Into Dust

by B. J Daniels

  “Shall we come by your house or would you prefer to meet us?” Buck asked.

  The sheriff had just gotten home, barely had hung his Stetson up on the hook by the door and was about to open a beer and relax. He glanced over at Lynette, who, not surprisingly, was all ears. “Tell me where you are and I’ll come to you,” he said, reaching for his hat.

  He heard his wife put the beer back in the fridge and turn down whatever she had going in the oven. She’d been married to him long enough already that she’d learned that his job was never eight to five. Another reason retirement had its appeal. He felt often lately that he was getting too old for this.

  Disconnecting, he called to the kitchen, “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  Lynette peered through the doorway. “Everything all right?” Which was her way of asking what was going on.

  “Everything is fine. I shouldn’t be long.” He turned and left, his crows calling goodbye to him as he climbed into his patrol SUV and headed for Russell Murdock’s.

  * * *

  BUCK WAS TOO anxious to sit. Russell had poured them another drink and then put the bottle away as if afraid they might finish it off.

  At the sight of headlights coming up the road, he tried to relax, but it was impossible. He knew Russell thought he was wasting his time talking to the sheriff about this.

  “He isn’t going to arrest the man, if that’s what you’re hoping,” the rancher had said.

  “No, but at least he can talk to him, let this...doctor know that we’re aware he’s in town and visiting Sarah,” Buck had argued.

  “Wouldn’t it make more sense to talk to Sarah yourself?”

  Buck had sighed. “Do you really think she is going to tell either of us the truth?” He’d seen that Russell thought she might tell him. That didn’t help his already furious disposition. He wished he hadn’t come here on impulse, and yet he had needed someone to talk to who understood. He was just glad that Sarah hadn’t been lying by omission only to him. She’d kept her former fiancé in the dark as well.

  “I heard you bought Sarah a ring,” Russell said from the corner where he’d been sitting, thinking and waiting.

  Buck shot him a look as he heard the sheriff park and get out. “I want my family back.”

  Russell nodded, but the truth hung between them. Sarah wasn’t the woman Buck had married. That family he’d had more than twenty-three years ago was gone the minute she’d driven her car into the icy Yellowstone River hoping to die. Or hoping to escape. Either way, she’d been gone and Buck’s wife hadn’t come back.

  Buck jumped at the sheriff’s knock on the door. He rushed to it and swung the door open wide. “’Bout time,” he said under his breath.

  Frank didn’t react, just wiped his boot soles on the mat and took off his Stetson as he stepped in. His gaze went to Russell, who had gotten to his feet. “What’s this about?” He sounded worried.

  “Sarah,” Buck snapped. “Who the hell do you think?”

  * * *

  CASSIDY COULDN’T SLEEP. She felt wired, her head aching with every kind of crazy thought. She still couldn’t believe what was happening to her, let alone that Jack was up to his neck in this as well.

  Stepping out onto the ranch house porch, she stood at the railing and watched as a huge orange moon seemed to rise from the valley floor. Hugging herself, she stood looking out across Hamilton Ranch. Tears burned her eyes. She felt as if she’d never appreciated any of this until now. True, her tears were partly from exhaustion. The adrenaline rushes she’d felt over the past forty-eight hours had depleted her energy.

  She couldn’t seem to control her thoughts—or her emotions. She knew she should go to bed. But the air out here felt good and seemed to help clear away some of the static in her brain. The night was infused with the scent of pines, the smells so familiar that they made her ache. She could hear an owl hooting softly from the trees. A slight breeze rustled the boughs, sounding like a contented sigh.

  Cassidy thought of her mother. She’d had little contact with her since Sarah’s return, but then again, the woman was a stranger to her. Intellectually, she knew that Sarah had given birth to her and her twin, Harper. But she had no memory of her.

  And yet there was a tenuous connection that she could feel blood deep. Was that why she had to confront her? Because she believed that if she felt that mother/child bond, then surely her mother would have it even stronger.

