Gun-Shy Bride

by B. J Daniels

  She shrugged. “When I know that, I’ll be back. Keep your lawyer’s number handy.”

  LUKE COULDN’T HELP BEING distracted as he filed his report on the poaching incidents. Seeing McCall Winchester again had thrown him, especially since her visit to his uncle this morning had looked official and that worried him.

  As he was hanging up from making his report, he got a call from a friend in the Helena Fish and Game office.

  “Something going on up there with your uncle Buzz?” his friend George asked. “A deputy by the name of McCall Winchester has been looking into some of Buzz’s old cases. You know anything about this?”

  Luke swore under his breath. “No, what cases are we talking about?”

  “Mostly those involving a Trace Winchester. Any relation to the deputy?”

  “Trace Winchester was her father. He disappeared before she was born almost thirty years ago.”

  “Probably not strange then that she’s looking into those cases,” George said. “She’s probably just curious. But there were quite a few tickets issued. Her father must have been a real troublemaker.”

  Luke wondered about that. He’d heard rumors about Trace Winchester but had figured the man’s exploits had been greatly exaggerated.

  “Apparently,” Luke agreed, his worry increasing. He’d thought Buzz was acting strangely this morning because of Eugene’s arrest and the gambling trouble. Now he wasn’t so sure.

  “I thought I’d let you know, anyway.”

  “I appreciate that.” He hung up, wondering what McCall had wanted with his uncle. Why, after all these years, would she be looking into some old fish and game violations against her father?

  More to the point, was she just fishing? Or had she caught something that could mean trouble for Buzz?

  MCCALL COULDN’T SHAKE OFF the feeling as she left that Buzz was lying about something. She’d definitely rattled him.

  While she was trying hard not to let her dislike of Buzz Crawford overly influence her one-woman unauthorized investigation, it was odd that he hadn’t confiscated her father’s hunting rifle. Odder still were some of his reactions.

  The missing rifle seemed the key, she thought as she saw Red Harper’s pickup parked in front of the Cowboy Bar.

  Red Harper, according to what she’d heard, had been her father’s former hunting buddy and best friend.

  Red was one of those people born into a family with money and a good name. His father owned several farm implement dealerships across the state and had left Red a large thriving ranch north of town.

  As McCall parked, she could see Red having an early lunch at the counter. If anyone would know what had been going on with her father the day he died, it should be his best friend.

  The smell of stale beer and floor cleaner hit her as McCall entered the dim bar. It was early enough that only a few of the regulars were occupying the stools along the bar.

  “Red,” she said by way of greeting as she neared his stool.

  He gave her a nod, already wary. She assumed it was the uniform. According to stories she’d heard, Red had been a lot like her father in his younger days, both from money, both unable to keep trouble from finding them.

  The difference was that Red had grown up.

  Trace Winchester never got the chance.

  “Buy you a beer?” she asked but didn’t give him time to answer as she motioned to the bartender to bring them two of whatever he was having.

  “Mind if we move over to a table?” she asked. “I’d like to talk with you.”

  He pushed away his plate, his burger finished, and got to his feet, although he didn’t look anxious to talk to her. “What’s this about?”

  She took a table away from the regulars at the bar and sat down. Red reluctantly joined her.

  “If this is about your mother and me—”

  “My mother?” McCall couldn’t help the surprise in her voice. Red Harper was one of the only men her mother’s age who hadn’t dated her after Trace had allegedly left town.

  McCall had always wondered why.

  “Your mother didn’t tell you I asked her out?”

  She shook her head. That too was strange. McCall had lived her mother’s ups and downs with men and was always the first to hear when a new man came into Ruby’s life—or left it.

  “Sorry, but no. Ruby can take care of herself.” If only that were true. McCall had seen her mother go through so many relationships that were obviously doomed from the beginning that she didn’t try to warn her off certain men anymore.

  McCall, though, couldn’t help but wonder why Red had decided to ask her mother out now.

  Their beers arrived. When the bartender left again, McCall picked up the frosty glass and took a sip of the icy cold beer.

  Red seemed to relax a little. “So what’s this about?”

  “I just wanted to ask you about my dad. You probably knew him better than anyone.”

  He nodded and picked up his drink. “There was no one like Trace.”

  “Is it true he was as wild as people say?”

  Red smiled, flushing a little. He was a handsome man with a full head of reddish-blond hair still free of gray, blue eyes and a great smile. McCall had always liked him.

  “There’s some truth to the stories.” Red chuckled ruefully. “He was a good guy, though. He just liked to do what he wanted. He and I were a lot alike that way.”

  She took another drink of her beer and waited for Red to continue.

  “He liked to fish and hunt and drink and chase women.” Red seemed to realize what he’d said and quickly added, “Well, until your mother.”

  McCall had caught his slip-up. Why hadn’t she thought that there might have been another woman in her father’s life?

  Ruby had been pregnant with McCall, wildly hormonal, according to her, and jealous as hell, if her other relationships were any indication.

  Her mother’s life was straight out of a country-and-western song. If there had been another woman in Trace Winchester’s life, McCall shuddered to think how far her mother might have gone to make sure no woman took her man.

