B.J. Daniels the Cardwell Ranch Collection (8 page)

The snow stopped. Just like that. And the moment passed.

Dana pulled back, drowning in all the reasons she shouldn’t love this man—wouldn’t love this man. Not again.

H
UD SAW THE CHANGE
in her eyes. A quick cooling, as if her gaze had filmed over with ice. Just as her heart had five years ago.

She pulled away to pick up the shotgun from where she’d dropped it earlier. He watched her rise, keeping her back to him.

He got to his feet, searching the snow for his flashlight. His left arm ached from where he’d smacked it against one of the rocks embedded in the side of the well and split it open. The pain was nothing compared to what he’d seen in Dana’s eyes.

Maybe he couldn’t make up for what he’d done to her five years ago, but he sure as hell would find whoever had put the doll down the well. Whoever had tried to kill him tonight.

He heard a sound
from Dana, part cry, part gasp, and realized that she’d found his flashlight and was now shining it down into the well.

Stepping to her side, he took the light from her, seeing the shock on her face as well as the recognition. “It’s your doll?”

She nodded. “My father gave it to me for my sixth birthday. He thought it looked like me. How…” She met his gaze. “It was on a shelf in my old playroom along with the rest of toys Mom saved for her—” Dana’s voice broke “—grandchildren.”

Mary Cardwell hadn’t lived long enough to see any grandchildren be born. He could see what a huge hole losing her mother had left in Dana. Desperately he wanted to take her in his arms again. The need to protect her was so strong he felt sick with it.

He wanted to believe the doll had been put in the well as just a cruel prank meant to frighten her, but he feared it had been a trap. If Dana had come up here alone to investigate after seeing the light on the hillside, she would have been the one knocked into the well and there wouldn’t have been anyone here with a shotgun to scare the would-be killer away. The thought was like a knife to his heart but as he stepped past her, pulled the doll the rest of the way up and removed the noose from its neck, he told himself that Dana needed a marshal now more than she needed a former lover.

“When was the last time you saw the doll?” he asked. The doll’s hair was flattened with snow. Careful not to disturb any
fingerprints that might be on it, he brushed the snow away, shocked again how much the face resembled Dana’s.

“I don’t know. The toys have been on the shelves in the playroom for so long I hardly notice. I don’t go into that room much.” Another catch in her voice. The playroom would only remind her of her mother, he thought. “I’d forgotten about the doll.”

Well someone else hadn’t.

She shivered as if she’d had the same thought.

“Let’s get back to the house and out of this weather,” he said.

The sky over their heads was a deep, cold midnight blue as they walked back toward the ranch house. A few stars glittered like ice crystals as a sliver of moon peaked out from behind a cloud.

He made her wait on the porch, leaving her still armed with the reloaded shotgun while he searched the house. There was no sign that anyone had been there—not to drop off a box of chocolates or to steal a doll from a shelf in her old playroom.

“All clear,” he said, opening the front door.

She stepped in, breaking down the shotgun and removing the shells. He watched her put the shotgun by the door, pocket the shells and turn toward him again. “Let me see your arm,” she ordered.

He started to protest, but she was already helping him off with his jacket. His uniform shirt was also torn and bloodied though the cut in his upper arm didn’t look deep from what he could see.

“Come in here,” she said, and he followed
her to the kitchen where she motioned to a chair.

He sat, watching her as she brought out a first-aid kit. He rolled his shirt sleeve up as she sat next to him, all her attention on the three-inch gash in his arm.

“You shouldn’t have come up there, but I appreciate what you did,” he said, his voice hoarse with emotion. “You quite possibly saved my life tonight.”

“You should get stitches,” she said as if she hadn’t heard him. “Otherwise it will leave a scar.”

“It won’t be my first,” he said.

She mugged a disapproving face and said, “This is going to sting.” Her fingers gripped his upper arm.

He winced, the disinfectant burning into the cut.

“I warned you,” she said, glancing up into his face. “Sure you don’t want a ride to the emergency room?”

“Positive. A few butterfly bandages and I’ll be as good as new.”

