Chapter Nine

CHAPTER NINE

H OLDEN WOKE THINKING about what his ranch hand had told him yesterday. He swore as he went downstairs to find Elaine setting the table for breakfast.

“You’re not dressed for your morning ride,” she said, looking concerned. “Is everything all right?”

He hated that seeing Elaine, he was reminded of how Deacon had touched her hand in passing yesterday. He’d been surprised by the intimacy of it. He wondered how far their relationship had gone and, worse, what might happen if it got serious. He couldn’t bear losing Elaine, even to a good man like his ranch manager.

“Nothing is all right,” he said miserably, realizing how true it was.

She smiled and sat down, patting his spot at the table. “Have a seat and tell me about it.”

“I don’t even know where to begin,” Holden said truthfully.

“Why don’t you let me get you some breakfast, and you can tell me,” Elaine said even as he told her he wasn’t hungry. “I’ll be right back.”

He’d barely taken a seat before she returned with a carafe of hot coffee, slices of banana bread and a bowl of strawberries swimming in sweetened cream.

“I figured if you weren’t hungry then you definitely didn’t want eggs,” she said. She’d always had a calming effect on him—and the rest of the family, for that matter. Except for Treyton and Bailey. “Why don’t you start at the beginning. What are you doing up so early if not going for your usual ride?”

“Bailey,” he said, taking a bite of the banana bread. It was moist and sweet and delicious. “Did you know she’s been seeing the sheriff?”

“Seeing?”

He growled. “Whatever. All I know is that she came out of his house before sunrise. I passed her on the road.”

“What were you doing on the road?”

“I wanted to see the sheriff before he left for the office, find out if there was anything new on the murder,” Holden said, and shook his head. “Didn’t even talk about that, as it turns out. Bailey was leaving his house. We passed each other, her just as brazen as daylight.”

“Holden, she’s not a teenager anymore. She’s almost thirty. I’d expect her to have someone in her life. Or is the problem her seeing the sheriff?”

He growled under his breath. “Why Stuart? I mean, she has her pick of any rancher in the valley. Why the sheriff?”

Elaine shook her head at him. “You realize how you sound?”

“Is it wrong to want my daughter to marry well? She can marry a man with a ranch and land and a good future just as easily as a...a sheriff.”

Elaine’s eyes widened. “You sound exactly like your father, and look where that’s gotten you! I’d want my daughter to marry for love—not land or money—and I would think you, of all people, would know that marrying well doesn’t mean happiness.”

He felt as if she’d slapped him. His father had forced him to marry a woman he didn’t love for what she could bring to the marriage—several ranches his father wanted to add to his holdings. It was how he’d lost Lottie.

“You’re right, I’m a damned fool,” he said, avoiding her gaze. “If she loves Stuart then I’ll welcome him into the family.”

“That’s more like it, but it sounds as if your concerns are premature. Bailey hasn’t been involved with anyone for so long, who knows what this might be between the two of them? Whatever you do, Holden McKenna, you don’t say a word about this to your daughter. For the first time in your life, hold your tongue.”

He had to smile. “What would I ever do without you?”

“Good thing you’re never going to have to find out,” she said with a chuckle as she pulled the bowl of strawberries toward her and picked up a spoon. “If you aren’t going to eat these, then I am.” She grinned.

“It’s not just Bailey,” he said gruffly as he recalled what Pickett Hanson had told him. “It’s Holly Jo too.”

“What about Holly Jo?’ Elaine asked protectively.

“She has an older boyfriend who has his driver’s license,” Holden said pointedly.

“Oh,” she said. “How much older?”

“Sixteen.” He proceeded to tell her what Pickett had told him. “He actually thinks I should let her go to this dance that’s coming up at the school with this boy in his car—even after she didn’t get permission when she ditched the bus to ride home with him. If Pickett hadn’t been at the county road to surprise her with a ride, who knows when we would have found out about him.”

Elaine chuckled again but quickly stopped when Holden added, “Pickett thinks someone needs to have the birds and bees talk with her. You’re the logical person.”

“ Me ?” she choked out.

