by B. J Daniels
“Here’s the thing,” Emery said, finally getting to it. “I didn’t go to the sheriff after Vernon told me about seein’ ya. I know about the ten-thousand-dollar reward for your capture—”
“Actually, Caroline Quinn is offering ten thousand dollars for the arrest and conviction of the killer or killers of her husband, Gordon. It’s not a reward for me.”
Emery smiled at that. “Now yer just messin’ with me. Everyone knows ya killed that man, and with good reason, from what I heard. Heard he almost beat a horse to death with a club.”
“It was a piece of wood, not a club. I did pull him off the horse, I did threaten to kill him if I ever saw him treat a horse like that again, and when he said he’d do whatever he wanted with his animals, I hit him. But I didn’t kill him.”
His stepbrother eyed him with a tilt of his head. “Reckon it’s yer word agin the sheriff’s, but we’re gettin’ off topic here. We’re kin. I couldn’t turn ya in to the law for no reward.”
Only because it would take patience to wait through a trial to get his money, Trask thought. And that was if Trask was actually convicted.
“But I think I deserve somethin’, don’t ya?”
“What for?” Trask asked, playing along when he really wanted to knock Emery into the next county for this blackmail attempt.
“For not goin’ to the sheriff. For lettin’ ya know that Vernon seen ya. For my trouble.” He grinned. “It was a long hike up here. That has to be worth somethin’.”
“You’re right,” Trask said, taking a step toward Emery. “Sneaking up here to blackmail me deserves something, all right.”
Emery took a step back. He was as tall as Trask but skinny. Not that he wasn’t mean as a rattlesnake and wiry strong even as a kid. Also, Trask knew from experience that Emery never fought fair.
“Now hold on here,” the man said, raising his hands and taking another step back. “We’re just negotiatin’ right now.”
“No, we’re not. I won’t be blackmailed. Go to the sheriff, but you won’t be collecting any reward, since I didn’t do it, and even if I couldn’t prove it, my conviction would take years. You’d be old and gray before you got that money, and then the IRS would take half of it.”
“Now that’s just sad.” His eyes shifted again to the ravine he’d come up through.
Trask swore under his breath as he pulled the pistol from the back of his jeans and pointed it at Emery’s head. “Who’d you drag up here with you?” he demanded.
“What? That’s crazy talk. I come alone.”
“I don’t think so. Call them out, right now.” He leveled the gun at the spot between Emery’s eyes. “I could shoot you, bury you up here, and no one would be the wiser. Just give me another reason.”
For the first time, Emery looked worried. “I always thought ya had killin’ in ya. But I swear I come alone.”
“Call the person out. Now!”
“Vernon! Ya might as well come on out.”
There was the sound of rock cascading down into the gully and several grunts and groans before Vernon’s head popped up over the rise followed by a large, heaving body.
Vernon had always been big as a teenager. He’d gone to seed since then. He hoisted his bulk over the crest of the ravine and stumbled toward them. He was breathing hard by the time he reached the campfire.
“Hey. Trask. Don’t. Want. No. Trouble.” He bent over as he tried to catch his breath.
He realized the man must have still been climbing up the mountain all the time they’d been “negotiatin’.” Vernon was lucky he hadn’t had a heart attack, since he was obviously in poor shape.
Trask stared at them, realizing his troubles had just doubled. “Now, let me make something clear to the two of you. I won’t be blackmailed. I’m not giving you money. So, Vernon, I want you to catch your breath, then relieve Emery of his weapons. You’ll find a gun on him, I’m pretty sure. And definitely a switchblade if I know him as well as I used to. Otherwise, I can just shoot the two of you now and do myself a favor.”
“He’s bluffin’,” Emery said, but Vernon apparently wasn’t so sure, since Trask was holding a gun on them. Emery probably wasn’t, either, because he let his friend take his gun and knife.
“Toss them both into the fire,” Trask ordered. “Good job. Now, what do you have on you?”
“Nothin’. You can search me if you don’t believe me.”
“I just might do that. But right now I want you to sit down on the ground. Both of you sit down.”
“Come on, Trask. We can talk this out,” Emery said but sat down in the dirt.
“Now take off your boots. Both of you.”
“You can’t leave us up here without our boots,” Emery said, looking scared. “Them rocks and sticks’ll tear our feet up bad.”
“Your boots, Emery. I’ll leave your boots on the trail partway down the mountain. But if I have to ask you to take them off again, I won’t be leaving yours at all.”
Vernon had already gotten his off. He sat poking his fingers into the holes in his socks and staring at the ground, looking scared, as if he thought Trask was still going to shoot him.
Emery took off his boots in angry jerking motions and tossed them at Trask’s feet. “You’re going to pay for this.”
He picked up Vernon’s boots with his free hand. “Now, here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to toss a few things into my pack and leave the two of you here. Your boots will be on the trail down the mountain. It’s dark, so I suggest you stay here for the night by the fire and go down in the morning in daylight. You don’t know the way down as well as I do—and I have a flashlight.”