  Red finished his beer in a hurry, realizing he’d messed up. “I’m sorry, but I have an appointment and really need to get going.”

  “Why haven’t you asked my mother out before now?”

  He looked startled by the question.

  “Trace has been gone for twenty-seven years,” she said.

  Red smiled ruefully. “Gone, but not forgotten.” He shook his head. “Couldn’t compete, not with her expecting him to come back at any moment.”

  McCall realized that Red had been competing with a ghost, even if he hadn’t known Trace was dead.

  “You’d be good for Ruby,” she said.

  He smiled at that. “Another strike against me. But thanks for saying so.”

  AS MCCALL CAME OUT of the bar, blinking at the bright sunlight, she found Luke Crawford leaning against his pickup, obviously waiting for her.

  “McCall,” he said with a tip of his hat.

  She realized at once that he’d gotten wind of her digging into Trace’s old arrests for poaching and other hunting violations.

  Not that she wasn’t surprised to see him.

  Was it always going to be like this? Her heart taking off just at the sight of him? Looking for him every time she came into town, afraid he would just appear as he had now and catch her off guard?

  He’d been gone for the past ten years—since they’d both graduated from high school. The ten years apart hadn’t changed how she felt. All the hurt, humiliation and heartbreak were still there at just the sight of him.

  “Been waitin’ long?” she asked.

  “Kind of early to be drinking,” Luke joked.

  She knew she must smell like the bar, a combination of old cigarette smoke and stale beer. Even with Montana bars going nonsmoking it would take years for the odor to go away inside some establishments.

  “You haven’t been waiting out here because
you’re worried about my drinking habits,” she said, realizing someone in the state Fish and Game Department had to have tipped him off.

  “This is awkward,” he said. “I heard that you’re looking into a few old poaching cases involving your father.”

  She bristled. While all law enforcement in this part of Montana helped each other when there was trouble, this was none of his business. “Do you have a problem with that?”

  “If you’re targeting my uncle for some reason it is.”

  Well, it was finally out in the open.

  “Why? Do you think he has something to hide?”

  Luke shook his head as if disgusted. She saw his jaw muscle tighten and realized he was trying to control his temper.

  “Look,” he said finally, “the trouble with our families was a long time ago—”

  “My father disappeared twenty-seven years ago—the day after your uncle ticketed him.”

  Luke blinked. “You’re blaming Buzz for your father skipping town? Buzz was just doing his job.”

  “Was he? I think Buzz Crawford’s reputation speaks for itself.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  She sighed. “Come on, Luke. You wouldn’t have been out here waiting for me if you weren’t worried that your uncle is guilty of something. You know Buzz. That’s why you’re concerned. That’s why my checking on some of his old arrests has you waiting outside a bar for me.”

  “Buzz took his job seriously. There is nothing wrong with that.”

  She met his gaze. His eyes were a warm deep brown, his thick hair dark, much like her own. Like her, he had some Native American ancestry in his blood.

  McCall remembered one time when a substitute grade school teacher had broken up a fight between Luke and another boy.

  “All right, you little Apache, knock it off,” the teacher had said, grabbing Luke by the scruff of his neck.

  “I’m Chippewa,” he’d said indignantly as she returned him to his seat.

  McCall had remembered the pride in his voice and felt guilty because she had never taken pride in her own ancestry. But how could she with a father like Trace Winchester, the man everyone believed had deserted his pregnant wife and unborn child? Not to mention her grandmother, who denied McCall’s very existence.

  “Look, I’ve always hated the hostility between our families,” Luke said now. “I don’t want to see it stirred up all over again.”

  She would have liked to have told him that this had nothing to do with whatever problems there’d been between the two of them—or their families, but she wasn’t sure of that.

  “I know my uncle can be difficult, but he took me in and raised me when my parents died. I owe him. If he’s in some kind of trouble…”

  “It’s sheriff’s department business.” The second time she’d lied today, but certainly not likely to be a record the way things were going. She started to step past him.

  He grabbed her arm. His fingers on her flesh were like a branding iron. She flinched and he immediately let go.

  “Sorry,” he said, holding up his hand as if in surrender.

  She said nothing, still stunned that Luke’s touch could have that effect on her after all these years.

  He took a step back, looking as shaken as she felt. Was it possible she wasn’t the only one who’d felt it?

  PEPPER WINCHESTER HADN’T been able to rest since McCall’s visit. She hated the way she felt, her fear making her weak. She hated feeling weak, and worse, no longer in control.

  “You should drink this,” Enid said, appearing with a tray. On it was a glass of juice. “It will make you feel better.”

  Pepper knew there would be something in the juice that would make all this go away for a while. She and Enid had never talked about the drugs the housekeeper had been slipping her over the past twenty-seven years.

  At first Pepper had been grateful, wanting to escape from her thoughts, her memories, the things she’d said and done, especially in regard to her son Trace.

  She took the glass from the tray and turned back to the window where she’d been standing when Enid had sneaked up on her.

  She’d never questioned why Enid drugged her. No doubt to make less work for herself and her husband, Alfred. Whatever Enid put into her juice had always knocked her out for at least twenty-four hours, sometimes more.