“Who else is there?” he asked. “Bailey?” He guffawed at that.

“I think you should have a talk with her—” Elaine said before she was interrupted. “Not about the birds and bees, but about getting permission. I also think you should let her go to the dance—maybe drive her yourself until we know more about this boy. What’s his name?”

“Buck Savage.”

Elaine lifted a brow. “You know his father.”

“Uh-huh,” Holden said. “Why did I ever think I could raise this child?”

S TUART HALF EXPECTED to wake up and find Bailey gone as usual. Last night they’d gone back out on the porch to drink their beers. The darkness had closed around them like a cocoon as they sat side by side in the wicker chairs he’d picked up at a garage sale. A breeze had come up, rustling the nearby trees.

For some reason, he hadn’t been afraid of what was out there in the dark. They’d sat out there like two people who’d been together for a long time. Almost like married people, he’d thought.

He’d felt the same way this morning when he’d walked into his kitchen and found her there making coffee. Last night, he’d had her in his arms. He was still shaken by that brief embrace and what she’d told him. She’d come to him. Finally. His relief mixed with his horror and fear, a deadly concoction. He had to find the man and make sure that he never touched another woman again. That he never came back for Bailey.

She finished scooping the grounds and leaned against the cabinet next to him as the coffee brewed. As if on impulse, she reached over and took one of his hands in hers. “I’ve always loved your hands. Well-used hands, rough for a sheriff, tanned and scarred. I’ve often thought about these hands...” She let go of him and pushed off the counter. “Sorry. You probably don’t want to hear that.”

He grinned at her. “My hands on your naked body? I’ve dreamed of that.”

“I want that,” she said almost shyly. “Now you know what’s holding me back.”

Stuart nodded. “I’m going to find him so you can put the nightmare behind you. It will be harder since it’s been twelve years.”

“Go ahead, say it. I should have gone to the sheriff when it happened, but he was your father , and I couldn’t because everyone would know. He would know. Since I never saw the man’s face, I couldn’t identify him. I was scared if I told anyone, he’d come back for me. The last thing he said as he stumbled out of the cabin was that he was going to kill me.”

“It would have helped had you gone to my father right away,” he agreed. “The man bled in that old cabin. My father would have gotten a sample of his blood, his DNA. It would have helped once we have a suspect.” He looked over at her. “But mostly, you wouldn’t have had to live with this alone all these years.”

“I was seventeen . I was scared. I didn’t want anyone to know because...”

“You felt you’d done something to make it happen,” Stuart said.

“I can’t believe how ridiculous that is, but at the time, I did.”

He nodded. “Having his blood or even his DNA wouldn’t have led us to him if he hadn’t ever provided his DNA—unless he’s done this before.”

She nodded solemnly. “Did you get his DNA this time?”

“No, the river washed away any evidence he might have left. He was more careful.” He rerouted the conversation once the coffee started dripping and they took a seat at the kitchen table. He pulled out his phone, set it up and hit Record. “Let’s start with the rope he used. Can you describe it?”

“Clothesline cord, not rope. He had it cut in lengths, thus the knife he forgot.”

“Was cord something that was kept in that old cabin?”

She shook her head. “The cabin was empty, half falling down. He must have put it there beforehand—just like the knife and the branding iron and the wood he’d used to make the small fire to heat the iron.”

“He had everything he needed at the cabin and the syringe with the drug in his jacket pocket. Which means he’d been planning this for a while. All he needed to do was get you away from the house. You said your father sent you out to check the horse that had allegedly gotten out.”

“It was a ruse. All the horses were fine,” Bailey said. “It was him. He was waiting for me by the stable. All of the ranch hands were helping with the barbecue, so there was no one around.”

“Any rancher would have known that,” Stuart said. “He must have also known about that old cabin a good distance from the stable. He had already hidden the cord, knife and branding iron, which means that he’d been on the property prior to the barbecue—either hours or days.”

“I’ve thought of that. I’ve asked myself who he could be. A close friend of my father’s who often came over to the ranch to ride or pay for stud? Or someone who came to the ranch to see one of the ranch hands? Or a neighbor? That’s just it. He could be anyone.”