She looked doubtful but went to work. He’d seen her doctor horses and cows before. He doubted doctoring him was any different for her. Except she liked the horses and cows better.

He couldn’t help but think about the kiss. Man, how he had missed her.

“There, that should at least keep it from getting infected,” she said, slamming the lid on her first aid kit and rising from the chair.

He touched her wrist and she met his gaze again. “Thanks.”

She nodded and went to put the kit away.

He rose from
the chair. “Mind if I take a look where that doll was kept?”

“I don’t see how—” She stopped, then shrugged as if she didn’t have the energy to argue.

He reminded himself that it was her birthday for a few more hours. What a lousy birthday.

He followed her up the stairs to what had once been her playroom. Mary had left it just as it had been when the kids were little.

The room was large with a table at its center surrounded by small chairs. There were books everywhere in the room and several huge toy boxes. The Cardwell kids had been blessed. One wall was filled with shelves and toys. There was a small tea set, stuffed animals, dolls and large trucks.

In the center, high on the wall, was a gaping hole where something had been removed. “That’s where she has always been,” Dana said, hugging herself as she stared at the empty spot on the shelf as if the realization that someone had to have come into the house and taken the doll had finally hit home.

“Who knew about the doll?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Only everyone who knew me. Angus probably showed it off at the bar for days before my sixth birthday. You know how he is.”

Hud nodded. Anyone in the canyon could have known about the doll. “But how many people knew where you kept it?”

“Anyone who ever visited when we were kids knew about the playroom,” she said.

“Or anyone in the family,” he said, not
liking what he was thinking.

“No one in my family would do this.” Her face fell the instant the denial was out. It was a blood instinct to take up for your brothers and sister. But clearly, Dana wasn’t entirely convinced her siblings were innocent of this.

She reached out for the doll he hadn’t even realized he’d carried up the stairs.

He held it back. “Sorry, it’s evidence. But I’ll make sure you get it back. I want to take the chocolates you received, too.”

She nodded, then turned and headed for the playroom doorway, moving like a sleepwalker. The day had obviously taken its toll on her. He looked around the room, then down at the doll in his gloved hand, thinking about Dana’s siblings before following her to the kitchen.

She opened the cabinet doors under the sink and pulled out the trash can. Their gazes met. She’d thrown the candy away believing it had come from him. He never thought he’d be thankful for that.

“Mind if I take the plastic bag and all?” he asked.

“Be my guest.”

“I could use another bag for the doll.”

She got him one. He lowered the doll inside and tightened the drawstring, then pulled the other trash bag with the present in it from the container.

“I’ll have the gift box dusted for prints and the candy tested,” he said.

Her eyes widened. “You think the chocolates might have been…poisoned?”

He shrugged, the gesture
hurting his arm.

The phone rang. She picked it up. He watched her face pale, her gaze darting to him, eyes suddenly huge.

He reached for the phone and she let him take it. But when he put the receiver to his ear, he heard only the dial tone. “Who was it?”

She shook her head. “Just a voice. A hoarse whisper. I didn’t recognize it.” She grabbed the back of the chair, her knuckles white.

“What did the caller say to you?” he asked, his stomach a hard knot.

“‘It should have been you in the bottom of that well.’”

Hud checked Caller ID and jotted down the number. He hit Star 69. The phone rang and rang and finally was answered.

“Yeah?” said a young male voice.

“What number have I reached?” Hud asked.

What sounded like a kid read the number on the phone back to him. Hud could hear traffic on the street and what sounded like skateboarders nearby. A pay phone near the covered skate park in Bozeman?

“Did you see someone just make a call from that phone?” he asked the boy.

“Nope. No one was around when I heard it ringing. Gotta go.” He hung up.

“I’m not leaving you alone in this house tonight,” Hud said to Dana as he replaced the receiver. “Either you’re coming with me or I’m staying here. What’s it going to be?”

“You look like you’ve seen better days,” Hilde said the next
morning when Dana walked into the shop. “I heard you were at the Corral. So you decided to celebrate your birthday after all.”

“Who told you I was at the Corral?” Dana hadn’t meant her tone to sound so accusing.