  Willing to bet your life on that? asked a small voice at the back of her mind.

  The moon rose, seeming to set the horizon on fire with a blaze of color. The breeze picked up, sending down a chill from the snowcapped Crazies.

  Go to bed, Cassidy. You can’t figure out anything as tired as you are.

  She thought of Jack’s words. Would everything be clearer in the morning? She could only hope because the one thing she did know was that she couldn’t hide out the rest of her life. While she appreciated her education, she hated that she hadn’t accomplished anything yet in life.

  Being back here made her more aware of an old dream she had of starting a commercial organic garden on the ranch. Her father had all this land, why not put it to use other than just feeding cows and horses?

  She’d never mentioned her dream to even her sisters. They would all laugh. She hadn’t wanted to think about what her father—a hard-core rancher—would say about it. But being back here made her yearn for that dream—or any one that promised her a future.

  She was tired of bumming around the world telling herself she was getting an education. This was where she belonged. This was where she would make her mark on the world.

  Unless her mother—and The Prophecy—had other plans for her. With a shudder, she went back inside and, doing something she’d never done on the ranch, she locked the door behind her. It felt foolish, given the age of the lock. Any fool could break in.

  But she knew that even if the door had a half-dozen dead bolts, she wouldn’t feel safe. What would it take to feel safe again, she wondered as she started up the stairs.

  At the landing, she listened to Jack’s rhythmic breathing from the open doorway of his bedroom. A feeling of peace washed over her as she made her way to her own room. After stripping off her clothes, she pulled on the white cotton gown she’d bought and slipped between the cool sheets.

  Her head had barely touched the pillow when her eyes closed and she felt herself falling asleep as if tumbling down into a deep black hole.

  * * *

  FRANK PUT HIS Stetson aside and took the chair he was offered. He didn’t need to wait long.

  “That doctor, Dr. Ralph Venable, he’s back and he’s seeing Sarah,” Buck bellowed. “You know damned well that he’s messing with her memory again and only God knows what else. What are you going to do about it?”

  Frank looked over to where Russell sat in the corner. He had an empty drink glass in his hand that he turned in his fingers as if his mind was a million miles away.

  “Russell?” the sheriff said. “You have something to say?”

  He looked up in surprise, then slowly took a breath and let it out before he spoke. “Sarah’s going to do whatever it is she wants to do.” He shrugged and Frank got the feeling the rancher had already drunk more alcohol than was normal for him.

  Buck waved a dismissive hand at Russell and his comment. “You have to run him out of town.”

  Frank laughed and shook his head. Was this what had brought these two adversaries together? A mutual hatred for Dr. Venable?

  “This isn’t the Old West, Buck. We don’t tar and feather people we don’t like and send them out on the rails. As long as the doctor hasn’t done anything illegal—”

  “Well, how would we know that?” Buck demanded.

  “Also, if Sarah is seeing him of her own free will—”

&nb
sp; “He’s messing with her mind. She probably doesn’t even know her own free will,” the senator snapped.

  “Have you talked to Sarah about this?” the sheriff asked and saw the answer right away. “But you know for a fact that Dr. Venable is in town and has had contact with her?”

  “I saw him going into her house as if it wasn’t his first time there and he...he left his tie there,” Buck said and drained his glass to look around for the bottle. Russell sighed and got up to retrieve it from the kitchen, where he’d put it earlier.

  Frank ran a hand through his hair. “I would suggest that you talk to Sarah before you—”

  Again Buck interrupted him. “Damn it, Frank, I need you to talk to her and if all you can do is talk to this doctor, then do it.”

  The sheriff sighed as Buck poured himself a drink from the bottle, put it aside and stared down at the amber liquid. Getting to his feet, Frank picked up his hat. “This is not my affair,” he said and instantly wished he’d chosen his words better.

  “We pay you to keep this county safe,” Buck said, still holding the drink he’d poured.