Emery looked furious. Vernon was still playing with his socks. This hadn’t been his idea. He’d merely let Emery bully him into it.
“When you get down the mountain, I’m sure you’ll go to the sheriff. Give him my regards. It was just a matter of time before he found out I was back in town anyway.” He was bluffing and he figured at least Emery knew it. But it was also true. “If I ever see the two of you again, I’m not going to be so nice.”
He set down the gun long enough to tie their bootlaces together, all the time almost daring Emery to try something. He wanted badly to punch him and had to remind himself that he’d changed. Unfortunately, Emery hadn’t.
Hooking the bootlaces over his shoulder, he slipped the pistol into a pocket of his pack, picked up his pack and his rifle.
“I’m going to find you again, only next time you’ll be the one in the dirt,” Emery blustered.
“There are a lot of places to hide in these mountains. I wouldn’t count on finding me, but you’re sure welcome to try.”
Emery looked as if he could chew nails. “My mother never liked you,” he said, spitting out the chewed-up toothpick.
Trask laughed. “If you’re trying to hurt me—”
“Oh, I’m going to do more than hurt you the next time we meet,” Emery threatened.
“I’d think twice about that, bro. We’ve already had this reunion. I don’t care to have another one. Stay out of my way or do it at your own risk.”
With that, he started down the mountain. Pretty much as he’d anticipated, Emery jumped right up, grabbed a rock and hurled it at him. The rock clipped his shoulder just enough to register mild pain, but mostly irritation.
He kept walking. He wouldn’t be leaving Emery’s boots on the trail partway down the mountain.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
JUNIOR WAINWRIGHT KEPT the conversation light, talking about growing up in this valley surrounded by mountains ranges. Summers were spent floating on the spring creek, going up to Crystal Lake camping, riding horses, building forts out of hay bales and catching frogs in the small creeks.
“You were such a tomboy,” he said not unkindly.
/> “What makes you think I’ve changed?”
“You haven’t and that’s one of the things I like about you. I hated, though, that you could always outrun me when we were growing up. That’s why I’m surprised I got that frog down your shirt. I thought maybe you let me because you liked me.”
“I love the way boys—and men—think,” she said with a laugh and realized she was enjoying herself.
She’d dated some since Trask left only to prove to everyone that she wasn’t going to die of a broken heart. The dates had been disastrous and had lasted all of one evening.
They ordered and ate in a companionable silence. She was seeing another side of Junior, a side she’d not let herself see—because she’d given her heart to Trask and he’d run off with it.
“Dessert?” he asked hopefully after they’d finished their meals.
“Why not?” Thinking about Trask and the past had almost dragged her back into her bad mood. The steak house’s famous chokecherry cheesecake would take care of that. The area held a chokecherry festival each year to celebrate the abundance of the berries. Fat juicy dark berries were stripped from bushes and the tart juice extracted to make jelly and syrup. It was an acquired taste. Most Montanans preferred the sweeter huckleberry.
The cheesecake was delicious. Junior entertained her with stories about his college days at the University of Montana, where he’d gone on a football scholarship. She’d attended Montana State University in Bozeman, a rival university.
“Wasn’t there someone special you met in college?” she asked, curious. “After all, you were the star quarterback. You must have had women falling all over you like rain.”
He laughed. “I had to get good grades and play well, so I didn’t date much. I met plenty of girls.” He shrugged. “If you must know, I found myself comparing them to you and they usually fell short.”
She shook her head, flattered, embarrassed and a little uncomfortable.
“It’s true.”
A silence fell between them.
“Sorry, I should have kept that to myself. Now you think I’ve been mooning over you since the frog incident.”
She licked the last bite of cheesecake from her fork. “Using me as your standard should have set the bar low enough that you could have found someone by now.”
“I like the original,” he said, grinning at her. It wasn’t a bad grin, but it was no Trask high beam.
“Did you say dancing?” she said to chase away any more of those thoughts.
They went to a bar at the edge of town that had a good country band and danced a half-dozen country swing songs before a slow one came on.
“Let’s sit this one out,” she said. “I could use a drink.”
He nodded, but she could tell he was disappointed. She was too. She’d been having fun, but the idea of dancing to a slow song with anyone but Trask...
“Trask may be gone, but he’s not forgotten, is he?” Junior said gently. “Even if he’s a murderer?”
She met his gaze. “He didn’t kill Gordon Quinn.”
“How do you know that?”
“I know.”
He nodded. “Then who did?”
She’d thought about nothing else for nine years. “One of his business partners.”
Junior seemed to consider this. “Why?”
“Money, probably.” She saw a change in his expression. “What?”
“Just something I heard back then.” He tried to wave it off.
“Tell me.”
She could tell he was sorry he’d brought up Trask. “That Gordon was leaving the partnership and going out on his own.”
“I heard that too. How would that have affected the company?”
“Nine years ago during the recession?” Junior said. “Since Gordon had the controlling interest in the company, I would imagine it would have bankrupted Skip and J.T.”