Hilde lifted a brow. “Lanny. I ran into him this morning at the convenience store.” She tilted her head toward the two coffee cups on the counter. “I brought you a latte. I thought you might need it.”

How had Lanny known that she was at the Corral last night? she wondered as she placed her purse behind the counter. “Thanks for the coffee. I really could use it.”

Hilde handed her one of the lattes. She held it in both hands, trying to soak up some of the heat. Lanny had also known that Hud was working late. With a shiver, she realized he’d been checking up on her. And Hud.

“Are you all right?” Hilde asked, looking concerned.

Dana shook her head. “I went by the Corral last night to talk to Dad, then Lanny
took me to dinner for my birthday.”

“Oh, you didn’t mention you were going out with Lanny.”

“I’d forgotten we had a date.”

Hilde gave her a look she recognized only too well.

“It was our
last
date. I’d hoped we could be friends….”

“I hate to say this, but it’s just as well,” Hilde said.

Dana couldn’t believe her ears.

Hilde raised her hands in surrender. “Hey, you were never going to fall in love with Lanny and we both know it.”

Dana started to protest, but saved her breath. It was true.

“Maybe Hud coming back was a good thing.”

Dana eyed her friend. “I beg your pardon?”

“I mean it. You need to resolve your issues with him.”

“Resolve my issues? He slept with my sister when we were engaged!”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe? There is no maybe about it. I caught them in bed together.”

“Going at it?”

“No.” Dana stepped back as if afraid she would ring her friend’s neck.

“That’s my point. You caught him in her bed, but you don’t know what happened. If anything. Stacy has always been jealous of you. I wouldn’t put anything past her.”

“And what ready excuse do you have for Hud?” She held up her hands. “No, that’s right, he was
drunk and didn’t know what he was doing.”

“I know it sounds clichéd—”

“It sounds like what it is, a lie. Even if Stacy threw herself at him. Even if he was falling-down drunk—”

“Which would mean nothing happened.”

Dana shook her head. “Hud wouldn’t have left town the way he did if he’d been innocent.”

“Did you ever give him a chance to explain?” Hilde asked.

“There was nothing that needed explaining. End of story.” She turned and walked to the back of the store, surprised how close she was to tears. Again.

A few moments later she heard Hilde come up behind her. “Sorry.”

Dana shook her head. “It’s just seeing him again. It brings it all back.”

“I know. I just hate to see you like this.”

Dana turned, biting her lip and nodding as tears spilled out.

Hilde pulled her into a hug. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe you should just kill the bastard. Maybe that’s the only way you’ll ever be free of him.”

Hilde was joking but Dana knew that even in death she would still be haunted by Hud Savage. And after last night, she knew she didn’t want him dead. Far from it.

She dried her tears and said, “Hud spent the night at my place last night.”

Her friend’s eyebrows shot up. “No way.”

“He slept on the couch.” She practically groaned at the memory of Hud’s bare chest when she’d gone downstairs
earlier. The quilt she’d given him down around his waist. His bare skin tanned from living in Southern California. Muscled from working out.

“Dana, what’s going on?”

She shook off the image and took a sip of the latte. It was wonderful. Just like her friend. “It’s a long story.” She filled Hilde in on what had happened last night. “That’s why I look like I didn’t get any sleep. I didn’t.” She shook her head. “Hilde, I can’t understand why anyone would do those things.”

“This voice on the phone, was it a man or a woman?”

“I don’t know. It was obviously disguised.” She shivered and took another drink of the coffee. It warmed her from her throat to her toes and she began to relax a little. In the daylight, she wasn’t quite so scared. “You know what bothers me the most is that whoever put that doll in the well had to have taken it from the house. Just like whoever left the chocolates.”

“Everyone knows you never lock your doors,” Hilde said.

“I do now. I just can’t understand why I’m being threatened. It has to have something to do with the woman whose remains were found in the well.”

There was a soft knock on the door and both women turned to see their first customer—Kitty Randolph—looking at her watch.

