Killer Cowboy (Cowboys of Holiday Ranch)

by Carla Cassidy

  “That must have been after I went to bed.” Cassie leaned down and picked up a couple of beer cans and tossed them into a nearby trash barrel.

  “Don’t worry. By tonight we’ll have this place back the way it belongs,” Adam assured her.

  She smiled at him. “I’m not worried. Aunt Cass was darned smart when she hired all of you.”

  A flash of pain darkened Adam’s eyes. “She gave us all a chance at a new and good life. Most of us would have been dead or in jail by now if it wasn’t for your aunt.”

  Cassie knew the story. When her uncle Hank had died of cancer, all the men who had worked on the ranch had walked off, convinced that a fifty-three-year-old widow would never be able to run the big place.

  Cass, along with the help of a social worker, had hired on a dozen runaway boys. That had been fifteen years ago and those boys had turned into fine, honorable and hardworking men who had been devoted to Cass.

  “She loved all of you very much,” Cassie said softly.

  “She was the mother we never had. But now our loyalty is behind you.”

  Cassie knew that, and it only made the decision she had to make more difficult. She had no idea about the troubled backgrounds that had brought all the men here, but she knew they had embraced her as their own. The men who had been big Cass’s cowboys had become hers.

  She kicked at a pile of hay and frowned as her boot connected with something. “There’s something under all this hay,” she said.

  She bent down and grabbed an armful of the hay and gasped as an arm appeared. “Oh, my God, there’s somebody under here.”

  Adam quickly joined her and together they moved more of the hay, exposing Sam Kelly, one of the new hires. Cassie stumbled backward in horror.

  It was obvious the man wasn’t just dead drunk. He was dead. He lay on his back, his blue eyes unseeing, and a pool of blood surrounded the back of his head.

  Shivers shot up her spine and bile rose up in the back of her throat. “Oh, no,” she whispered faintly. Adam grabbed her and quickly guided her out of the barn.

  “He’s dead,” she said and heard the beginning of hysteria in her own voice. She gulped in several deep breaths in an effort to calm herself, but it didn’t work.

  “Oh, my God, he’s dead. He’s dead, Adam.”

  Adam put his arms around her and she leaned weakly against him as tears burned hot at her eyes. How had this happened? Sam had been an affable young man who had instantly fit in with the other men.

  What had happened to him? Dear God, who had done this to him?

  “Cassie.” Adam smoothed her hair away from her cheek. “We need to go back to the house and call Dillon.”

  Still she clung to him, the vision of Sam horrifying her as she thought of the seven skeletons that had recently been discovered beneath the old shed they’d torn down.

  Fifteen years ago somebody had killed those seven young men with an ax or a meat cleaver to the backs of their heads, and those crimes had yet to be solved.

  Was this the beginning of a new spree of death? Had the killer been inactive for all these years only to become active once again?

  She hoped not. Maybe there was something beneath the hay that she hadn’t seen, something sharp and deadly. Maybe Sam had fallen backward and hit his head on that something. But if he’d accidentally fallen, then who had covered his body with hay?

  As Adam led her toward the house she could only pray that Sam’s death was something far different than the evil that had taken place here so many years ago.

  * * *

  Chief of Police Dillon Bowie eased down in his office chair, pulled open his top drawer and grabbed the bottle of aspirin he kept there. He shook two pills out in his hand and chased them down with a swig of cold coffee.

  It was his own fault he had a headache. He’d stayed too long at the barn dance, had drunk one too many glasses of whiskey and soda, and had burned with more than a little jealousy as he’d watched Cassie Peterson dance with practically every man in attendance.

  Every man except you.

  Of course he hadn’t asked her to dance, even though he would have liked to hold her in his arms for just a bit. Since the minute she’d taken over the Holiday ranch, he’d entertained some lusty thoughts about the petite blonde, but they had remained just thoughts without any follow-through.

  He leaned back in his chair and took another sip of his coffee. For the moment there was nothing pressing on his desk. The last six months had been a frenzy of crimes that had kept him busy and on edge. But nobody was in danger right now that he knew about, and he looked forward to just having some time to breathe.

