Sheltered by the Cowboy

by Carla Cassidy

  She always bought a Christmas present for her mother and her brother. She’d wrap them and put them under her tree, and then a couple of days before Christmas she donated them to charity.

  While they were under her tree she’d remember her love for her mother and her older brother, and she’d mourn the fact that her family had fallen apart when Regina Wright had passed away after battling cancer.

  She rounded an aisle with her shopping cart and nearly bumped into Dillon Bowie and Cassie Peterson. “Hey, guys. Christmas shopping?”

  “Just getting some ideas,” Cassie replied. She leaned into Dillon with a happy smile. “He won’t tell me what he wants, so I’m trying to find out if anything we see sparks his interest.”

  “So far she’s told me at least a dozen things that she’d like to have,” Dillon replied with a teasing grin at the petite blonde next to him. “Besides, I keep telling her that I’ve got all I want. I have her.”

  “Ah, that’s so sweet,” Mandy replied. Dillon and Cassie were the newest happy couple in Bitterroot. Through all the drama that had taken place at the Holiday Ranch, they had come together in love. Mandy thought it was all wildly romantic.

  “Thank goodness most of the snow is gone,” Cassie said.

  “It definitely makes it easier to get around,” Mandy replied.

  “How’s the kissing booth going?” Cassie asked.

  “I think once it’s over Seth is going to be pleased with the money raised,” Mandy replied. “We have some generous people in this town.”

  “Bitterroot has always been a charitable town,” Cassie agreed.

  The three of them visited for just a few more minutes and then Mandy continued her quest for perfect Christmas gifts. By the time she made her way home, she’d bought a beautiful eternity scarf for her mother, a bottle of cologne for her brother and a black leather wallet for her father. He’d probably hate it, but at least she’d tried.

  She’d also picked up a pair of earrings in the shape of reindeer that lit up for Daisy. The flamboyant café owner would get a hoot out of them. With Mandy’s packages in a large shopping bag, she headed home.

  The studio apartment above the detached garage had originally been rented out to make extra money, but four years ago the last tenant had moved out and Mandy had convinced her father to rent it to her.

  It wasn’t huge, but there was a living room space with a sofa, a chair and a small kitchenette. There was still enough room left over for her queen-size bed shoved against a wall, a dresser and the bathroom.

  The Wright ranch was relatively large, with lots of good pasture and a wooded area with beautiful shade trees. But it had been years since her father had actually worked the ranch. Now he preferred either sitting in his recliner and complaining about his life, or heading to the Watering Hole, where he could try to drink away those complaints.

  As she prepared to wrap the silky scarf in shiny silver paper, her thoughts turned to her mother. Mandy had only a few memories of the woman who had given birth to her, and all of them were pleasant ones. Her mother had loved music and often sang as she cleaned or cooked. She had also been a beautiful woman and Mandy had been told by people in town that she looked just like her.

  Her brother, Graham, had been a terrific big brother until the day he’d left. At first she’d thought he’d come back to get her, but she’d given up on that belief years ago.

  By nine o’clock the tree was up on a small table in the living room area and all the presents were wrapped and under the tree. She sat on the sofa for a few minutes and admired the way the little white lights shone on the silver-and-red ornaments.

  Christmas could be a little depressing for her since most of the time she celebrated alone. But she always tried to focus on positive things to keep the blues away.

  With the tree up and the presents wrapped, she ate a chicken salad sandwich and changed into her pajamas. Finally she got into bed with her cell phone and considered calling Brody.

  It would be nice to end the pleasant night as she had the night before, with Brody’s deep voice the last sound she heard before falling asleep. She decided not to call him. She didn’t want to seem too forward and wind up pushing him away.

  She slept without dreams and awakened to the sound of her alarm. It was six fifteen. She would have loved to linger in bed, but her father was usually an early riser and liked his breakfast around seven.

  She showered and dressed in the yellow T-shirt and black slacks that were her café uniform, then grabbed her purse and headed toward the big two-story house in the distance.

  Over the past couple of years she’d tried to convince her father to sell the ranch and move closer to town. He didn’t need the land or the huge house, but he’d refused to consider it. She’d thought about moving into an apartment in town but knew her father depended on her rent money to help pay the bills.

  The eastern sky was just starting to light as she unlocked the back door and stepped into the large kitchen. The sound of the television drifting in from the living room let her know her father was already up.

  She shrugged off her coat and hung it on the back of a chair at the table, then moved to the coffee maker on the counter. Before greeting him she needed to get the coffee going. George Wright without his morning coffee was definitely an irritable bear.

  As she waited, she looked around the kitchen, remembering the old days when they sat at the table as a family, the old days when her mother had been alive and Graham had been home.

  When there was enough fresh brew, she filled a cup and left the kitchen. “Morning, Dad,” she said cheerfully as she entered the living room.

  She could see the back of his head above the black leather recliner chair that faced the television, but he didn’t answer her.

  Great, he wasn’t speaking to her...again. He was probably mad at her for going shopping the night before and leaving him to warm up his own dinner.