  “In that case, if you’re going to drink that, I would suggest you not drive. As far as Dr. Venable, it doesn’t appear that either he or Sarah have done anything to make the county unsafe,” Frank said. “You know I have my suspicions about Sarah’s return and your election, but that’s all they are. You said yourself that you don’t believe Sarah has any involvement in anything we should concern ourselves with.”

  Buck swore. “I’m telling you, he’s messing with her mind.”

  “Talk to her, Buck. That’s the best advice I can give you,” the sheriff said as he settled his Stetson back on his head and opened the door to leave. He stopped in the open doorway to glance back at Russell. “Or let Russell talk to her. Maybe she’ll be more forthcoming with him.” He managed to get the door closed behind him before Buck went off, but he could still hear him cussing as he got into his patrol SUV.

  It wasn’t that he didn’t share Buck’s concern about his first wife. He would have bet his ranch that they all had reason not to trust Sarah. What woman parachuted from a plane at low altitude and at night to return to the family she’d left? There were too many questions and Sarah wasn’t apparently capable of answering any of them.

  Frank worried that Sarah wasn’t just dangerous. He believed that she would be the death of Buck—if he was elected president—and bring harm to the entire country.

  But without any evidence, his hands were tied.

  * * *

  JACK WOKE TO SCREAMING. He lurched from the bed, confused and disoriented as to where he was, let alone what was going on. He grabbed his jeans and hopped on one foot and then the other before he got them pulled on and partially buttoned. Picking up his gun, he hurried out the open doorway of his room.

  The moment he stepped into the hall, he realized that the screaming was coming from the room Cassidy had taken. Rushing down the hallway, he tried her door, praying it wasn’t locked. It wasn’t.

  As he threw open the door, he saw the room cast in moonlight. There was no one in the room except Cassidy. She lay thrashing about on the bed, still screaming. The sound ripped at his heart as he crossed the space in three long strides.

  “Cassidy.” He reached to touch her shoulder, half-afraid to wake her too suddenly and yet unable to stand seeing her so obviously terrified.

  The moment his fingertips touched her heated skin, she flinched and struck out at him, her screams rising in pitch.

  “Cassidy!” He stuck the gun into the waist of his jeans and grabbed her shoulders, shaking her gently as she tried to fight him off. She was gasping for breath, her eyes open, but focused on something in her nightmare. Was she reliving her attempted abduction?

  She was stronger than he’d imagined. One of her blows hit him in the eye, another caught his nose, making him wince in pain.

  He shook her harder, calling her name until he saw her blink and look wildly around the room. He could see that she was still caught in the darkness of her nightmare.

  She gave a violent shudder before her gaze focused on him. “Is she still here?”

  “Who?”

  “My...mother.”

  He thought of the empty room he’d entered. “Your mother isn’t here.”

  She swallowed, taking another gasp of air as her body seemed to go limp.

  Jack released her shoulders, letting her fall back against the pillows. Was it possible her mother had figured out where Cassidy had gone and paid her a middle-of-the-night visit? Not likely. “I think you just had a bad dream.”

  Cassidy shook her head as if dispelling the last remnants of the nightmare. Her gaze took in the room. Sitting up, she pulled the quilt on the bed up to her throat and held it there clutched in her two fists. He could see that she was shaking in the moonlight.

  “Your nose is bleeding,” she said, frowning as she finally settled her gaze on him.

  He chuckled and reached for a tissue on the nightstand. “You have a mean right hook.”

  “I’m sorry. I...” Her gaze went again to the moonlit room. “I must have scared you. Was I screaming?”

  “You sounded terrified.”

  She nodded. “I haven’t had that dream in years. This time it was so real that I thought...”

  “Do you want to tell me about it?” he asked as he sat down on the edge of her bed. She still looked scared. He didn’t want to leave her alone. Not yet.