  While the fifteen-year-old crime that had taken place on the Holiday ranch continued to torment him, he had no leads to follow at the moment.

  He finished his coffee and then leaned forward and glanced through the reports that had come in overnight, seeing nothing earth-shattering. Most of the time crime-fighting in Bitterroot wasn’t that challenging. There was an occasional domestic dispute or theft, and speeding down Main Street was a fairly common occurrence.

  If things continued to stay quiet then maybe he could get some things done that he’d been putting off...like getting a haircut and doing a little maintenance work around his house.

  A knock fell on his door and his dispatcher, Annie O’Brien, stuck her head in. “Just got a call from Adam Benson. They want you out at the Holiday ranch. One of the ranch hands is dead.”

  Dillon jumped out of his chair. So much for a minute to breathe. “Did he give you any other details?” he asked as the two of them stepped out of his office.

  “Nothing,” Annie replied.

  Dillon walked into the squad room, where several of his men were seated at their desks. “Juan, Mike and Ben, we need to get out to the Holiday ranch. One of the cowboys is dead. You all follow me there.”

  Minutes later Dillon was in his vehicle with two patrol cars following behind him. What now? As if the mystery of seven dead young men on the ranch wasn’t enough.

  It was probably an accidental death with alcohol playing a big part. There had been a lot of people who had imbibed too freely at the barn dance the night before. He’d even thought he might have to arrest Amanda Wright for indecent exposure if her patriotic sparkly bra had followed the way of her blouse.

  Cassie must be beside herself. She’d grown so close to all the men who worked for her. She’d certainly been horrified by the discovery of the seven skeletons on the property, as had the entire town.

  What had happened on the Holiday ranch all those years ago, and who was responsible for the carnage? It was a question that would haunt Dillon until he had the answer, and he was convinced the answer lay with one of Cassie’s cowboys.

  He turned into the entry of the Holiday ranch and hoped that this was nothing more than a tragic accident. He parked close to the back porch of the house and Cassie and Adam walked out the door before he got out of his car.

  Cassie looked achingly fragile and the sight of her tightened a ball of tension in his stomach. He left the car and approached the couple.

  “He’s in the barn,” Cassie said. “It’s Sam Kelly.” Tears glistened in her bright blue eyes. “We think he was murdered.”

  Dillon’s heart fell to the ground. “What makes you think that?”

  Adam turned to Cassie. “Why don’t you go back inside the house? I’ll take Dillon down to the barn.”

  Cassie looked at Dillon for confirmation. He nodded. “Go ahead. I’ll be in to talk to you later.”

  They both watched as Cassie turned and disappeared inside the house. When the back door closed, Adam turned back to Dillon.

  “Cassie and I went to the barn earlier to see what kind of cleanup needed to be done after last night. When we found Sam, we came right back to the house. I called Sawyer and he’s standing guard at the door to make sure nobody else enters the barn.”

  “Thanks,” Dillon replied. Dammit, there was enough DNA in that barn to keep a lab
busy for ten years. And that was only going to make a murder investigation even more difficult.

  He and Adam headed to the barn with Dillon’s officers following just behind them. Several of Cassie’s cowboys were gathered around the barn doors, all of them wearing sober expressions and all of them a potential suspect if this was, indeed, a case of murder.

  He didn’t even want to think about the fact that everyone who had attended the barn dance would now be a suspect. “Adam will take me in. Everyone else stay out here,” he said.

  As the two of them walked into the barn, Dillon immediately spied the man half covered with hay. There was no question that he was dead.

  “I need to get Teddy out here,” Dillon said. Dr. Ted Lymon was the medical examiner and there wasn’t much Dillon and his men could do here until Teddy arrived.

  He made the call and then stepped closer to the body while Adam hung back. “This is how you found him?” he asked the ranch foreman.

