The Rivals

by Joan Johnston

  “Told you I’d get him one day,” King said viciously. “You can kiss good-bye any hopes you ever had of that bastard son of yours becoming president.”

  “My son only took what your daughter freely offered,” Blackjack shot back. “If a bitch wags her tail hard enough, she’ll get what she’s asking for.”

  Drew heard a gasp and realized it had come from behind Blackjack.

  “Dammit all to hell!” Blackjack said, as he took a step aside and revealed Libby Grayhawk. “Didn’t realize you were standing back there, girl.”

  Libby’s face was ashen.

  Drew wondered how Libby Grayhawk had ended up on the Blackthorne side of the courtroom. Then he saw Jocelyn Montrose and realized Libby must have brought her house guest here this morning and stayed by her side out of courtesy.

  “I need to be getting home,” Libby said. Drew saw her hands were shaking as she pulled on her coat.

  Before she could leave, Blackjack’s wife Ren slid an arm through Libby’s and said, “My husband wants to apologize first.”

  Drew watched the ice melt in Blackjack’s cold gray eyes as his wife looked up at him.

  “I’m sorry, Ms. Grayhawk,” Blackjack said. “That was discourteous of me.”

  King Grayhawk laughed. It wasn’t a nice sound. “Easy to see who wears the pants in your family.”

  “Shut up, Daddy,” Libby said matter-of-factly. She turned to Blackjack and said, “Thank you, Mr. Blackthorne. I do need to get home. There are chores to do.” She turned to the elegant woman at her side and said, “Do you want to come with me, Jocelyn?”

  “But of course,” Jocelyn said.

  When Libby and Jocelyn were gone, Blackjack turned back to King and said, “I know other judges.”

  “So do I,” King said. “That boy of yours is going to stay behind bars till hell freezes over.”

  “Clay can take care of himself,” Blackjack said. “I want to know what you’ve done with Kate. Where’s my granddaughter?”

  For the first time King looked rattled. His shoulders lost their stiffness and his complexion turned ashy. “I don’t have her. I wish to God I did.”

  “You mean to say you have no idea—”

  “I told you I don’t!” King interrupted. “I’ve got every hand on my spread out looking for her. No one knows where she is. She’s just plain disappeared. When I get my hands on the sonofabitch who took her—”

  “Vengeance is going to be cold comfort if Kate turns up dead,” Blackjack said brutally.

  King looked stricken. “I’m doing everything in my power—”

  “Maybe this is going to take both of us…working together,” Blackjack said.

  Drew expected King to come back with another malicious retort, but the old man said, “I’m willing to call a truce if you are. We can pick up our guns again when Kate is safe.”

  Drew felt like gasping himself, as Blackjack extended his hand and King Grayhawk clasped it.

  “Till Kate is found,” King said.

  “Till Kate is found,” Blackjack repeated.

  Drew hadn’t realized either man was aware of him until Blackjack turned to him and said, “What information can you give us about who might have taken Kate?”

  Drew found himself the focus of all eyes. He glanced at King Grayhawk, then at Blackjack and said, “I do have a theory about why she might have been taken.”

  “Speak up, man,” King said.

  “Are you involved in an oil consortium doing a deal with the Japanese?” Drew asked King.

  “I backed out of that.” King turned to Blackjack and said, “Heard that boy of yours was investigating the deal, so I took a closer look at it myself. Didn’t like what I found.”

  “When did you back out?” Drew said.

  King lifted his Stetson, scratched his head, smoothed his hair and tugged his Stetson back down low on his forehead. “Two weeks ago, maybe.”

  “Have you been getting any pressure from anyone to get back in?”

  “Are you suggesting Niles Taylor and that gang are responsible for Kate’s disappearance?” King said. “Because if you are—”

  “Have you been getting pressure from anyone to get back in the Japanese deal?” Drew said impatiently.

  “I got a call from…” King turned to Blackjack and said, “You and I need to talk.”

  “The police—” Drew began.

  “No need to involve a bunch of Barney Fifes,” King said, cutting him off. “I can handle this.”

