Promise from a Cowboy

Later, the medical examiner had confirmed that death had been caused by smoke inhalation. A crazy-high blood alcohol level explained why the unidentified young man hadn’t woken when the fire started.

Despite the “official story” there had been rumors. Most of them centered around Hunter Moody, who everyone agreed had always been a shady sort—just like his father.

B.J. couldn’t do much about the rumors. But he’d kept his promise to his father and remained mum about that night, never telling anyone that Hunter had been up in the loft and must have seen the vagrant.

He could have put all the blame on Hunter, but he hadn’t. He’d protected the other guy out of a sense of responsibility. He should have figured out Hunter was up to something and stopped him.

He’d kept quiet for Savannah’s sake. She had enough problems with her family. He hadn’t wanted to add another.

“You’re still not going to tell me what happened, are you?”

Mind reader. “Better ask your brother.”

She made a sound of frustration, then gave up on him and resumed her inspection of the barn. “I’d like to get a look at that loft,” she said.

He glanced up. Light was coming through gaps in the wood. “It’s probably not safe.”

“Just a quick once-over.”

“I’ll go.” He leaned some of his weight on the ladder, which was on the opposite side of the barn from where the fire had started. It didn’t feel very solid.

“Let me try it,” Savannah said. “I’m lighter.”

He gave her a “get serious” look, then, despite his better judgment, put a foot on the second rung. Half expecting the lumber to crack apart under his boot, he took another step, and another.

Anxiously Savannah gripped the bottom of the ladder. “Be careful, B.J.”

He grinned. “How many times have I heard you say that?” Glancing down, he thought he could see her smile in return. He was just about at the top now. He reached one hand from the ladder to the floor of the loft, and was about to take the final step up when he heard a loud crack and his left foot fell through rotten wood.

“B.J.!”

He grasped desperately with his free hand, managing to secure a two-hand hold on the loft, while the rest of his body swung free as the ladder disintegrated beneath him.

“Hang on, B.J.!”

“Believe me, I am.” He grunted as he worked at shifting his body weight up to the loft. “You okay down there?” He hoped she hadn’t been struck by any of the falling wood.

“I’m fine. Try swinging your legs. If you get some momentum...”

She’d no sooner said the words than he was putting them into action. And the extra momentum did help. He grunted again, pushed hard and finally was able to drag his body up to the second level.

“Look out. I’m tossing you the flashlight,” she called. He heard a thud a few feet to his right.

“Don’t stand, in case the wood is rotten up there,” Savannah added.

“Roger that.” He crawled toward the torch and, once he had it securely in hand, switched on the light and played it against the far wall. Slowly he surveyed the space, but saw nothing except a few bales of moldering hay and a pile of blankets in the far corner.

“Any signs of fire up there?”

He studied the rafters and roof for several minutes before admitting, “No. I can see where the guy died, though. There’s still a pile of blankets in the corner.”

Savannah hesitated. “I don’t imagine there can be any physical evidence worth salvaging at this point. But want to take a closer look?”

He did and was already crawling toward the corner. When he arrived, he carefully set down the torch, then picked up first one blanket, then the other. He saw nothing, but heard the clink of something metal falling to the wooden surface.

Savannah heard it, too. “What was that?”

He flashed light over the area. Something gold sparkled. “It’s some kind of coin. Should I leave it here? Or take it?”

Savannah didn’t answer for a long time. Then in a quiet voice she said, “Take it.”

He slipped the coin in his pocket. Once he’d satisfied himself that there was nothing else he hadn’t noticed, he started crawling toward the bales.

“There are some old hay bales up here. Stand back while I toss them down. They’ll probably break apart when they fall, then after you mound up the hay, I’ll jump.”

“I’ve been wondering how you were going to get down.”

“No problem,” he said, mostly out of bravado. He was looking at a fifteen-foot drop and these bales were the small, square kind.

“Okay. I’m out of the way.”

“Here they come, then.” He heaved one, then the other, over the edge. As he’d predicted, the old twine broke apart on impact and the hay spilled free onto the dirt floor.

Savannah lost no time in piling the hay into the softest landing pad possible. “I wish we had more.”