  It would have been so easy to down the juice and let herself surrender to that peaceful nothingness state.

  “I’ll drink it after I have a little something to eat,” Pepper said. “Perhaps a sandwich. Have we any turkey?”

  “I’ve got some ham.” Enid didn’t sound happy about having to go back to the kitchen to make a sandwich and bring it all the way back up. “You should have eaten the breakfast I made you.”

  That was another problem with the drugs Enid gave her. They had allowed the power to shift from boss to employee over the years. Enid acted as if this were her house.

  Turning to face her housekeeper, Pepper considered the elderly woman standing before her. Her first instinct was to fire her and her worthless husband. But she couldn’t bear the thought of having to hire strangers and she couldn’t go without help.

  “Why don’t I come down to the kitchen for the sandwich,” Pepper said. “It will save you the extra trip.”

  Enid studied her for a moment, looking a little uneasy. “Whatever you want. I’m just here to make sure you’re taken care of.”

  Yes, Pepper thought, wondering at how Enid had taken care of her and what she and her husband might have planned in the future. She realized she might not be safe. Especially if Enid thought for a moment that Pepper might ever reconcile with her children and grandchildren.

  While there was no chance of that, McCall’s visit might have the housekeeper and husband worried. Pepper saw now that she would have to be very careful from now on.

  Later she would pretend to drink the juice but surreptitiously pour it down the drain. While her hired help thought she was asleep perhaps she would do some sneaking around of her own.

  Chapter Six

  Determined to put Luke Crawford out of her mind, McCall concentrated on what Red had hinted at—that her father had a girlfriend. If anyone would have known, it was the woman her mother had worked with twenty-seven years ago.

  Patty Mason had been slinging hash as long as Ruby Bates Winchester. The two had worked together from the time they were teenagers until about the time McCall was born.

  Patty had gone to work at the Hi-Line Café and it was there that McCall found her after the lunch crowd had cleared out. Patty was the opposite of Ruby. While Ruby was skin and bone, Patty was round and plump with bulbous cheeks.

  She smiled as McCall came in and took a seat at one of the empty booths. “Just coffee, please, and if you have a minute, join me.”

  Patty glanced around the empty café and laughed before pouring two cups and bringing them to the table. She squeezed into the booth, kicked off her shoes, put her feet up on the seat and leaned back against the wall.

  “This is the first second I’ve had to put my aching dogs up all day,” Patty said, wiggling her toes. “So how you doin’, girl? How’s your mama? I never see her anymore. Hell, probably cuz we both work all the time.”

  “Ruby’s good.” As good as Ruby ever got, McCall thought.

  “She seeing anyone?” Patty was on her third marriage, this time to an elderly rancher. They had a place to the north of town on the road to Canada.

  “Red Harper.” This came as no surprise, McCall saw, since Patty would have already heard through the Whitehorse grapevine. McCall was the only one out of the loop apparently.

  “You know I always thought she and Red would end up together,” Patty said with a chuckle. “Sure has taken him long enough though, huh.”

  McCall’s thought exactly. “I was hoping you could help me with something,” she said, getting right to the point. “Were you working with Ruby the morning Trace disappeared?”

  Pat
ty slid her feet from the booth seat and sat up, blinking. “My goodness, girl, that was so long ago.”

  “Ruby said she was working the early shift.”

  “That’s right. You know I do remember. It was a crazy day. We got in a busload of Canadians down here for a whist tournament.” She frowned. “Wow, how many years ago was that now?”

  “Twenty-seven.”

  “My memory is better than I thought.” Patty grinned. “I remember because your mama came in late. I really had my hands full. I knew she was sick, being pregnant with you and all, but I was so mad at her.”

  “Did she say why she was late?” McCall asked.

  “She was all rattled, you know how she gets. It was plain as her face that she and Trace had had another fight. I wondered if she’d been to bed at all the night before, everything considered, you know?”

  McCall didn’t know. “Such as?”

  “Well…” Patty looked uncomfortable. “The way she looked. She’d been crying and that old pickup she drove…It was covered in mud. I asked her where the devil she’d been since your mama wasn’t one for driving much, especially on these roads around here when they’re wet.”

  McCall thought of the road into the ridge south of town. “And what did she say?”

  “Said Trace borrowed her truck.” Patty mugged a face. “I knew that wasn’t true. He never drove anything but that pretty new black Chevy his mama bought him as a bribe to leave Ruby. He took a perverse satisfaction into getting that truck dirty and staying with Ruby just to show his mama he couldn’t be bought.”

  McCall had wondered where Trace had gotten the pickup. Now she knew. Her dear grandmother.

  “So where do you think Ruby had been in her pickup?”

  Patty shook her head. “You could ask her.”

  “She gets upset talking about Trace.”

  “I suppose so. Well, just between you and me, I think she’d been out looking for Trace after a big, ol’ knockdown, drag-out fight,” Patty whispered, although there was no one to hear. “She was upset that whole day. I felt bad for her. One look at her and you knew something big had happened. I think your mama knew he wouldn’t be coming back.”