  King glanced at Blackjack, who turned to Drew and said, “The two of us certainly can.”

  “What about Clay?” Drew asked Blackjack.

  “Clay isn’t going anywhere,” Blackjack said with a sardonic twist of his mouth. “I’m sure he’d appreciate anything you can do to help him find out who killed that young woman.”

  “I want to be there when you talk to Taylor,” Drew said.

  Blackjack glanced at King, who nodded, then said, “All right. I’ll give you a call.” He slipped an arm around Ren’s shoulder, gestured King down the courtroom aisle and said, “Shall we go?”

  Drew’s jaw was agape as he watched the two powerful enemies stride away like old friends. Men who’d grown up on the Western frontier were definitely a different breed. In order to survive, they’d learned to set aside their personal animosity to fight mutual enemies—the Sioux or the Blackfoot or natural disasters—knowing they could fight each other at a more convenient time.

  He’d never expected to see two lifelong rivals join hands to work together. But to save their granddaughter, they had.

  He only hoped King and Blackjack would succeed. An image formed in his mind of Jackson Blackthorne throttling Niles Taylor and he smiled grimly. The man would talk, all right.

  Drew was closing his briefcase when he saw movement from the corner of his eye. He looked up and caught his breath at the sight of Sarah Barndollar. She looked even more beautiful than he remembered. Probably because he saw her now as forbidden fruit. He’d walked away. He meant to stay away. Better not to be nice. Better to put a fence up before she closed the distance between them.

  “Don’t you ever take a day off?” he said, letting his irritation that she was off-limits come out in his voice.

  He watched her chin come up pugnaciously before she said, “I left three messages for you this morning. You never called me back.”

  “Oh, shit.” He’d forgotten. Again. “I’m sorry. I was going to call you but—”

  “I got an anonymous call from a man who said he’d been blackmailed the same way someone attempted to blackmail Clay.”

  Drew froze in the act of shutting his briefcase. “Does he know who’s at the bottom of this?”

  “He suggested a place where he thought the kidnapped girls might be held. I thought you might want to come along.”

  “You’re not calling in the cavalry?” Drew asked.

  “I’m on administrative leave,” Sarah said. “If I call it in, my sergeant will assign someone else to check it out. Besides, I’m not sure it’s a legitimate lead. I’d rather take a look myself first. I can always call in help later, if I need it.”

  “I’m glad you came to me,” Drew said as he snapped his briefcase closed. “How are we getting there?”

  “We’ll need to ski up Game Creek Canyon,” she said.

  Drew hesitated. “This place is near the top, I suppose.”

  “Where else?” Sarah said with a smile.

  Game Creek Canyon was another place he hadn’t skied much since he’d been buried under five feet of snow at 25 Short—because it was one of those places where avalanche was always a danger.

  But Kate might be up there somewhere. And Sarah had asked for his help.

  “I’ll need to stop by my place to change clothes and get some gear,” he said.

  “Thanks, Drew,” Sarah said. “I’d like to take my Tahoe, in case I need to use the radio to call for help later.” She followed him outside and said, “I can give you a ride to
your place, if you like, and we can go from there.”

  The few flakes of snow Drew had seen first thing in the morning had become a full-fledged snowstorm. “Not the best weather to be heading up into Game Creek Canyon,” he said.

  “I don’t want to wait.”

  Drew could understand Sarah’s urgency, but he couldn’t help wondering how they were going to see to get where they were going. He didn’t want to think about the very real possibility of an avalanche, if it kept snowing this hard and the wind kept blowing.

  “Who’s taking care of the kids while you ride to Kate’s rescue?” Drew asked as Sarah turned onto Spring Gulch Road.

  “Nate and Brooke can take care of themselves,” Sarah replied. “They both look after Ryan.” She glanced at him and said, “I didn’t want to leave them alone so soon after last night. But Brooke overheard me talking on the phone with that anonymous caller and mentioned it to Nate. The kids want me to do whatever I can to find the man responsible for their father’s murder.”

  “They’re amazing kids,” Drew said.