“And I wish that damn ladder hadn’t broken,” he mumbled. He’d better not break an ankle with this fool maneuver. Hobbling around in a cast wasn’t his idea of how to spend the summer months.

He sat down, letting his legs dangle over the open side of the loft. Savannah was standing back, watching.

“This is crazy,” she said. “Why don’t you wait while I drive to my place? I can be back with a proper steel ladder in under an hour.”

He didn’t fancy hanging around this loft like a damsel in distress for five more minutes, let alone an hour.

“Incoming,” he called out. Then he let the rest of his body follow his feet off the edge of the loft.

* * *

B.J. ROLLED AS HE HIT the hay pile and ended up a few feet from the tips of Savannah’s boots.

Her heart had taken a leap of its own when he’d jumped, but she managed to sound cool. “You look good down there.”

He levered his body up with his strong arms, then hopped to his feet. “Don’t push your luck, woman.”

For a moment he stood his ground, too close for comfort, making her aware of how much stronger and tougher he’d grown in the years since he’d left Coffee Creek.

Of course, she was stronger and tougher, too, but mostly in ways that couldn’t be seen.

“You all right?” she asked, trying to switch her focus from her feelings—which were ridiculously fragile right now—to his well-being.

He took a few tentative steps. “Seem to be.” He handed her the flashlight, which she hadn’t even noticed he was still carrying. Then he dug the coin out of his pocket. “What do you make of this?”

She stepped out of the barn, surprised to see that the sun was almost behind the distant Highwood Mountains to the west. She studied both sides of the coin. It looked brand-new, but was dated more than a century ago. “I’ve never seen anything like this before. I wonder if it’s valuable?”

B.J. had followed her outside and now he looked over her shoulder at the coin. “Seems like an odd thing for a young guy to have dropped out of his pocket.”

“Maybe our runaway took more than his father’s watch with him.”

“It does look like something from a collection. Maybe he planned to pawn it for cash.”

“Whoever stole the watch mustn’t have known about the coin.” She put it in her pocket. Strange this wasn’t found during the investigation. After eighteen years exposed to the elements, she was certain no fingerprints could have survived. B.J.’s handling of the coin pretty much guaranteed it. But she’d store the coin in the evidence room at the office, just in case it turned out to be significant.

She glanced back at the barn, then at B.J. She wondered what he was thinking. There had been moments, back there, where it had felt like old times between them.

She’d done a lot of thinking on the long drive home from Oregon. For so many years she’d blamed B.J. for the party, and for Hunter’s subsequent downward spiral.

She realized now that she’d been unfair.

B.J. had been good to her brother. He’d taught him to ride, and to wrestle a steer and rope a calf—all skills that Hunter still put to good use on the rodeo circuit. He’d included Hunter in their group of friends, most of whom were responsible kids who worked hard at school and were involved in sporting events in their spare time.

The wildest thing they ever did was gather at the creek bank behind Main Street to drink a few beers on weekend nights.

“That party was Hunter’s idea, wasn’t it?”

“Kind of late now.” B.J. shrugged. “But yeah.”

“Why did you lie?”

“Why do you think?” he asked quietly.

Her heart sank. There could be only one answer. “You did it for me.”

After she’d picked Hunter up from the sheriff’s office, her brother had really laid it on thick about how B.J. had insisted they all take their ATVs out to that barn. According to Hunter, B.J. was the one who’d sourced the hard liquor, as well.

She’d been so upset, she’d refused to take B.J.’s calls. And she’d avoided him at school, too.

Two months later, they’d graduated from high school—and then B.J. and Hunter were both gone.

She put a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry.”

“Well. It was probably for the best. We were too young.”

Back then, yes. She nodded. “So how long are you home for? Where’s the next rodeo?”

“Not sure.” B.J. picked up his hat, which he’d left on a rock when he’d gone into the barn earlier. He glanced up at the sky and frowned. “Looks like a storm is blowing in.”

“That happened fast.” She thought of the other night, eighteen years ago. According to her brother, the big thunderstorm had blown in quickly then, too.

B.J. glanced at her motorbike. “You better get moving before those clouds get here.”

“You, too.”