“It doesn’t mean he’s a friend of your father’s,” Stuart said as the coffee finished brewing and he poured them each a cup. “Even if he is, your father isn’t to blame.”

She took a sip of the coffee, saying nothing. He figured she knew she shouldn’t have blamed her father all these years. But he could see that for so long, she’d told herself it wouldn’t have happened if Holden McKenna hadn’t held the barbecue and invited the man.

“Don’t you think the man who attacked you would have figured out another way to get to you other than the day of the barbecue if he was that set on it?” Stuart asked. “Also, it would appear, given all the planning he did, that it was you he wanted. He didn’t go after Willow until she changed her hair color.”

“What are you getting at?”

“He must know you, have been interested in you for some time,” Stuart said. “So, while there were people all over the ranch that day—”

“The actual barbecue of the pork and beef was prepared by the ranch hands and Deacon, but the sides were catered,” she said, frowning. “There were strangers in and out all morning before the barbecue.”

“But he wasn’t a stranger, and if he wasn’t...why are you so sure the man who attacked you was one of the ranchers your father had invited? There must have been something about him making you think that.”

Bailey seemed to think for a moment, then shook her head. “Other than the way he was dressed, I don’t know.”

“What about his voice?”

“He only spoke in a hoarse whisper behind the mask—except when he cried out in pain.”

“But you saw his body, all except his head covered in the mask, right?”

“He was big, over six feet, husky and very strong as if he worked the ranch himself, but there are a lot of ranchers like that.”

He was still questioning why she was so sure he was a rancher. “He was dressed in Western attire,” Stuart said.

“But that isn’t the only reason I’m sure he’s a rancher, someone from around here. He was so...confident. He didn’t have any doubt that he could pull this off.”

“Which leads me back to believing that he knew you. If he was a friend of your father’s, he would have seen you at the ranch—and you him.”

She shook her head. “I understand what you’re getting at. If I’m right, why didn’t I recognize him? I don’t know.”

He let it drop. “How old was he?”

“About my father’s age at the time—early forties, maybe younger.”

“So he might be a contemporary of your father’s. Was there anything else about him?” She shook her head. “This barbecue, was there a guest list?”

O AKLEY S TAFFORD H ANSON knew when she was beat. With a sigh, she pulled out her phone and called her sister. “I need your help.”

Tilly chuckled as if she’d been expecting this call and wondering why it had taken so long. “For what?”

“Don’t play dumb.”

“I have pregnancy brain.”

“Pffft!” Oakley was already wishing she hadn’t made the call. No matter what she said to her sister, Tilly always had to remind her that she was pregnant. Like her expanding belly wasn’t enough, or that glow in her cheeks or all the baby clothes and paraphernalia all over the house weren’t enough. “Are you going to help me with your shower or not?” she snapped.

“I thought you’d never ask. Where are you?”

Oakley looked around. “At the general store. There’s nothing here to decorate with. Nothing.”

“Don’t be silly,” her sister said cheerily. “It’s fall, and we live on a ranch. There’s something to decorate with everywhere if you know what to look for.”

“Clearly, I don’t,” she groaned.

“I’ll give you a list,” Tilly said, quickly taking over, as expected. “It will be like a scavenger hunt. You can bring everything to my house. Then we can pick a date, put it in the Tattler , and decide who to invite personally, what to make for refreshments, and finally decorate together. How does that sound?”

“Just wonderful,” Oakley said facetiously. Why had she suggested this? Because Tilly was pregnant and her sister, and because her brother Brand’s fiancée, Birdie Malone, had asked if she was throwing a shower, like she should have already thought of that herself.

Things seemed to be happening too fast in some ways and too slow in others, Oakley thought. Brand had certainly fallen in love fast. Oakley was getting a sister-in-law she barely knew. Birdie would probably become pregnant right away—if she wasn’t already.

In a lousy mood, Oakley tried to cut Birdie some slack. She seemed nice enough, but clearly she had no idea what she was in for, marrying into the Stafford family.

