Rugged Defender

“Charming,” TJ said as she pulled on her hairnet and the plastic gloves she would be wearing while handing out buns.

“I never understood what Justin saw in her,” Annabelle said.

Chloe watched her go into the dish room. “They were a lot alike. Both on the outside looking in.”

“Alike? Nici from one of the poorest families and Justin from one of the wealthiest? He comes from one of the largest ranches around here,” Annabelle said. “His family was rich compared to most and his father still is.”

“I doubt Bert Calhoun would feel that way,” TJ said. “He lost his wife at a young age and apparently now he’s lost both sons.”

“You know what I mean,” Annabelle said. “Wealth-wise.”

“But Justin always felt as if he didn’t matter,” Chloe said. “I would imagine Nici felt the same way.”

Edna began barking orders so they went to work, but Chloe couldn’t help thinking about Justin and what she’d learned had happened to him and his family after she’d left. She knew that he and his older brother hadn’t gotten along, but she refused to believe Justin had anything to do with Drew’s death.

* * *

IT DIDN’T TAKE Justin long to pack. Quitting his job hadn’t been that hard either. Saddle tramps like him were a dime a dozen. The rancher would be able to pick up help easily before calving season when he really would need it.

After throwing everything into his pickup, he slid behind the wheel wondering why he hadn’t done this sooner. The reason was staring him in the face. He hadn’t wanted to know the truth about his brother’s death. It had been easier to run away.

He sighed as he started the truck and pointed it west. Why now? It was the question that had been nagging at him all morning. Tell me this isn’t about some kiss that was so long ago it was like another world.

Justin laughed to himself as he left the dirt road and hit the two-lane blacktop. Hearing Chloe’s voice had brought it all back. Those few weeks of happiness before his life had gone to hell in a handbasket. Maybe he was trying to relive those moments—as crazy as it sounded. He was too much of a realist to think he could.

But he’d been hiding out from the past for too long. He was going home—to all that entailed. Just the thought of seeing his father set his teeth on edge. But he was no longer afraid of the past. It was the truth that woke him in a cold sweat in the middle of the night. What had happened the day his brother was killed?

* * *

“GRANDMOTHER WOULD BE so proud,” Annabelle said as they tossed their hairnets in the trash, pulled on their coats and left the now-clean soup kitchen.

“You’re being awfully quiet,” TJ said as Chloe climbed into the back seat of Annabelle’s SUV and TJ took shotgun. She turned in her seat to look back at her. “Are you angry with me for calling Justin?”

“No. It was nice talking to him. But that ship sailed a long time ago.”

“Don’t say that,” Annabelle cut in as she slid behind the wheel and started the motor. “Look at me and Dawson. I left him even when he worked so hard to buy me an engagement ring and roses to ask me to marry him. I thought he’d never forgive me. He said I broke his heart.” Her voice cracked with emotion and tears flooded her blue eyes. “But we found our way back to each other.”

“I wonder why Justin didn’t marry Nici,” Chloe said.

“Who knows if they were even really engaged,” Annabelle said and scoffed. “That’s just what Nici said after they broke up. As far as I know that’s as close as she’s gotten to marriage.”

“Maybe she spends too much time in jail,” TJ joked.

“You two have certainly gotten caught up on local gossip,” Chloe said. Thinking of Nici made her uncomfortable. The woman was her own worst enemy. But weren’t they all that way sometimes?

“So are you going to tell us what is going on with you?” TJ asked as she buckled her seat belt and looked at Chloe in her side mirror.

“Why?” Annabelle said. “What’s going on with Chloe?” She shot a questioning look in the rearview mirror at her oldest sister.

“I lost my job,” Chloe said, glad to have the secret out.

“What do you mean you ‘lost it’?” TJ said.

“I was laid off with a bunch of others.” She looked out the window as Annabelle drove through the small western town of Whitehorse. It wasn’t that long ago that she was here for her grandmother’s funeral. Before that, she’d seldom returned except for quick visits. Like her sisters she’d wanted to conquer the world—far from Whitehorse, Montana.