  “No. He was completely covered up in hay when we came into the barn. Cassie just happened to kick at the hay mound and realized something...somebody was beneath it.” Adam grimaced. “As soon as we saw it was Sam we went back to the house to call you.”

  Dillon sighed. “Round up your men and make sure they’re available for questioning later this afternoon.”

  Adam nodded and took the sentence as the dismissal it was meant to be. He turned and left the barn. Once again Dillon looked at the dead man.

  Sam Kelly was a local. His parents had died in a car accident several years ago and since then he’d bummed around town doing odd jobs until he’d landed here on the Holiday ranch a couple of weeks ago.

  He’d been a friendly young man, easygoing and seemingly without an enemy in the world. Yet somebody had killed him and buried his body with hay.

  Dillon fought the impulse to lean down and gently brush the last of the hay off the man’s face. He didn’t dare touch anything until photos had been taken and Ted had done his job.

  Whoever had done this had to have known his body would be discovered when the barn was cleaned up. On the portion of Sam’s body that had been uncovered, Dillon saw no other wounds. The blood that had seeped out around the man’s head tightened Dillon’s gut.

  Seven skeletons buried under the ground, each one showing deadly trauma to the back of the head. Now this, a man buried under hay with deadly trauma to the back of his head.

  The similarities were hard to ignore, and Dillon’s stomach churned with acid. Was it possible a serial killer had been dormant for all these years and now had become active again? Was the murder no more than a drunken brawl turned bad, or was it something far more insidious?

  Chapter 2

  Cassie made a fresh pot of coffee and then stood by the back door peering outside for what seemed like an eternity. She saw several more of Dillon’s men arrive and then Ted Lymon pulled up in his black vehicle. Her heart ached as eventually Ted left with Sam’s body.

  Anger, heartbreak and a hint of fear all rolled around in her head and it felt as if it had been a hundred years ago that she’d awakened with her only concern being a hangover headache.

  Her heart beat too quickly as she saw Dillon leave the barn and head toward the house. The man definitely stirred something inside her. At the moment she would love to lean into his broad chest and have his strong arms around her.

  But of course that wouldn’t happen. His strides were long and determined, and his mouth was a grim slash on his handsome face as he reached the back door.

  His dark blue uniform shirt fit tight across his broad shoulders and the slacks fit perfectly on his long legs. Instead of an official hat, he wore a black cowboy hat.

  Her head knew what he was going to tell her, but her heart wanted to deny it. She desperately wanted Sam’s death to be a tragic accident, but the evidence said otherwise.

  She opened the door for him. Despite the distress of the situation, she couldn’t help that the familiar scent of his spicy cologne shot a hint of pleasant warmth through her.

  “I made a fresh pot of coffee,” she said. “Would you like a cup?”

  “That sounds great,” he agreed and sat at the table. He swept off his hat and placed it in the chair next to him.

  She was acutely aware of his gaze on her as she poured them each a cup of coffee and then joined him at the table. She wrapped her fingers around her mug, suddenly cold again when she gazed into his troubled gray eyes.

  “It’s a murder case,” he said.

  His words didn’t surprise her, but she couldn’t help the small gasp that fell from her lips. “We’ll know more after the autopsy,” he continued. “Initially Teddy has declared the cause of death to be a sharp weapon slammed into the back of Sam’s head.”

  “A sharp weapon?” Cassie licked her dry lips.

  Dillon nodded, his dark, slightly shaggy hair gleaming brightly in the sunshine that danced through the nearby window. “Probably an ax.”

  “Like the others.”

  He paused to take a sip of the coffee then put his cup down slowly. “We can’t be absolutely certain, but there’s no way to dismiss the similarities.” His gaze held hers intently. “Cassie, you need to face the fact that one of your cowboys might be guilty.”

  A rise of anger usurped the coldness inside her. “That’s ridiculous. I know my men and my aunt Cass knew them. They’re all good people who would never do something like this.”

  “I intend to question each of them as potential suspects.”

  She leaned forward in her chair. “You questioned them all when the seven skeletons were first found and nothing came of it. Maybe you should ask Humes’s men what they were up to last night. They crashed the party and you know they’ve always been trouble.”