“When do I get to meet your mother?” Birdie had asked as she admired the diamond engagement ring on her own left hand. It had been their grandmother’s. How Brand had gotten it, Oakley had no idea. Had she given the ring any thought at all, she would have assumed that their brother CJ had probably already pawned it. The ring was beautiful, and so was Birdie, Oakley had to admit. It was the long black hair, those big green eyes darker than Oakley’s, and that innocent face.

“With luck, you’ll never have to meet Mother,” she’d told Birdie, who had looked like she might cry.

“Do you think she’ll like me?” she’d asked.

“Birdie—”

“She’ll love you,” Oakley had said, even though she doubted her mother loved anyone. Except Holden McKenna, who she equally hated.

Climbing into the ranch truck she’d driven to town, she redialed her sister. “Let’s not forget to invite Birdie to your shower. I feel sorry for her. She’s afraid Mother won’t like her.”

Tilly laughed. “Birdie sure has you buffaloed. Trust me, Birdie can hold her own with our mother. She’s going to be a great addition to the family. So, have you started on the list I gave you?”

“You mean what you were telling me on the phone just minutes ago?”

“You didn’t write it down?” Tilly asked as if horrified.

“No, I’m on my way to your house. I thought we were doing all of this together. See you in a second.” She hung up before her sister could comment.

B AILEY WASN ’ T SURE that telling Stuart how she felt had been a good idea. She felt safest when Stuart was in his sheriff mode. She could almost ignore the low-voltage sexual tension that vibrated between them. Actually, she liked the faint heated buzzing just under her skin when she got near him. It reminded her that she was still alive. That maybe one day...

Lately the tension had been stronger. She wondered how much longer she could fight it as she rubbed her arms and saw that he was still waiting for an answer to his question. It took her a moment to remember the question.

“The barbecue guest list,” she said. “I have it.” They both glanced at the large bag she always carried now lying on the floor next to the couch where she’d been sitting, but neither moved toward it.

“You say you’ve been looking for him all these years,” Stuart said, his gaze intent on her. She felt the burn of it on her skin, the heat of it stirring a need she had thought she would never feel again. She hadn’t dated in college, and what she’d done since she wouldn’t call dating, because she hadn’t been able to stand getting that close to any man.

“Is that what you’ve been doing when you come and go at all hours of the night?”

“I’ve been looking through the list.”

“I don’t know what that means,” he said. “Earlier you said you’ve been searching for him.”

Bailey sipped her coffee. She could feel his intent gaze on her. “I’ve narrowed it down to four ranchers,” she said, not ready to tell him more.

He nodded. “But that’s not everything, is it?” He stared hard at her. “Talk to me, Bailey. Don’t shut me out like you always do when you’re scared. What is it you aren’t telling me?”

“I just bared my soul to you,” Bailey snapped, pushing back on her chair and standing up. “That wasn’t enough?”

The sheriff said nothing, clearly waiting as he got to his feet.

She let her gaze rise to meet his. She liked this man as much as she loved him. Wasn’t that why she’d come close to confiding in him so many times over the past few years? He seemed to see her as no other man had. Like now. He knew there was more.

His eyes had sharpened. That glint in them told her he knew more than she thought he did. That was what scared her. That and whatever sizzled between them. She wanted this man, body and soul. He was handsome in a rangy way that made her pulse pound. She loved how he looked at her as if he wanted more than sex. He wanted her. All of her, and had for a long time.

Whenever she’d stopped by his house at all hours, she’d wanted him as badly as she knew he wanted her. But she’d been afraid to get too close. She didn’t want him to see the ugly part of her. Not just on her body, but in her heart, the part that demanded vengeance. But her true fear was that she wouldn’t be able to make love even with this man she desired almost more than her next breath.

“You don’t have any idea how sexy you are when you’re in sheriff mode,” she said now.

He groaned, seeing what she was up to. “Bailey—”

“Be careful. You know what will happen if you and I get too close,” she said, moving closer.