Annabelle had become a supermodel with her face on the covers of magazines—until recently giving it up to be with her old high school boyfriend, rancher Dawson Rogers. The two were perfect for each other. Chloe wondered why it had taken her sister so long to realize it.

As for TJ, she’d become a New York Times bestselling author who also only recently left the big city life after falling in love. She now lived in a tiny cabin in the woods until she and her fiancé could get a larger place built up in the Little Rockies.

Chloe had become an investigative journalist and had worked her way up through bigger papers until she’d found herself working for one of the largest in Southern California. But with the way print newspapers were going recently, she’d been laid off with a dozen others and the thought of looking for another newspaper job... She said as much to her sisters.

“I’m so sorry,” Annabelle said. “What are you going to do?”

Chloe let out a bark of a laugh. “I have no idea. I have enough money saved that I don’t have to worry about it for a while.”

“You can stay in grandmother’s house as long as you want,” Annabelle said.

Grandmother’s house. She had to smile at that. Their grandmother Frannie had left the house to only Annabelle, which had caused friction between them but ultimately brought them together.

“It’s funny how things work out,” she said as her sister pulled up in front of the house in question. Annabelle, with help from friends, had refurbished the house. It did have a feeling of home, Chloe had to admit, since the three of them were raised in this house. It was a large two-story with four bedrooms, two up and two down. It sat among large old cottonwoods and backed to the Milk River in an area affectionately called “Millionaire’s Row.”

Not that any houses in Whitehorse were even close to a million. The homes were conservative like the rural people who lived in the area. And right now, Chloe had to admit, the town looked almost charming with its mantle of fresh snow and holiday lights.

“Would you mind if I borrowed your SUV?” Chloe asked as her sister pulled up into the driveway of their grandmother’s house. “There’s somewhere I need to go.”

* * *

JUSTIN DROVE ACROSS eastern Montana trying to imagine the rolling prairie landscape when thousands of buffalo roamed the area. Unfortunately, they’d all been killed off. He’d seen photos of their bones stacked in huge piles next to the railroad at Whitehorse.

His great-great-grandfather had been on one of the original cattle drives that brought longhorns to the area from Texas. He’d heard about how lush the grass was back then. His father’s family had settled the land, giving birth to the Calhoun Cattle Company. He still got a lump in this throat when he thought about his legacy.

It hadn’t been easy to give it up and simply walk away. Kind of like ripping out his heart. He loved the land, the ranch history, the feeling of being a part of something bigger than himself. He’d always felt more of a kinship with the ranch than his brother had—not that their father noticed.

So he’d left, since his heart had already been decimated over his brother’s death—and his father’s accusations. Now all that grief and regret had settled in his chest like a weight he couldn’t throw off. Five years had done little to lessen the pain. But he had grown up in that time. He was his own man now, something he could have never been with his older brother constantly reminding him that he was the little brother, the one his father didn’t put his faith or his love into.

By early afternoon he looked up to see Whitehorse, the tall grain bins next to the railroad silhouetted against the winter sky. He slowed his pickup, wanting to take it all in. Memories, both good and bad, assailed him. Home.

He took a deep breath, telling himself he was going to settle things once and for all, starting with the people he’d hurt.

* * *

THE MILK RIVER COURIER, the town’s only newspaper, was lodged in a small brick building along the main road. Chloe felt a rush of excitement as she pushed open the door. Being an investigative reporter was in her blood. She loved digging for information and couldn’t wait to get into the newspaper’s archives.

The smell of ink and paper filled her nostrils, the sound of clicking keyboards like music to her ears. It was early in the week so the small staff was busy trying to put together the weekly edition. She was led to the archives where she settled in, determined to find out what she could.

Chloe reread the first story about Andrew “Drew” Calhoun’s death. It was short and clearly had little more information in it than what she’d found on the sheriff’s blog that had also run in the paper.

Drew was found dead at 11:22 p.m. on that Saturday night. He’d been shot. It was unclear by whom. He was pronounced dead by the coroner at the scene. The investigation was continuing.

She read through what few stories followed, realizing that no one from the paper had gotten anywhere if they’d even tried to investigate the death. This was a small town and Bert Calhoun was a wealthy rancher. The paper had let the story die. It didn’t take long to realize little information had become public. The small weekly printed what was called the cop reports, but didn’t dig any deeper so skimmed only the surface of the news.