“She’s early but we’re going to have to let her in, huh,” Hilde said with a laugh. “You sure you’re up to this today?”

“I would go crazy
if I stayed home, believe me,” Dana said as she started toward the door to unlock it and put up the Open sign. “Good morning, Mrs. Randolph.”

“Dana,” the older woman said, then added, “Hilde,” by way of greeting. Kitty Randolph was a petite gray-haired woman with a round cheery face and bright blue eyes.

“I was going to get back to you about the fund-raiser,” Dana said, instantly feeling guilty for not doing so.

Kitty patted her hand with a cool wrinkled one of her own. “Now, dear, don’t you worry about that. I know something dreadful happened out at the ranch. You must tell me all about it while you match this color thread.” She pulled the leg of a pair of blue slacks from a bag hooked on her arm. “I need to raise the hem. I hate it, but I’m shrinking and getting shorter every day.” She chuckled. “Now what’s this about a body being in the well?” she asked conspiratorially as she took Dana’s arm and steered her toward the thread rack.

Dana picked up several spools of thread and held them to the pants in Kitty Randolph’s bag.

She gave the elderly woman a short version of the discovery in the well.

“Any idea who she was?” Kitty asked.

Dana shook her head. “We might never know.”

Kitty purchased her thread and left, promising to bring some of her wonderful chocolate chip cookies the next time she stopped by.

A
RMED WITH PHOTOGRAPHS
and information
about the emerald ring found in the well, Hud drove to Bozeman first thing.

The jewelry store was one of those small, exclusive shops on Main Street. Hud tapped at the door just over the Closed sign and a fit-looking, gray-haired man unlocked the door.

“Marshal Savage,” the jeweler said, extending his hand. “You made good time.”

Hud handed him the photographs and information taken from the ring.

“Oh yes,” Brad Andrews said as he examined the photos. “I remember this ring very well. A one-carat emerald set in a pear-shape with two half-carat diamonds on each side. A beautiful ring. Something you would notice a woman wearing.” He looked up, still nodding.

“You can tell me who purchased the ring?” Hud asked.

“Of course. I remember this ring well. It was a twenty-fifth anniversary present. Judge Randolph purchased it for his wife, Kitty.”

A
S
K
ITTY
R
ANDOLPH LEFT
Needles and Pins, several other ladies from the canyon entered the shop, also using the excuse of needing fabric or patterns or thread when they were really just interested in the latest goings on at the Cardwell Ranch.

Dana could see how her day was going to go, but better here than being at the ranch. Especially alone.

At least that’s what she thought until the bell over the door at Needles and Pins jangled
and the last person she wanted to see came through the door.

Dana looked up from the fabric she was pricing and swore under her breath. Hilde had gone to the post office to mail a special fabric order so Dana was alone with no place to run as her sister Stacy stepped into the shop.

Stacy glanced around, looking almost afraid as she moved slowly to the counter and Dana.

Dana waited, wondering what her sister was doing here. Stacy didn’t sew and, as far as Dana knew, had never been in the store before.

Stacy was two years her senior, with the same dark hair, the same dark eyes, and that was where the similarities ended. Stacy was willowy-thin, a true beauty and all girl. She’d never been a tomboy like Dana, just the opposite. Stacy had hated growing up on the ranch, wanting even from a very young age to live on a street in town that had sidewalks. “I never want to smell cow manure again,” she’d said when she’d left home at eighteen. “And I will
never
marry a cowboy.”

Dana always thought Stacy should have been more specific about the type of man she would marry. She’d married at nineteen, divorced at twenty-two, married again at twenty-four, divorced at twenty-nine, married again at thirty-two and divorced. None of them were cowboys.

“Hi, Dana,” Stacy said quietly.

“Is there something I can help you with?” Dana asked in her storeowner tone.

Stacy flushed. “I…no…that is I don’t want to buy anything.” She clutched her purse, her fingers
working the expensive leather. “I just wanted to talk to you.”

Dana hadn’t seen Stacy since their mother’s funeral and they hadn’t spoken then. Nor did she want to speak to her now. “I don’t think we have anything to talk about.”

