by B. J Daniels
McCall glanced at Grant, watching for any sign of life. None. Meeting Sandy’s gaze, she prepared herself to meet her maker. Sandy had nothing to lose now.
She had killed Grant. Now she had to kill McCall.
There would be no suicide note. No pretend suicide.
“It’s over, Sandy,” McCall said, knowing her only chance was to try to talk the woman down. “The killing has to stop. Trace is dead. Now Grant. I don’t know what happened on that ridge all those years ago with my father, but I do know that you didn’t mean to shoot Grant and I don’t believe you would have killed Trace if it hadn’t been for Grant being on that ridge with you that day.”
Sandy began to laugh. “You aren’t as smart as Grant thought you were. Grant wasn’t with me when I killed Trace.”
“Then who…”
“I wasn’t the only one who hated Trace.” Sandy spat out the words. “It wasn’t even my idea to get him on that ridge in sight of the Winchester ranch.” She smiled at McCall’s shock. “They say blood is thicker than water.” Sandy shook her head. “Not when it comes to sibling rivalry. Trace’s own flesh and blood wanted him dead. What does that say about your father?”
“You’re lying.”
“How different it would have been if Trace had married me,” Sandy said. “He would have changed,” she said with conviction, showing just how delusional she was.
For a moment, Sandy seemed to be lost in a daydream of what her life could have been like if she’d been the one to get Trace Winchester down the aisle. Her face softened as she steadied the gun with both hands to kill McCall, her eyes moist, a smile on her lips as if seeing herself beside Trace in the small white chapel on the edge of town.
That’s how she died.
McCall would later wonder if Sandy even felt the bullet that pierced her heart. Luke’s shot had been true. He’d fired at the same time he’d thrown McCall to the side. Sandy’s shot had burrowed into McCall’s front door in the exact spot where she’d been standing just an instant before.
It had been so close that she swore she felt it brush past. Luke had saved her life.
The realization came with tears as she’d looked over at him, the two of them lying on her living room floor. He’d mouthed the words. Or at least she thought he had, since the sound of the gunshot so close to her ear had made her think she’d gone deaf.
I love you.
And then she was in his arms, and he was holding her as if he would never let her go ever again.
Epilogue
There is nothing the community of Whitehorse loved more than a scandal—unless it was a scandal followed by talk of a wedding.
It took no time at all for everyone in the county and beyond to hear about what happened at Deputy Sheriff McCall Winchester’s cabin on the river.
Both McCall and Luke were considered heroes. It became clear that a lot of people hadn’t liked Sandy Sheridan, especially after it came out that she’d been running around with their husbands behind Grant’s back.
McCall had figured that was how Grant had ended up at her cabin. He’d been following Sandy, just as he’d been the other time she’d seen him, and was presumably aware of her transgressions. It was too bad, because McCall realized after the dust settled that Grant had loved Sandy or he would have killed her that night in the cabin—and not just wounded her.
How ironic that Sandy had passed up true love for what she thought she could have had with Trace Winchester.
The whole episode had shaken a lot of people, including McCall’s mother.
“I think I’m in love with Red,” Ruby had said a few days later. “Don’t worry. I’m going to take it slow. I just wanted you to know.”
McCall had been touched and had hugged her mother, hoping that she had finally found a man who would do her right. If anyone could be that man, it was Red Harper.
Ruby wasn’t the only one who’d been shaken by what had happened. When Luke had asked McCall to ride with him out to the house he was building, she’d been happy to go along.
He’d walked her through it, explaining what he’d planned in each room, and she saw at once that the house he’d been building was too large for one person.
“You were building this for us,” she said on a shaky breath.
He smiled, and she thought that he had to be the most handsome man in the world. Her heart began to beat faster as he reached in his pocket and, shoving back his cowboy hat, dropped to one knee.
“McCall Winchester, will you marry me?”
She’d been afraid of love since she was old enough to understand that her own father had run out on her and her pregnant mother. Falling for Luke at such a young age—and thinking he’d betrayed her—had made her more than a little gun-shy.
But when she looked into his eyes and saw the love, McCall knew there was only one thing she could say.
“Yes. Oh yes!” And she’d thrown herself into his arms, ready for whatever the future held.
She hadn’t been so sure about staying on at the sheriff’s department. Former sheriff Carter Jackson stepped in to help after Grant’s death and had asked her to stop by. He offered to reinstate her whenever she was ready to come back.
“I’m not sure I can come back as a deputy.” But not for the reasons the sheriff was probably thinking. It wasn’t her brush with death. It was not knowing for sure who’d been on that ridge the day her father had died.
With Sandy, Grant and Buzz all dead, she knew she might never know. She didn’t want to spend her life chasing after a killer. So what kind of deputy did that make her?
“Why don’t you give it some time,” Carter was saying. “Don’t make a decision now.”
Because she wasn’t her father, she nodded and said she would.
As she walked out of the sheriff’s department, she was asking herself, what now? when her grandmother called and asked to see her.
“Why?” McCall asked.
The question seemed to take Pepper aback for a moment. “Must you always be so difficult?”
Diplomacy kept McCall from answering that one.
“Isn’t it possible I just want to see you, perhaps congratulate you on your engagement?”
McCall drove out to the ranch, wondering if she could trust this change in her grandmother.