Chloe didn’t blame the staff. She understood, because even with larger newspapers there were some situations that were touchy. She’d always had trouble treading lightly. Like now. She wanted answers and she realized there was only one place to go. She couldn’t bear the idea that Justin had been blamed for his brother’s death—even if he’d never been arrested for it. She had to know the truth. It was inherent in her DNA. And this was Justin. The cowboy she’d shared that one amazing winter kiss with all those years ago. A girl didn’t forget things like that.

* * *

JUSTIN FOUND THE Kent house without any trouble. It was a large old three-story wooden structure that needed paint and the porch fixed. It looked exactly as he remembered it.

He had no idea if Nicole even still lived in Whitehorse. He’d made a point of not keeping in touch with anyone from home. As he walked up the unshoveled, snow-packed walk to the door, he saw a faded curtain twitch. The door was opened before he even reached it.

“I guess it’s a day for surprises,” Nici said as she leaned against the doorjamb. “What are you doing back here?”

“It’s good to see you too, Nici.” She hadn’t changed from her dyed black hair to her belligerent attitude. He had to smile. “Buy you a coffee?”

“Make it a beer and you’re on.”

The last place he wanted to go was a bar where he might be recognized. He pulled into the local convenience store, ran in and came back out with a six-pack.

“Maybe you haven’t heard, but Montana has an open container law,” she said as he handed her the beer.

“Then you’d better not open one until we reach the lake,” he said and started the truck.

She immediately opened a beer, just as he knew she would. They said little on the drive out to Nelson Reservoir. He and Nici used to come out here all the time at night in the summer. He would be tired from working the ranch all day under his father’s unrelenting supervision. He’d need to unwind and Nici was always up for it.

“Remember swimming naked out here late at night?” Nici asked as he parked at the edge of the boat ramp and turned off the engine. She was holding the beer can, looking out at the frozen expanse of cold white.

“Doesn’t look too appealing at the moment,” he commented and she handed him a beer. He settled back in the seat, opened the can and took a drink. It almost felt like old times.

“What are you doing here?” Nici asked, sounding worried about him.

He turned to look at her and smiled. “I’ve come home to face the music.”

“You didn’t kill Drew.”

Justin said nothing as he took another drink and turned his attention again to a more pleasant memory from the past. “Remember that one night we got caught out here by that camper?”

Nici chuckled. “Apparently the man had never been young. Either that or he didn’t like his teenage sons ogling me as I came out of the water bare-assed naked.”

He laughed. “You always liked shocking people.”

“Still do.” She glanced over at him. “Did you think I might have changed?”

Justin turned a little in his seat. His gaze softened as he looked at her. “I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

Nici huffed. “You join AA or something? If this is about making amends—”

“I’m serious. I know you hoped that things were more serious between us...”

She took a long drink of her beer without looking at him.

“You were my best friend. Hell, my only female friend.”

“But not good enough to marry.” When she turned to look at him there were tears in her dark eyes. She made an angry swipe at them, finished her beer and pulled another can free of the plastic holder.

“I loved you. I still do.”

Nici stopped and looked over at him.

“I still think of you as my best girl friend.” He smiled. “I’ve often wondered what kind of trouble you’ve been into back here in Montana. I’ve missed you.”

She stared at him. “You make it hard to hate you.”

“Good.” He touched her shoulder. “I feel like I left you high and dry. I didn’t mean to do that.”

“You married Margie.” She made it sound like an accusation.

“I know. A mistake. I ended up hurting her too.” He shook his head. “I did a lot of things I’m not proud of. That’s why I’m back.”

“To make amends.”

“To straighten out a few things,” he said. “I can’t undo anything I’ve done. All I can do is say I’m sorry. So how have you been?”

She laughed. “Not great. I spent the morning doing community service. Don’t ask.” He saw that it was hard for her to admit it. “I should have gone to college or gotten a job. I should have left Whitehorse.”

“It’s not too late.”

“Isn’t it?”

“No. So what’s keeping you here?” he asked. “A man?”

Nici shook her head. “Inertia. I guess I just needed someone to give me a swift kick to get me moving.”