  “Dad?” She rounded the chair and froze in horror.

  Her father’s brown eyes stared blankly forward. His slashed throat gaped wide and blood had splashed down the front of him. There was no question that he was dead.

  “No.” The cup of coffee slipped from her hand and crashed to the hardwood floor as a scream released from her.

  * * *

  Brody lingered over a cup of coffee in the cowboy dining room, listening as Sawyer and Mac McBride discussed the weather and the forecast for a dryer winter than usual.

  If it had been springtime the men would already be out of here and doing morning chores in the field, but in winter the schedule was far more lax.

  Aside from providing feed and water for the cattle and taking care of the horses, they spent most of their time repairing and maintaining equipment.

  He tuned out their conversation and instead found himself thinking about Mandy. He’d been surprised when she’d called him two nights before just to chat. Brody didn’t just “chat” with anyone, but he’d found it impossible to remain stoic and distant with her. She was so bubbly and happy, and he found her remarkably easy to talk to.

  They’d discussed the people they knew and their love of the small town of Bitterroot. He’d told her about the latest movie he’d seen and she talked about how many people loved ketchup on their scrambled eggs.

  “Earth to Brody,” Sawyer said, pulling Brody out of his thoughts.

  “Sorry. What did you say?” Brody asked.

  “We want you to talk to Cassie about putting up a new shed first thing in the spring,” Mac said.

  “You know we had plans to replace the old one when we pulled down the storm-damaged one, but discovering those skeletons put everything on hold,” Sawyer added. “And as you also know, we need the extra storage space.”

  “We can’t do anything before spring, but I’ll mention it to her,” Brody rep
lied at the same time his cell phone rang.

  He frowned and dug it out of his pocket, surprised to see Mandy’s number. Why would she be calling him this early in the morning? He didn’t mind her calling him occasionally, but not during work hours. He excused himself, got up and walked away from the men at the table. He then answered.

  “Brody, my father is dead.” Her voice exploded over the line, a combination of horror and tears. “He’s...he’s in his chair and somebody murdered him...they slashed his throat and...and blood...there’s so much blood.”

  Every muscle in his body tensed. “Mandy, have you called Dillon?”

  “I... No, not yet.” There was a long moment of her weeping.

  “Mandy, call Dillon and when he arrives, don’t say anything to anyone and don’t touch anything. I’ll be right there.” Brody hung up and hurried over to Sawyer and Mac. “I’m heading out and I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

  “What’s going on?” Sawyer asked.

  “Mandy Wright’s father has been murdered.” Brody didn’t waste time saying another word. He hurried out the door and ran to the shed that held the cowboys’ personal vehicles.

  The cold air was biting, but not as cold as the thoughts that flew through his head. George Wright murdered? There was no way in hell Brody believed Mandy was responsible for her father’s death.

  Others would say she had opportunity and some would believe she had motive. Brody certainly wasn’t a lawyer, but she would be the first suspect unless the killer had left a specific calling card.

  He knew what it was like to be a suspect. He and all the other men who worked the Holiday Ranch had been suspects first in the seven murders that had taken place so long ago and then more recently when one of their own ranch hands had been murdered. It was easy to appear guilty of a crime even if you had nothing to do with it.

  He drove like a bat out of hell, the sound of Mandy’s horrified weeping echoing in his head. He never wanted to hear another woman crying with that kind of pain and terror.

  Terror... Oh God, was the murderer still in the house with her? Was she in danger right now? Damn, he should have told her to get out of the house.

  He slowed long enough to turn in to the long driveway that led to the Wright home. The morning sun shone bright on the white paint of the two-story house.

  He recognized both George’s and Mandy’s cars and realized he had beaten Dillon and his men to the scene of the crime. He parked and hurried out of the truck. He raced to the front door and knocked. It opened and Mandy flew into his arms.

  She buried her face in the crook of his neck as deep sobs wrenched through her. He held her tight and stroked her back in an effort to calm her.

  “It’s going to be okay, Mandy,” he murmured.

  “No, it’s not,” she cried. “He’s gone and now I’ll never have the chance to have a better relationship with him. Nothing is ever going to be okay again.” She cried even harder and there was nothing Brody could do to comfort her other than hold her while she wept.

  He was still holding her when Chief of Police Dillon Bowie arrived along with two other patrol cars and three of his men. As they parked and then approached the house, Brody finally released Mandy.

  “Brody,” Dillon greeted him with a touch of surprise in his gray eyes and then turned toward Mandy. “Where is he?”

  “In the family room,” Mandy replied and began to cry again.

  The four men went into the house, and Brody led Mandy through the small living room and into the kitchen. “Sit,” he said and gently pushed her down into one of the chairs at the table.

  He noticed the nearly full coffeepot on the counter and searched the cabinets until he found two mugs. He poured them each a cup and then sat next to her.

  Tears clung to her long lashes as she wrapped her fingers around the coffee mug. “I don’t believe this is happening.” She gazed up at him, her eyes dark and pain-filled. “Please tell me this is a nightmare and I’m going to wake up and everything will be fine.”