“I know what you’re doing, but what do you think will happen if you and I get too close?” His gaze said that he knew exactly what would happen, that he’d been waiting for her to come to him, but it would mean surrendering all of her, including her secrets and her scarred body.

As much as her fingers itched to cup his strong, bristled jaw, to draw him to her, to kiss him, she didn’t dare touch him right now because she knew he would reject her advances. He would see through her need to be pushed away rather than confide in him.

“I guess you’ll tell me when you’re ready,” Stuart said, turning his back on her.

“It doesn’t have anything to do with Willow’s death or my assault,” she said, fighting the urge to reach for him. She yearned to be in his strong arms. She yearned to bare her soul to him. No more secrets. No more regrets. But all she could do was let him walk away. Once she told him the rest, she was sure he would walk away for good.

S TUA RT QUESTIONED WHAT he was doing. He knew how stubborn and independent Bailey was. Just as he knew that she was keeping something from him. She said it had nothing to do with her assault or Willow’s murder? Something more personal?

Whatever it was, he told himself to let it go. Only hours earlier, he’d been ready to hang up his gun and star. Bailey had changed all of that. Now he had to find a rapist killer who, according to her, was one of them.

He turned back to her as he reached for his Stetson. “I’m going to need to see that guest list,” he said, back in sheriff mode. He saw Bailey seem to relax as if she’d been worried that he might change his mind and resign rather than try to find the man who’d assaulted her. Didn’t she know him better than that?

That was just it, he thought. Maybe she didn’t know him any better than he did her. Through the window, he could see that the sun had crested the mountains and now painted the river bottom golden. He loved this time of year when the leaves on the cottonwoods began to turn, when summer heat waned and, with luck, winter was still a few months off.

He told himself that he’d find this man before the first snow and hoped he was right.

“Stuart—”

He cut her off. “My only concern right now is arresting the guy who assaulted you and killed Willow. How did you narrow it down to these four?”

Bailey looked as if she wanted to say more, but reached instead to open the large satchel-like bag she carried around as if it was full of gold. To her, it probably felt like that. This had been her life for so many of those years after the attack—trying to find the man who’d attacked her.

She pulled out her computer and then a notebook filled with papers. He could see her neat handwriting in the notes she’d made to herself. It only took her a moment to find a copy of the guest list.

As she handed it to him, he saw that most of the names had a line through them. All the ones she’d located who’d been at the barbecue that day and crossed off? He saw that it left only a half dozen. He looked up at her. She’d done most of his work for him. “These that are marked out—”

“Weren’t him,” she said. “But I didn’t mark the name off until I’d checked to see if he had a son or nephew or someone visiting who could have been him.”

He saw now why it had taken her years. She’d been thorough. “Why couldn’t you scratch these last six off the guest list?”

She took the paper from him. “This one is dead. Died twelve years ago in a ranching accident. I’ve seen photos of him. I left him on the list because he could have been the man. But after Willow... It’s not him.” Pulling out a pen, she scratched off the name. “There’s one more. He was injured in a car accident last year and is unable to walk.” Bailey looked up at him. “He was a possibility, but not anymore.”

He knew who she was referring to and nodded. “So that leaves four ranchers. What about the catering people?”

“I’ve vetted them all. It wasn’t one of them. They were all women and were busy the whole time they were on the ranch.”

“No one brought a brother or a boyfriend?” he asked.

“No. The man who attacked me had been on the ranch before. He knew about the old abandoned cabin. He knew me.”

Stuart stared at her, knowing it was true. This wasn’t random in any way. The man hadn’t just planned the assault. He’d been after only one young woman—Bailey. It’s why when Willow changed her long, curly hair from blond to almost black, the man had gone after her. She’d looked too much like the young Bailey who’d gotten away.

“There’s one thing I don’t understand,” Stuart said. He knew criminals often followed a pattern. They normally didn’t go twelve years before striking again, especially if Bailey was right—it was only her he wanted—and killing Willow had been a message. “You came back five years after college. You said you knew he’d attack you again. I understand why you returned, but why did he wait?”