Maybe Pepper had found peace now that she believed Trace’s killer was dead. McCall had no intention of ever telling her any different.
McCall wanted to believe that Sandy had lied. Either way she knew what that would do to Pepper. She’d lost her family twenty-seven years ago.
Recently her grandmother had mentioned contacting her family and inviting them for a visit at the ranch.
The deputy in McCall noted that such a visit would mean the suspects would be back on the ranch.
“So when is the wedding?” her grandmother asked now on the other end of the phone.
“Christmas.”
“That’s a wonderful time for a wedding.”
A little worried about why her grandmother wanted to see her, McCall said she was on her way and hung up.
Pepper opened the door at her knock, thanked her for coming and ushered McCall into the parlor.
“Would you like something to drink? I could have Enid make us some lemonade or maybe there are some cookies around.”
McCall shook her head. Was her grandmother actually nervous? “Why don’t you just tell me why you wanted to see me.”
“Must you always be so outspoken?” Pepper demanded, then shook her head. “You remind me of myself.”
Clearly that was not a good thing.
Her grandmother glanced out the window toward the ridge across the ravine. It was lit with bright sunlight. McCall wondered how many times her grandmother had looked over there thinking about Trace, thinking that he’d been just across that narrow deep expanse all these years.
“I want you to return to the sheriff’s department.”
McCall blinked, surprised at her grandmother’s words as much
as her tone. “I beg your pardon?”
“You’re too good at your job to quit.”
McCall didn’t know what to say.
“I think you should run for the sheriff position,” Pepper continued.
“Sheriff? I’m afraid a woman deputy is as unorthodox as Whitehorse gets.”
“You might be surprised what is possible when you’re a Winchester.”
McCall laughed. “Quite frankly, having the Winchester name hasn’t really been an asset.”
Pepper actually looked ashamed. “You and your mother have been treated badly and I’m sorry for that.”
McCall stared at her, betting the farm that apologizing wasn’t something Pepper Winchester often did.
“I can understand if you say no, but I’d like to make the offer,” her grandmother said. “I would be honored if you would have your wedding here at the ranch and, if you’d not be offended, I’d like to pay for it.”
McCall was speechless for a moment. “That really isn’t—”
“Necessary. I know. It’s so little so late.”
As McCall looked into her grandmother’s dark eyes, so like her own, she willed herself to be careful before trusting her grandmother.
Still, when Pepper said the words, McCall couldn’t help the tears that rushed to her eyes or the sudden swell of her heart.
“I think your father would approve. After all, you are Trace’s daughter, my granddaughter and a Winchester.”
McCall finally felt as if that were true.
PEPPER’S ATTORNEY SOUNDED shocked to hear her voice, probably because it had been twenty-seven years since she’d called him.
“Mrs. Winchester.”
“Yes, Curtis, I’m still alive,” she said drily, though her lawyer sounded as if he had one foot in the grave. He’d retired years ago, turning his practice over to his nephew.
“I need you to do something for me. Not your nephew.”
“Of course.” He sounded resigned to whatever it was she wanted.
“Find my family. I want to see them.”
He made a surprised sound. “That’s wonderful, Pepper. Mending ties with your family is so important at this age. I know you won’t be sorry.”
She was already sorry and said as much.
“I want you to contact each of them—use your letterhead,” Pepper told the attorney. “I’ve written down what I want you to say on my behalf. Enid will deliver it tomorrow. Do you think you can handle that?”
“I would think this means you are writing a new will.”
“Don’t think, Curtis. Just do what I ask and make sure no one finds out the terms of my will until I’m gone.”
“Of course everything in your will is confidential. You and I are the only two people who know the terms.”
“Make sure it stays that way. You will let me know when you have the addresses and the letter ready to mail.” She hung up before he could offer any further pleasantries and reread the letter her lawyer would be mailing out.
She nodded to herself, pleased. It would bring her grandchildren back to the ranch. Of course it could also bring the others. She would deal with that when she had to.
What would all of them be like now? Either greedy or curious, she hoped, since the letter would lead them all to believe she was dying and about to divide up her fortune—but only to those who returned to the ranch as she requested.
That, she assured herself, would lure them all back to the Winchester Ranch where she would be waiting for them.
As she looked toward the rocky ridge in the distance, Pepper Winchester knew it was no coincidence that her son had been murdered in sight of the Winchester ranch.
Just as it was no coincidence that a pair of binoculars had been hidden in the third floor room.
As she watched the sun set over the Montana prairie, she swore on her son’s grave that once all her family was back on the ranch, she would find out who under this roof twenty-seven years ago had betrayed him. Then there would be hell to pay.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-5241-1
GUN-SHY BRIDE
Copyright © 2010 by Barbara Heinlein
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†Whitehorse, Montana
†Whitehorse, Montana
†Whitehorse, Montana
†Whitehorse, Montana
†Whitehorse, Montana
†Whitehorse, Montana
†Whitehorse, Montana
*Whitehorse, Montana: The Corbetts
*Whitehorse, Montana: The Corbetts
*Whitehorse, Montana: The Corbetts
*Whitehorse, Montana: The Corbetts
*Whitehorse, Montana: The Corbetts
**Whitehorse, Montana: Winchester Ranch