  “They’re normal kids,” Sarah countered. “They have their good days and their bad days. They’ll always miss their father.”

  “Will you miss him?” Drew could have bitten out his tongue for asking such a revealing question, for which the answer was obvious.

  “I’m glad to know he didn’t run away from us,” Sarah said soberly. “From me. We’d argued that last morning. Tom didn’t want me to work such long hours. He wanted me to spend more time with him and the kids.”

  Drew wasn’t sure what to say. He settled for, “That sounds reasonable.”

  “I tried explaining to him why I needed so badly to find those missing girls.” She glanced at him and said, “My sister disappeared when I was fourteen. She was never found.”

  “I’m sorry,” Drew said. “I had no idea.”

  “Tom said the past didn’t matter, that I should put my family first.”

  “It sounds like you both had a point.”

  Her lips twisted ruefully. “You’re not taking sides?”

  “I can see both sides,” Drew said. “Is one necessarily right and one wrong?”

  “The problem was that Tom and I could never find a middle ground.” Sarah looked at Drew, then back at the road and said, “After Tom disappeared, I think I spent even more time at work, to the detriment of my kids.”

  “They’re doing fine,” Drew said.

  She grimaced and said, “Would Nate have been out stealing antlers from the town square if he had a mother at home keeping an eye on him? Would Brooke be starving herself every chance she gets and dressing like a Brooklyn hooker if I was there every morning and evening? Would Ryan—”

  “Whoa, whoa,” Drew said. “You’re being way too hard on yourself. If you’re looking for ugly stepmothers, I can tell you stories about my grandfather’s second wife that’ll singe your eyebrows. I know what a cruel, uncaring woman does when she wants to hurt the ones she’s supposed to love.

  “You’re nothing like that, Sarah. You love your kids. You care about them. They’re happy and well-adjusted and—”

  Sarah abruptly braked and the Tahoe skidded into a snowbank at the side of the narrow dirt road.

  Drew saw her eyes had welled with tears and realized she could no longer see to drive. She stared straight ahead, her jaw clenched, her chin quivering.

  Drew pulled her fingers free of the wheel, pulled her close and settled his arms around her. “Sarah, Sarah,” he crooned. “Everything’s going to be all right.”

  She shoved her cold nose hard against his neck and said in a low, grating voice, “I don’t know if I can raise three kids all by myself. I’m a terrible mother. I—”

  “Stop right there,” he said, grasping her face with both hands and forcing her to look into his eyes. “I’ve seen abused kids. I was one,” he admitted, feeling his heartbeat rachet up at the admission he’d never made to anyone.

  She stared at him wide-eyed. “But you’re rich!”

  “Rich folks can brutalize their kids with the best of them,” he said. “In my case it was a stepgrandmother who did all the damage. I’m only telling you this because I’ve spent enough time with your kids to know there’s nothing abusive, emotionally or physically, about your relationship with them. Nate and Brooke and Ryan all love you. They all look to you for help when they need it. They trust you to be there for them.”

  “Thank you, Drew,” she said, leaning forward to press her forehead against his.

  They were nose to nose, their mouths a breath apart. It would have taken very little to close the distance. But he drew back. “You’re getting tears on my suit,” he said with a gentle smile. He wasn’t going to let himself kiss her. It was too damned dangerous. She was too damned attractive. And he wanted her too damned much.

  He had no intention of hanging around Jackson Hole, Wyoming, the rest of his life. He had places to go. Things to do—that is, once he figured out what they were.

  He let go of her and she eased back into the driver’s seat, brushing at the tears on her cheeks with the back of her hand.

  “I hate crying,” she said, swiping at her nose with her sleeve.

  “You’re beautiful when you cry.”

  She half-laughed, half-sobbed and said, “Now you’re lying.”

  He’d never meant anything more in his life. But it was better that she didn’t know that. “You okay to drive now?” he asked.

  She sniffed once and said, “Yeah,” then started up the Tahoe.

  They didn’t say another word the rest of the way to the main house at Forgotten Valley.