  There was no question that she lusted a bit after Dillon Bowie, but at the moment that emotion wasn’t anywhere in her heart.

  It was so much easier to embrace anger rather than to entertain her physical attraction to the chief of police, or give in to the tears that had threatened to fall since the moment she’d seen Sam’s body.

  She glared at him. “Why don’t you leave my men alone? They’ve done nothing to make anyone believe that one of them is capable of murder.”

  “Calm down, Cassie.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Has nobody in your entire life ever told you that telling a woman to calm down is like waving a red flag in front of an angry bull?”

  His cheeks reddened slightly. “I’m not the enemy here, Cassie,” he said softly. “Everyone who attended the barn dance last night is a potential suspect. In fact, what I need from you is a list of all the people who came to the party last night.”

  She frowned and leaned back in her chair, her momentary burst of anger gone. “You were here along with more than half the town.” She sighed. “Okay, I’ll do the best I can to come up with a complete list of names.”

  “I appreciate it. Now, tell me how Sam was working out here. I know he was a fairly new hire.”

  “I hired him on two weeks ago, along with Donnie Brighton and Jeff Hagerty. According to all the men Sam was fitting in just fine. Every time I saw him he had a cheerful smile on his face.” She bit her bottom lip to keep her grief at bay.

  “And nobody mentioned having a problem with him?”

  She shook her head. “Nobody on this ranch. I don’t know if he might have had issues with somebody in town.”

  “He’d moved in here when you hired him?”

  “Yes, he moved into Tony Nakni’s room after Tony moved in with Mary Redwing.”

  “Can you open his room for me?”

  “Of course.” Cassie got up and moved to the small built-in desk and opened the top drawer. “All of the men allow me to keep an extra key to their rooms for them in case of an emergency.” She pulled out a key ring with an oversize charm of a huge pair of gemstone-red high heels. “I’ll go with you.”

  She was grateful he didn’t protest her presence as they walked out the back door.
She was unsettled and didn’t want to just sit inside the house with only her dark thoughts as company.

  Grief for the young cowboy she was just getting to know weighed heavy in her heart, along with the uneasiness of knowing that last night a murderer had paid a visit to the Holiday ranch...to her ranch.

  She had to double-step to keep up with the tall, long-legged man next to her. It had been months since the skeletons had been found on the property, and Dillon had been a familiar sight around the ranch and yet she really didn’t know him very well.

  All she knew for sure was there were times when his gaze lingered on her a bit too long, when wild butterflies shot off in the pit of her stomach. However, there were no butterflies right now as she glanced at his stern features.

  They reached the cowboy motel where several of her men stood in a group outside their rooms. “Hey, boss, are you doing okay?” Sawyer Quincy’s copper-colored eyes held welcomed warmth as he gazed at her.

  “Thanks, Sawyer. I’m okay,” she replied.

  “Hell of a way to end a party,” Brody Booth said darkly. “Anyone tries to bash me in the back of the head with an ax, he’ll get a bullet in his gut before he can even get close to me.”

  Cassie turned to Dillon in alarm. “Do you think the rest of my men are in danger?”

  “There’s no reason for me to believe that at the moment, but we’ve barely started this investigation,” Dillon replied.

  “You don’t have to worry about us, Cassie. We all know how to take care of ourselves,” Flint McCay assured her.

  Cassie wanted to believe that, but yesterday she had believed that Sam Kelly could have taken care of himself. “I just want all of you to watch your backs,” she said.

  Aware that Dillon was waiting on her, she fumbled with the keys until she found the one that would unlock Sam’s room. When the door was unlocked, she pushed it open.

  Dillon stepped inside and she followed on his heels. The room was small, with just a twin bed against one wall and a chest of drawers on another. The closet door was open and the bathroom door was closed.

  The sight of the pictures of his dead parents that Sam had hung on the wall made Cassie’s heart cringe. The room was neat and clean and there appeared to be nothing out of place.