Yet they both stood for a few seconds longer, watchful and tentative as good memories and bad battled it out. She’d come out here hoping to convince herself that the story Hunter and B.J. had told all those years ago had been true.

Instead, she was certain that there was more to the story. A lot more. And Travis McBride’s family deserved to know what it was.

Chapter Four

It was dark by the time Savannah coasted the bike down her driveway. She was glad to see Regan’s car parked next to her SUV. While she didn’t begrudge her hardworking sister a little fun, lately she’d been going out a lot after work, and Savannah worried she wasn’t getting enough rest.

Regan’s summer job at Monahan’s Equestrian Center started shortly after dawn and didn’t end until six o’clock. The work was physically demanding—primarily cleaning barns, grooming horses and oiling tack. Rolling in at midnight, then getting five hours sleep, just didn’t cut it in Savannah’s opinion.

She parked her bike in the garage—which was too crammed with junk to fit a car or truck—then went in the back door.

“Regan? I’m home. Did you check the mail?” She shook her hair free from the confines of her helmet, then hung up her jacket.

“I did. Nothing came,” her sister called back. “You’re just in time for dinner. And we’ve got a guest. His name is Murray.”

Savannah paused before stepping into the kitchen. Her sister rarely invited girlfriends over, let alone a guy. Could this Murray be the reason she’d been spending so many evenings away from home?

Savannah hoped not. The wrong guy at the wrong time could derail Regan’s plans for med school. And her sister had worked too hard to let that happen.

“Smells good in here.” She smiled at her sister, before checking out their visitor. He was a nice-looking kid, in his early twenties like Regan, with sandy-colored hair that curled around his ears and at the back of his neck. He looked tanned, as if he spent his days outside.

“It’s only chili.” Regan lifted a wooden spoon out of the pot on the stove. She had dark hair, too—all three of the Moody siblings did, thanks to their mother’s French-Canadian blood. But Regan was shorter than Savannah, with delicate features and a small, pouty mouth.

“You know I love chili.” She felt a pang of guilt for going to check out the Silver Creek barn instead of staying home and making dinner for her sister for a change.

“Hi, I’m Savannah.” She offered a hand to Murray, who shook it firmly.

“Murray St. Clair. Nice to meet you. I hope you don’t mind me showing up for dinner.”

“Murray’s been here a lot while you were away.” Regan said this matter-of-factly, as if it were no big deal. “He brought over a bottle of wine. Help yourself.” She nodded to the open bottle of Malbec on the counter. It was already half-empty.

Wine for a midweek dinner was a rarity in the Moody household, but Savannah decided a glass might be a good idea. She had to be calm and not overreact. Regan was twenty-four now, hardly a kid to be ordered around.

“How was the trip to Oregon, Vanna? Did you see Hunter?”

“He didn’t show up.”

Her sister gave her a look of commiseration. “So you weren’t able to surprise him. How disappointing.”

“It was.” She took a sip of the robust red. “So—how did you two meet?”

“At Monahan’s,” Murray said.

“He’s an instructor,” Regan said in a voice meant to convey the superiority of this position over hers.

“Are you working for the summer, like Regan?”

“No. I’m full-time. I’ve been with Monahan’s since I graduated high school.”

“He was a year ahead of me.” Regan sampled the chili, then nodded. “It’s ready. Want to grab some bowls, Mur?”

Savannah was disconcerted to see that he knew the right cupboard to open. After pulling out three bowls, he went to the cutlery drawer and selected spoons, as well.

Regan ladled chili, added a handful of grated cheese, then passed a bowl to Savannah, before serving Murray, then herself.

Savannah sat at her usual spot and waited until the others had joined her. “You must know Cassidy Lambert. She just started working at Monahan’s a few weeks ago.”

“I do. She’s amazing. But then, Straws only hires the best.” Murray’s face and ears reddened. “Jeez. That didn’t come out right. I didn’t mean to be bragging or anything.”

“But it’s true,” Regan was quick to point out. “Straws does hire the best, and that includes you.”

When she saw the smile her sister gave Murray, Savannah suddenly realized that a lot had happened during the week she’d been away.

Regan had fallen in love.