“Consider this your kick.” They drank their beer for a moment, both lost in their own thoughts. “There’s something I need to ask you,” he finally said.

“About me and Drew.” She shook her head and looked way. “I knew that was coming.” Her dark eyes filled with hurt and anger. “I didn’t shoot him.”

“But you were at the ranch that night.”

She didn’t deny it. “Drew was a bastard, but I suspect you already know that.”

“What happened that night?”

Nici sighed and looked away. “Why are you just now asking me this?”

“Because I have to know. I should have asked five years ago.”

“What do you think happened?” she snapped. “I knew why Drew called me. It was nothing more than a booty call.” She turned to stare him down. “I knew he was just doing it to hurt you, but I didn’t care. You were breaking my heart. You think I didn’t know that you were never going to marry me?”

Justin felt as if she’d thrust a knife into his chest. “I’m sorry. You meant so much to me—”

“Just not enough.” She licked her lips, her throat working for a moment. “That’s the story of my life. I’ve never felt like enough.”

“I know that feeling.”

She continued as if she hadn’t heard him. “I’ve let men use me...” Her voice broke.

The pickup cab filled with a heavy silence. Outside the wind picked up and began to lift the new snow into the air.

“I hate that you feel I was one of those men.”

She looked over at him, her gaze softening. “I wanted more so I was angry, but I never felt that way about...us.”

He finally asked, “So you met him that night out at the ranch.”

She nodded solemnly. “It was just as I thought. He got what he wanted and told me to leave.”

Justin had been in the horse barn when he’d heard the shots and looked out. He’d seen her drive away. He’d run to his brother’s cabin some distance from the main house and found him. Only minutes later his father burst in to find him holding the gun. He’d always wondered if Bert Calhoun had seen Nici driving away and never said anything.

Justin had kept his mouth shut as well, covering for her. He’d never told anyone—not even the sheriff. “Did you see anyone else? Or did Drew mention anything that might have been going on with him?” For a moment, he thought she wasn’t going to answer.

“Before I left, he got a call. He stepped outside the cabin to take it. He seemed upset and even more in a hurry for me to leave.”

“You don’t know who it was from?” Justin asked.

Nici shook her head. “It was a woman—I know that. Drew didn’t say much on the phone, but the way he said it... Why did you never tell anyone about seeing me that night?”

He shrugged. “You’d already been in trouble with the law. I was afraid...” He didn’t finish the sentence.

Nici reached over and touched his arm. “I didn’t shoot him. I would have gone to the sheriff if I’d known that everyone would think you did.”

“It wouldn’t have done any good,” he said. “Even you can’t be sure I didn’t kill him.”

She studied him for a long moment. “If I’d been you, I would have killed him. Only I wouldn’t have stopped firing until the gun was empty. He deserved so much worse.”

Chapter Three

Justin drove out to the Rogers Ranch. Dawson was a couple years younger. They’d grown up just down the road from each other. Of all the people he’d known, Justin trusted Dawson the most since they’d been friends since they were kids.

As he drove up into his old friend’s yard, Dawson came out of the barn wiping his hands on a rag. Past him, Justin could see an old tractor with some of its parts lying on a bench nearby.

“You still trying to get that thing running?” he said as he got out of his truck and approached the rancher.

Dawson wiped his right hand on his canvas pants and extended it. They shook hands both smiling at each other. “I swear that tractor is going to be the end of me,” he said, glancing toward the barn. “I know I should get rid of it but we’re like old friends.” His gaze came back to Justin. “Speaking of old friends...”

Justin took a breath and let it out before he said. “I needed to come back and take care of a few things.”

Dawson nodded. “You need a place to stay?”

“I’d appreciate it. I could stay at the hotel in town but—”

“No reason to. You know you’re welcome here. I have a guest room in the house.”

“I’d prefer the bunkhouse if you don’t mind.”

Dawson seemed to study him for a moment. “I was just headed up to the main house. If my mother heard you were staying here and she didn’t get to see you, she’d skin me alive.”

Justin laughed and shook his head. “Worse, she’d skin me alive.”

