? She had no choice.