And judging by the look in Murray’s eyes right now, the feeling was mutual.

“So, Murray, any plans for college in your future?”

He shrugged. “I’m pretty happy where I am.”

Savannah shifted uncomfortably. Couldn’t Regan see that this romance of hers wasn’t a good idea? “I guess you know Regan’s planning to go to med school.”

“If I get accepted.” Regan stirred her chili, then shot a glance at Murray. “I’ve been thinking, Vanna. It’s been a long time since I took any sort of break. You know I started work just a few days after my final exams.”

“You were lucky to get a job,” Savannah pointed out. “Med school is expensive.”

“Yes. But I’m tired. And what if I don’t get into med school?”

“You wouldn’t be tired if you didn’t stay out until after midnight every day. And you will get into med school. I’m sure of it.”

Another look passed between the two friends. Lovers? Savannah’s stomach felt leaden as she realized it was possible. Why, oh, why had she gone searching for her brother when she should have stayed home looking after the one person who truly mattered in this family?

“Even if I do get in—and say I even qualify for a partial scholarship—we can’t afford for me to go. There’s no way.”

“We’ll figure something out.”

“Will we? Don’t you get tired of everything being such a struggle all the time? We never have any fun. It’s all studying and working for the sake of a future that never seems to come.”

“We have fun. What about Friday movie nights?”

“A TV movie and popcorn. When I was little, yeah, it was kind of neat. But I want to go places and see things.”

Savannah realized suddenly that this wasn’t aimless complaining on Regan’s part. She had an idea. Maybe even a plan. “What are you really saying here?”

Regan glanced at Murray, then took a deep breath. “We’re going on a road trip. We’ll camp, so it won’t cost much money. We’ve already spoken to Mr. Monahan, and he’s agreed to give us four weeks off.”

“Four weeks with no salary?”

“It’s a drop in the bucket for what I’d need for med school. But four weeks of traveling could change my life.”

“Carpe diem,” Murray added—not very helpfully in Savannah’s opinion.

Living for the moment was a fine philosophy. But where did it get you in the end? With a medical degree, Regan’s future would be set. “There’ll be lots of time for traveling once you’re a doctor.”

“You’re so stubborn! When will you accept that this dream is simply out of reach?”

“I told you I’d find the money. And I will.”

“You’ve sacrificed enough for this family. You should be dating, going on exotic vacations and having fun, too. Instead, you spend all your time working, visiting our mother in the care home and worrying about me.”

Savannah rested her head in the cradle of her hands. The blood was pounding in her forehead. She could feel it. She could also see her sister’s point of view. But what Regan didn’t understand was how easily life could come unraveled. Without a solid education, she’d never get a good job, the kind that promised a nice home, security and a respected position in society.

There was no more respectable job than being a doctor. And this wasn’t something Savannah had pushed on her sister. This had been her dream since she was little.

Still, she couldn’t just shoot down Regan’s travel plans. Maybe a compromise? “How about you go camping for a week, then go back to work?”

“I’m sorry you’re against the idea, Vanna. But Murray and I are doing this. We’ve cleared it with Mr. Monahan, and we’re leaving in the morning.”

“And there’s nothing I can say?” Savannah couldn’t believe it. Regan had never defied her before.

“Nothing.”

* * *

B.J. AND BIG BLACK rode up to the home barn at Coffee Creek ranch just as the first star appeared in the evening sky. A rhyme from his childhood popped into B.J.’s head as he looked at it. Star light, star bright...some load of crap like that. B.J. didn’t waste his time wishing on stars. He wouldn’t even know what to ask for if he did.

Savannah’s face flashed in his mind and he felt an old yearning that should be dead and buried. He could wish on every star in the summer sky and she’d never be his. It was as simple as that.

B.J. dismounted and led his horse into the barn, where he cleaned and put away the tack, then gave the gelding a good brush-down.

Earlier he’d said hello to Corb and they’d had a little chat. His younger brother was a typical middle child—easygoing and affable. He’d adjusted to being a father and a husband as if he’d been born to the roles. B.J. admired him for that. Even more, he admired him for being able to work with their mother.