Lillie sat back and tried to catch her breath. No wonder they had gotten so upset earlier. “Good motives for murder, wouldn’t you say?”
Junior sighed. “This is not what I thought we would be talking about on our first date.”
“I’m sorry.” This wasn’t fair to Junior. But with Trask back in town... “No more talk of murder.” But she couldn’t help thinking about what he’d told her. If true...
The bar was dark and smelled of stale beer, much like most bars at this time of the night. There were only a few people on the dance floor, moving slowly to the song. Junior came back with the beers and sat down next to her in the booth, where he could see the dancing couples. She moved over to let him in and felt his thigh brush against hers.
Desire raced along her nerve endings. But not for Junior. She took a swig of the beer to steady herself. She’d had only the one glass of champagne earlier. The date had been going well enough that she felt she needed to keep a clear head. Would she have felt that way if she hadn’t known that Trask was back in town?
Would she be feeling this wave of desire right now for Junior if she didn’t know Trask was out there somewhere right now? Or maybe even closer, she thought with a start as she saw a cowboy at the back corner of the bar deep in the shadows.
She swore under her breath and took another drink of her beer. When she looked up, the cowboy was gone, making her wonder if it really had been Trask. How could he have known she was here unless... Unless he’d followed the two of them from the restaurant?
Lillie couldn’t believe he would be so reckless. What if someone had recognized him?
“Are you all right?” Junior asked when she reached for her beer bottle and overturned it. Beer went everywhere. He jumped up to grab a rag from the bar to clean it up.
The cowboy she’d seen returned. Not Trask. The man didn’t even resemble him. What had she been thinking?
“I’m sorry. I think I’ve had enough for tonight,” she said when Junior came back to the table and cleaned up the spilled beer. His gaze met hers and she nodded. “I need to go home.”
* * *
THE SHERIFF MOVED toward the shed behind the Duma house and the dark shadows next to it. The moon peeked out from behind the clouds. If there was someone standing there watching the house and saw him approach, they would run and he could be able to see them.
He was almost to the shed when he caught the flash of light. He pulled his gun only to realize it was the moonlight glinting off a ladder propped against the shed. With a curse, he holstered his gun and headed for the house.
Celeste met him at the back door. “Did you see him?”
“It was a ladder leaning against the side of the shed.”
“Oh, I told you I was just being silly. I feel like such a fool.”
No, he was the one who felt like a fool as he saw what his ex was wearing.
“Come in. The least I can do is offer you a drink, since I ruined your night.”
“It’s not ruined and no, I don’t need a drink.” He started to turn away.
“Please don’t be angry with me. I got scared and all I could think about was calling you.”
He turned back to her. “Maybe Wayne should think about getting you a security system, Celeste. The next time you get scared, call 9-1-1.”
“You are angry.”
“I don’t have time for this.”
“Of course, Maggie is probably waiting for you.”
“What is going on with you, Celeste?” he demanded, definitely angry.
She made that pouty little-girl look that he’d once thought was precious. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Today on the street you were practically in tears.”
“I told you, it’s my allergies.”
“You never used to have allergies.”
“You never used to talk to me like this.”
&nb
sp; “Whatever is going on with you, don’t make it my problem. You understand? Good night.” He turned and walked away, but he could sense her still standing in the doorway.
The familiar scent of her perfume seemed to chase after him. He’d recognized the negligee she was wearing. It was an expensive one he’d bought her for their first anniversary. He didn’t think it was a coincidence she just happened to be wearing it tonight. Nor that Celeste had known he’d had a date with Maggie tonight and looked out and seen something that scared her.
As he left, he drove past Maggie’s. Her porch light was out. Only one light burned deep within the house behind drawn curtains.
He didn’t stop but drove on home, wishing with all his heart that Celeste was out of his system. How could he move on with Maggie until she was?
* * *
“DID I DO something wrong?” Junior Wainwright asked Lillie on the drive out of town.
“No, in fact that was the nicest night I’ve had in a long time.” It was true. Tonight could have gone so differently if it wasn’t for Trask’s return. She’d enjoyed herself. She actually liked Junior, could have seen it going somewhere—if not for Trask. But he was back and until he was gone again... “I’m not ready for this.”
“After nine years, you’re still not ready?”
Her throat closed and she fought tears. Damn Trask. If he hadn’t come back... If she’d gone on this date believing he was out of her life. If she hadn’t given him her heart and not gotten it back.
“Is it me? Or is this about Trask?”
“It’s not you.” It would always be Trask turning her life upside down if she let him. Junior pulled into the back of the bar near the entrance to her apartment upstairs.
It was quiet back there. Whatever had the bar hopping earlier had slowed down. There were only a few pickups out front. She couldn’t hear the boom of music. When she’d bought the place, she’d made sure the floor separating her house and the bar were super insulated so the bar downstairs didn’t bother her on the nights she wasn’t working.
Junior shut off the car and looked over at her. She listened to the tick of the engine as it cooled. “I’d ask you if we could do this some other time—”