“Maybe I’m wrong and it isn’t about me,” she said. “I’m almost thirty. Willow was at least ten years younger, right? She looked like me when I was her age. Maybe he has a type. Maybe I wasn’t even his first.”

He met her gaze. “We’re going to get him. We have you. You’re an eyewitness.”

She shook her head. “He knows I didn’t see his face and can’t identify him or he’d already be in jail. He knows I won’t see him coming until it’s too late.”

That was Stuart’s fear also. He looked at the list again. He didn’t want to believe that Bailey was in imminent danger, yet his instincts told him that she was right. She was. This was about her and only her. This had been personal. The man had taken a huge chance doing what he’d done on the day of her father’s big barbecue.

Had this started because it had always been about her father? Had this been a way to get back at Holden McKenna? It wouldn’t be the first time someone had used one of Holden’s family members to try to hurt him. But then, why Willow? No, the message had been sent to Bailey—not her father. This was about her.

Stuart looked up at her. He had to follow his gut and hers. The man was coming for her again, and they had to find him before that happened. “I want to know everything about these four ranchers left on your list. With luck, he’s one of the four. I’m assuming you’ve seen each of these men.”

She nodded. “Any one of them could be him.”

“I’ll check them out,” Stuart said. “If he’s one of them, then he wasn’t home the night of the murder. Also, we have a boot print that was left at the scene. The print was fresh, but not enough to prove that he’s our man. It could have been left by someone else who stopped by the river in the past few days.” He frowned as he had a thought. “You don’t happen to remember the type of boot your attacker wore, do you?”

“Black, crocodile, pointed toe.”

“How about the heel?” he asked.

She frowned thoughtfully and shook her head no.

“A buckaroo-style boot by any chance, tapered at the heel?” Stuart asked. “Taller top with an extra layer of leather to protect the cowboy’s legs from the thick brush and tapered heel in the back?”

“Sorry. All I can tell you was that they looked expensive.”

Stuart nodded, though “expensive” could cover a lot of dress cowboy boots on ranchers in the area.

Bailey, he noticed, looked for the first time as if she believed the man could be found and stopped before he came for her. She reached into her bag and pulled out her computer. “I can send you everything I know about the four ranchers and their families. Everything but their boot size and style.”

“Good, I’ll see what I can find out.” He glanced at the time. “I need to get to my office.” The registration letter was still in his desk drawer. He didn’t want anyone finding it before he could destroy it. Bailey was busy on her computer. He heard his phone announce that four emails had been delivered. “Bailey?”

She looked up as she finished and closed her computer.

“I was thinking it might be a good idea if you lie low in the meantime,” he said. “I’d recommend that you go out to the ranch... Maybe tell your father what’s going on.” She shook her head. “It’s going to come out.”

“I wasn’t safe at the ranch when I was seventeen,” she said. “What makes you think I would be now?”

She had a point. “Anyway, I have to go to Billings. If you need to get in touch with me, I’ll be at the Northern for the night.”

He couldn’t hide his relief that she would be away from here. Not that the rancher couldn’t follow her to the hotel. But he felt she should be safe in Billings since as far as they knew, the rancher wouldn’t be as familiar with the city as he was with the Powder River Basin.

However, he had to wonder why she was going to Billings. She could be meeting a man at the hotel. She could be doing just about anything. If she wanted him to know, she would have told him, so he let it go. “Stay in touch.”

She nodded, and they stood awkwardly for a few moments.

“I’m glad you told me.” He said nothing as she turned and picked up her things. “You know I’ll do whatever it takes to find him and bring him to justice.”

Her smile told him how things would go. “You won’t be doing this alone. You need me. Don’t make me sorry I told you.” With that, she swept past him.

He walked to the porch to watch her leave, even more worried about her than he had been. Whatever she was doing in Billings, it had to do with her assault, with the man who was coming for her. He just couldn’t imagine how.

As she started to drive away, their gazes locked for a few seconds before she disappeared out of sight.

In those few seconds, he saw relief. She wasn’t alone in this anymore. The weight of it settled heavy on his shoulders, bringing with it all his doubts and his fears. He couldn’t fail her.