Both Corb and Brock had handled Olive a lot more easily than he ever could. It had always been that way. B.J. remembered railing to his father once about the way the family ostracized Maddie Turner.

“It isn’t right, Dad. You walked right by her today and didn’t say a word. That isn’t the way you taught us to treat people.”

His father had looked tired and he’d shaken his head when he’d answered. “You’re right, B.J. You weren’t raised to treat people that way. But sometimes you have to measure one thing against another. Being loyal to my wife is more important to me in this case than doing the polite thing.”

“But Mom gets so stubborn sometimes. Are you sure she’s being fair?”

“She isn’t the only one who can be stubborn, son. Your mom does a lot for you and she deserves your loyalty. As well as your love and respect.”

The conversation had ended there and B.J. had not dared raise the topic again. He knew he’d disappointed his father by even asking those questions.

As tough as he found his mother to understand at times, he did recognize that she’d devoted her life to her family and this ranch. She’d been a fiercely protective and caring mother when they were younger. And she’d worked long hours with the cattle and horses, as well.

And it was thanks to her keen business sense that the ranch had done so well after their father’s death and the most recent economic downturn. She’d had the good sense to diversify so that besides running over a thousand head of cattle, they had a booming quarter-horse breeding program, as well.

While their mother oversaw the entire operation, Corb was in charge of the cattle side of the business and, since Brock’s death, Jackson had taken over the breeding program. His foster brother had been an invaluable part of the core family for a long time now, yet B.J. sensed he wasn’t altogether comfortable with his new role.

Finished with Big Black, B.J. let him out with the rest of the family’s horses. The ones that were used for working with cattle and pleasure riding by the family were kept separated from the more expensive quarter horses. It was a precaution that had paid off big-time last month when an unexpected outbreak of strangles had resulted in the entire ranch being quarantined for a month.

If all the horses had comingled, the infection would have caused far more serious consequences than it had.

As it was, Cassidy had lost her favorite mustang, Finnegan. A loss, B.J. knew, that his soft-hearted sister had felt keenly.

Earlier B.J. had decided that he would sleep in his brother Brock’s cabin tonight. A long time ago his father had built three cabins along Cold Coffee Lake, which lay about a quarter mile beyond the main house. The idea had been one house for each son, but B.J. had given up his claim to Jackson.

Corb, his new bride, Laurel, and their baby, Stephanie, lived in the third cabin.

The middle one had been vacant since Brock’s death last July. It would be a nice quiet place for him to stay until he sorted out what to do with his life.

B.J. was heading there when he noticed a light on in the office of the home barn. He could think of only one person who would be working on the books at this hour, and it was a person he wanted to see.

Sure enough, he found Jackson on the oak chair behind the desk, frowning at the computer monitor.

“Hey, man. Anyone ever tell you that you work too hard?”

Jackson blinked, then rubbed a hand over his eyes. “Maybe a time or two. How are you doing? I thought you were in Central Point this weekend with your family?” Jackson stood, and shook his hand warmly.

When B.J.’s father had first brought Jackson to the ranch, Jackson had been thirteen and B.J. seventeen. They’d butted heads at first. B.J. had resented the fact that his father was paying attention to this kid—this delinquent—who wasn’t even part of the family.

But Jackson had worked hard, kept quiet and stayed out of trouble at school, and B.J. grudgingly came to respect and even like the guy.

Eventually he learned enough about Jackson’s past to realize the guy deserved a break. His mom had been in jail herself when Jackson got into trouble with the law. And his father had never been a part of his life.

At seventeen B.J. hadn’t been able to imagine life without his dad. Now, five years after losing him to a heart attack, he still felt the loss.

“I was there,” he said in answer to Jackson’s question. “But I decided to come back early.” He shared the family’s results with Jackson, but brushed off Jackson’s congratulations.

“Just another rodeo trophy, that’s all. I was glad Cassidy and Farley did so well, though.”

Jackson went to the small fridge in the corner of the room and pulled out a couple of beers. “But I thought you had another rodeo in Washington you were headed to next?”

“Had a change of plan. Plus I figured it was time to check up on the place. Frankly, I was hoping to find you enjoying life a little more than the last time I came home.”