  “Come on in,” he said as he headed for the kitchen door. “I won’t be long. You can make us some coffee to take along. Coffee’s in the cupboard over the sink and the coffeemaker’s by the stove. I’ve got a thermos in the cupboard over the stove.”

  He hurried down the hall, afraid that if he stayed another minute in the kitchen he’d take her in his arms and never let her go.

  “If you don’t mind, I need to stop by and see my brother North before we go back to my place,” Libby said.

  “I’m sorry I’ve put you to so much trouble,” Jocelyn said.

  Libby snorted inelegantly. “You haven’t been any trouble at all. It’s that father of mine—and Clay’s father—who need an attitude readjustment.”

  Jocelyn smiled. “I must say that was an impressively terrifying battle of wills.”

  “You get used to it,” Libby said. “As far back as I can remember, my father’s always gotten his own way. If he wants something, he goes after it. Nine-and-a-half times out of ten, he gets it. Trouble is, he’s raised seven children, including me, who expect the same results when we want something. And cry bloody murder when we don’t get it.”

  Jocelyn laughed and eyed her askance.

  Libby figured the demure young woman was probably trying to decide whether she’d been using hyperbole. She might have exaggerated a little, but not much. Libby had grown up in a cutthroat, dog-eat-dog family where it was a way of life to fight for what you wanted and never to settle for less.

  Which was why Libby had defied her father and left home with her illegitimate daughter when she was eighteen. And why she hadn’t been satisfied with any other man, once she’d given her heart to Clay Blackthorne.

  Now it looked like she was going to lose Clay to yet another woman.

  Libby had watched Jocelyn Montrose when the graceful young woman greeted Clay in the courtroom and noticed Jocelyn’s whole demeanor had become soft and adoring. It was plain as the exquisite nose on the young woman’s face and the doting look in her amazing violet eyes, that Jocelyn was in love with her late sister’s husband.

  Libby had wanted to yank the other woman’s hair out.

  Which told her more than she wanted to know about her own highly irrational, emotionally immature—all right, ferociously jealous—feelings for the father of her child.

  The problem was, and always
had been, that Blackthornes were as used to getting their own way as Grayhawks. Once Clay had realized the depth of her betrayal all those years ago, he’d walked away from her and never looked back.

  Libby had tried hard to believe that there was more than one man in the world with whom she could be happy. She’d finally admitted, after breaking her engagement rather than marrying a second time, that she’d never committed her whole heart to either man she’d tried to love, because she hadn’t possessed a whole heart to give.

  Was she now supposed to step back and give Jocelyn Montrose the freedom to pursue the man Libby loved, had always loved, and would continue to love until the day she died?

  No. Hell, no. Absolutely, positively not. No self-respecting Grayhawk would concede the battle without a fight.

  But Libby had far too much on her plate as it was. Her first priority was finding her daughter. She was also determined to find out who’d framed Clay, and why. She didn’t have time right now to worry about the threat Jocelyn Montrose posed to her future happiness.

  But she couldn’t ignore the other woman, either.

  Libby had to believe that Kate would be found safe and sound, and that Clay would be cleared of the spurious charges against him. When that day finally came, she didn’t want Jocelyn Montrose waiting in the wings to entice Clay away. And she knew just the man to distract her rival.

  Her brother North.

  Since desperate situations required desperate measures, Libby had decided to kill two birds with one stone. She would simply take Jocelyn along when she went to see North to ask him what he knew about Niles Taylor. And introduce him to the violet-eyed woman.

  Libby had no illusions that North would settle down happily ever after with a woman like Jocelyn. She was far too delicate a hothouse flower to share the rugged life North lived on his Wyoming ranch. She would quickly wilt and die.

  But Jocelyn was exactly the sort of woman North took to his bed. Beautiful, big-bosomed and long-legged.

  North’s previous partners had also been overtly sexy. At first glance, Jocelyn didn’t seem to fit that description. Especially not with the way she kept her clothes buttoned up to the throat and her hair bound up in a French twist. But her loveliness would surely catch North’s eye.