“Why don’t we hop into my pickup?” his friend suggested. “I want to hear all about where you’ve been and what you’ve been doing.”

“Wish it was worth telling. Let’s just say I’ve been on the run, but I’m back.”

“To stay?” Dawson asked.

“Hard to say.”

Dawson slapped him on the shoulder as they neared his truck. “Well, I hope you’re home for good. How long have you been in town?”

“Just got in earlier.”

“Well, then you haven’t heard. Annabelle Clementine and I are engaged.”

“No kidding,” Justin said. “Congratulations. I’m glad to hear that. I always thought you and Annabelle belonged together. I heard her sister Chloe’s here for the holidays.”

* * *

SHERIFF MCCALL CRAWFORD motioned Chloe into her office. “You look so serious, maybe you’d better close the door.”

She smiled as she closed the door and took the chair the sheriff offered her. “I’m here about the Drew Calhoun shooting.”

McCall nodded. “What about it?”

“I’d like to see the file.” The sheriff raised a brow. “It happened five years ago and was ruled an accident. I wouldn’t think you’d have a problem with my seeing it.”

“I have to ask why you’re interested,” McCall said. “As a reporter?”

“I’m currently not a reporter for a newspaper,” she said, but feeling like whatever had pushed her into that career would always be with her. Curiosity. The kind that killed cats. “I’m taking some time off to consider my options.”

“What exactly are you looking for then with Drew Calhoun’s death?” the sheriff asked.

“Answers.”

McCall said nothing for a few moments. “Is there anyone who might want to get you involved in his death?”

She thought of Justin. “Not that I know of.”

“So why get involved?”

“It’s what I do. I’m an investigative reporter. Maybe it is the years of doing this for a living, but I feel there might be more to the story.”

“There isn’t. I investigated Drew Calhoun’s death. It was an accident.”

Chloe studied her for a moment. She’d heard good things about McCall. “Then there shouldn’t be a problem with looking into the case.”

“I would be happy to tell you anything you’d like to know.” McCall leaned back in her chair. “Ask away.”

“I understand Bert Calhoun believes his son Justin fired the fatal shot. Was there gunshot residue on Justin’s hands and clothing?”

“Some.”

Chloe blinked. She hadn’t been expecting that.

The sheriff continued. “Why don’t I tell you exactly what’s in the report? Drew was found by his brother, Justin, in a cabin on the property. The gun belonged to Drew. Justin said he heard two gunshots and went to investigate.”

“Two shots?”

“One bullet caught Drew in the heart, the other lodged in the wall by the door, which he was facing. Both were from the same gun, the one Justin said he found his brother holding in his lap.”

“So how did Justin—”

“Drew was still alive, according to his brother, and trying to fire the gun a third time. Justin rushed to him and took the gun away from him and called for help. But before the ambulance and EMTs could get there, Drew died.”

Chloe sat back. “So why did I hear Bert Calhoun thinks Justin killed his brother?”

The sheriff shook her head. “I’ve found grieving parents especially have trouble accepting their child’s death. They don’t want to face it. They tell me that their son knew guns, had since he was a boy. That he wouldn’t have been stupid enough to shoot himself.” She shrugged. “The truth is accidents happen all the time. People get careless.”

“Was there any sign of a struggle?” Chloe asked.

McCall glanced away and Chloe knew she’d hit on something. “Apparently Drew had a run-in with someone earlier that night. He’d been drinking, according to the blood alcohol level hours later. He had a split lip, a cut over one eye. The eye was nearly swollen shut, which could also explain why he was careless with the gun. He had lacerations on his arms and jaw.”

“Lacerations?”

The sheriff met her gaze. “Scratches.”

“Like from fingernails?”

“The coroner said that was definitely an option,” she said noncommittally.

“Do you have any idea who he tangled with that night?” Chloe asked.

She shook her head. “But he and his brother had been heard arguing earlier in the day. When Justin was questioned his knuckles were skinned and he had a bruise on his forehead. He admitted to having argued with his brother but swears he didn’t beat him up. As for his own injuries, he said they were self-inflicted. He alleged that he’d taken out his temper on a tree out by the pond on the ranch property. When tests were run on his hands, fragments of tree resin were found.”