“Jordan asked me to stop by,” Stacy said, looking very uncomfortable.

Jordan. Perfect. “He didn’t have the guts to do it himself?”

Stacy sighed.
“Dana.”

“What is it Jordan couldn’t ask me?” She hated to think what it would be since her brother hadn’t seemed to have any trouble making demands of her yesterday on the phone.

“He would like us all to get together and talk at the ranch this evening,” Stacy said.

“About what?” As if she didn’t know, but she wanted to hear Stacy say it. So far Jordan had been the one who’d spoken for both Clay and Stacy. Not that Dana doubted the three were in agreement. Especially when it came to money.

But Stacy ignored the question. “We’re all going to be there at seven, even Clay,” Stacy continued as if she’d memorized her spiel and just had to get the words out.

That was so like Jordan to not ask if it was convenient for Dana. She wanted to tell her sister that she was busy and that Jordan would have to have his family meeting somewhere else—and without her.

Stacy looked down at her purse. Her fingers were still working the
leather nervously. As she slowly lifted her gaze, she said, “I was hoping you and I could talk sometime. I know now isn’t good.” Her eyes filled with tears and for a moment Dana thought her sister might cry.

The tears would have been wasted on Dana. “Now definitely isn’t good.” She’d gotten by for five years without talking to Stacy. Recently, she’d added her brothers to that list. Most of the time, she felt she could go the rest of her life without even seeing or hearing from them.

Stacy seemed to be searching her face. Of course, her sister would have heard Hud was back in town. For all Dana knew, Hud might even have tried to see Stacy. The thought curdled her stomach. She felt her skin heat.

“Mother came by to see me before she died,” Stacy said abruptly.

It was the last thing Dana expected her sister to say. A lump instantly formed in her throat. “I don’t want to hear this.” But she didn’t move.

“I promised her I would try to make things right between us,” Stacy said, her voice breaking.

“And how would you do that?”

The bell over the door of the shop jangled. Kitty Randolph again. “This blue still isn’t quite right,” the older woman said, eyeing Stacy, then Dana, her nose for news practically twitching.

“Let me see what else we have,” Dana said, coming out from behind the counter.

“I hope I didn’t interrupt anything,” Mrs. Randolph said, stealing a look at Stacy who was
still standing at the counter.

“No, Mrs. Randolph, your timing was perfect,” Dana said, turning her back on her sister as she went to the thread display and began to look through the blues. She’d already picked the perfect shade for the slacks, but pretended to look again.

She suspected that Kitty had seen Stacy come into the shop and was only using the thread color as an excuse to see what was going on.

“How about this one, Mrs. Randolph?” Dana asked, holding up the thread the woman had already purchased.

“That looks more like it. But please, call me Kitty. You remind me so much of your mother, dear.”

Dana caught a glimpse of Stacy. Her face seemed even paler than before. She stumbled to the door and practically ran to her car. Unfortunately, Mrs. Randolph witnessed Stacy’s hasty exit.

“Is your sister all right? She seems upset,” Kitty said.

“Who wouldn’t be upset after a body’s been found in the family well,” Dana said.

“Yes, who isn’t upset about that,” Kitty Randolph said, watching Stacy drive away.

Dana sighed, feeling guilty and then angry with herself for only upsetting her sister worse. But dammit, she had every reason to hate her sister.

She could practically hear her mother’s voice filled with disapproval. “Families stick together. It isn’t always easy. Everyone makes mistakes. Dana, you have to find forgiveness in your heart. If not for them, for yourself.”

Well, Mom, now all three of
them have banned together against me. So much for family.

And there was no getting out of the family meeting—or probably having to listen to her sister say she was sorry again. She just hoped Stacy didn’t think that saying she was sorry over and over was going to fix things between them. Not even when hell froze over.

Sorry, Mom
.

W
HEN
H
UD RETURNED
to his office, he had a message to call Coroner Rupert Milligan.

“Got an ID on your woman from the well,” Rupert said, then cleared his throat. “It’s Ginger Adams.”

Hud had to sit down. He moved the files stacked on his chair and dropped into it.