  “You know I can’t tell you that,” he replied with a gentleness he hadn’t even known he possessed.

  She stared down into the mug for several long minutes. The only sounds in the room were the low male voices drifting in from the family room.

  “Tell me what you did last night.”

  Once again she looked up at him, this time with a tiny frown line etched across her brow. “I worked at the café until about six and then went shopping. I got home about eight, wrapped some presents and went to bed.”

  “Alone?”

  He regretted the question the minute it left his lips. A flash of new pain radiated from her eyes. “Yes, alone,” she replied curtly.

  At that moment Dillon walked into the kitchen. “Mandy, I’m so sorry for your loss. We’re waiting now for Teddy to arrive. In the meantime, can I ask you a few questions?” Teddy was Ted Lymon, the medical examiner.

  Mandy nodded and Dillon sat in the chair opposite her. “Why would somebody do that to my father? Who would do something like this?” she asked, the words laced with pain.

  “That’s what I’m going to try to figure out,” Dillon replied. “Tell me exactly what happened this morning.”

  Mandy’s pale face and shaking fingers spoke of her despair as she told Dillon about getting up that morning, dressing and then coming into the house to fix her father breakfast.

  “Were any of the doors unlocked?” he asked.

  “I know the front door wasn’t because I used my key to get in, and I can see from here that the back door is still locked,” she replied.

  “I’ve got Ben looking at all the windows to check if entry was gained through one of them,” Dillon said.

  “Do you have an idea of the time of death?” Brody asked.

  “Teddy will have to make the official call, but I’d guess sometime in the middle of the night,” Dillon replied. “Which brings me to my next question. I know you were shopping yesterday evening, but what did you do after that?”

  “I came home and wrapped some presents...” she began.

  “And then I came over and spent the night with her.” Brody was grateful Mandy didn’t look as surprised as he felt as the alibi fell from his lips.

  Jeez, what had he just done?

  Chapter 4

  The next four days went by in a haze for Mandy. She made her father’s funeral arrangements and kept in close touch with Dillon about the progress of the investigation. She didn’t know how she would have gotten through it all without Brody as a calm and steady presence beside her.

  She’d been shocked when he’d told Dillon that he’d been with her on the night of her father’s murder. He’d gone even further and told the lawman to check with Fred Ferguson, who would attest to the fact that he and Mandy had also been together on the night of the snowstorm.

  She now stood at the front door of the house, waiting for Brody to pick her up for the funeral. It was a beautiful afternoon in the midforties. The sun shone brightly and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky.

  Grief had also been a big part of the time that had passed since her father’s murder. She wasn’t sure she grieved for the man himself as much as for the relationship she’d wanted—she’d needed—from him and now would have no opportunity to ever gain.

  There were still so many things she had to take care of. She’d been shocked to learn her father had a will on file with an attorney in town and he’d left her everything. In the event of her death her brother would be the beneficiary of what little estate there might be.

  Brody had advised her not to make any decisions about things until she’d given herself time to fully grieve, but she’d already decided to clear out the house and put it on the market to sell. She would move to someplace in town, maybe a small house where she could build a life that
didn’t include the memories of a father who had been so hateful, a man she’d desperately wanted to love her.

  She had no idea how many people might attend the funeral this afternoon. She’d been shocked in the last couple of days to realize how many people disliked her father. She knew how he’d treated her, but she hadn’t known that he’d carried that same hateful attitude outside the house.

  As Brody’s truck came up the lane toward the house, she couldn’t help the way her heart beat just a little faster. Although he hadn’t touched her in any way since the day she’d discovered her father dead, he’d been the best kind of friend she could ever ask for, and surely that was why her heart quickened at the sight of him.

  She turned and hurried to the kitchen to retrieve her purse from the table. By the time she returned to the front door, he was out of his truck and approaching the porch.

  Brody Booth in jeans and a flannel shirt was sexy, but Brody in a dark suit coat and slacks was off the charts. She stepped out on the porch, then closed and locked the door behind her.

  “Are you ready for this?” he asked as they walked to his truck.

  “I guess I’m as ready as I’m going to be. At least I’ve finally stopped crying all the time.”

  He opened the passenger door and she slid inside. The truck interior smelled like him...the pleasant scents of sunshine and the outdoors and his woodsy cologne.

  “What have you heard from Dillon?” he asked once he was in the truck and had started the engine.

  “He called me last night to ask if I knew anything about a pushing and shoving fight my father had last Saturday night at the Watering Hole.”

  “Who was he pushing and shoving with?”

  “Lloyd Green. Apparently Dad owed Lloyd some money and Lloyd tried to collect.”

  “So, did Dillon say that Lloyd was a suspect in the case?”

  “Dillon seems to be playing things close to the vest, but I would assume Lloyd is a suspect.” Lloyd worked for Raymond Humes, but that was about all she knew about the older man.

  They fell silent and she stared out the window at the barren winter landscape. What would happen after today? When the ceremony was over, would Brody go his own way?