  “It’s one of those dreams that doesn’t make any sense,” she said, looking embarrassed. “I’m in my room at the ranch and I wake up to find my mother standing over me.” She gave a shiver as if the image still held her worst fears. “She is covered with dirt and her face...” Cassidy looked away as if fighting tears. “She says she’s come from her grave for me. Her hands are covered in dirt as she starts to reach for me. But it isn’t to pick me up. Her hands grab my throat...”

  Jack pulled her to him. She came easily, curling against his chest as he rubbed her back through the thin cloth of the cotton gown she wore. On his bare chest, he felt the heat of her through the gown. Her back was damp with perspiration. She shivered and he pulled her closer.

  For a moment he didn’t speak. He was too shocked by her account of the dream. Or a premonition? Sarah Johnson Hamilton coming back from the grave for her daughter.

  “How old were you when you first had the dream?” he asked, as nonchalantly as he could.

  “Three or four. It was so real that the next morning I expected to find dirty footprints on my bedroom floor.” She shivered and he tightened his arms around her, pressing his lips into her short dark hair.

  After a moment, she angled her head to look up at him. Her blue eyes were huge in the moonlight. One tear still clung to her lash, looking like a shining jewel. He touched it with his fingertip and it dissolved, warm and wet into his skin. His gaze shifted to her bow-shaped mouth. Her lips trembled, then parted. A soft mew of a sound escaped them.

  There was nothing to do but kiss her. He lowered his mouth to hers, tasting the salt of her tears, then the sweet soft interior as the kiss became more demanding.

  She pulled him down beside her. He felt himself being drawn into the sensual heat of her mouth, her body beneath the thin cotton gown, as the quilt fell away. Her breasts were round and full, her nipples hard and taut against his bare chest.

  Jack pulled back from the kiss to look into her eyes. They shone in the moonlight, bright as blue diamonds. “Are you sure about this?”

  She cupped his jaw with her hand and gave him a tremulous smile before she drew his mouth down to hers again.

  * * *

  CASSIDY BRUSHED HER fingers over Jack’s stubbled jaw, her fingertips tingling from the touch of him. His mouth devoured hers, as hungry as she was for him. As the kiss broke
off, she leaned her head back against the pillow. His lips trailed tantalizing kisses down her throat to the rise of her breasts.

  With warm fingers, he slowly slid down one strap of her gown to expose the dark hard nipple of her breast. His mouth dropped to it, his tongue lathed it to a peak so erect that she arched against his mouth, wanting more. Sliding down the other strap, he latched onto her other nipple. She let out a moan, desperate to rid herself of the gown and him of his jeans.

  Fumbling, she managed to undo what few buttons he’d closed on his jeans to find him naked under the denim. Her fingers brushed the crisp, tight dark curls beneath before pressing her hand against his male hardness.

  She had never wanted a man as she wanted him now. She lost herself in the heat of his touch, the solid warmth of his body, the pressure of his mouth as it moved over her skin.

  But as she reached to free the last buttons on his jeans, he covered her hand to stop her. She pulled back to look into his eyes questioningly.

  “I don’t want it to be like this the first time we make love,” he said quietly. “You’re still scared from the dream. This isn’t the time.”

  She stared at him in disbelief as he pulled up the straps of her gown, then rose to close the buttons of his jeans. “Jack,” she cried. “You can’t be serious. You can’t...” Her gaze went around the room. She hugged herself, aware of how cold the room was without him next to her.

  “I’m not leaving you,” he said as he crawled back into the bed beside her and pulled the quilt over them. “I’m just not making love to you. It would be too easy to take advantage of the way you’re feeling right now.”

  She wanted to start screaming again. The way she felt right now was as turned on as she’d ever been in her life. “You are the most, the most—”

  “Chivalrous man you’ve ever met?”

  “That wasn’t exactly what I was going to say.”

  But as he snuggled against her, his bare chest warm and reassuring against her, she closed her eyes and felt her pulse return to normal. The exhaustion that she’d gone to bed with earlier returned almost immediately and she felt herself drifting toward sleep.