Книга - Deliverance at Cardwell Ranch

Deliverance at Cardwell Ranch
B.J. Daniels






“I’m not going anywhere. I’m a man of my word.”

She met his gaze. “Somehow I knew that.”

“No matter how long it takes, I’m not leaving you.” Austin knew even as he made the promise that there would be hell to pay with his family. She started to turn away.

“One more thing,” he said. “Did your sister have a key to this house?”

“No.” Realization dawned on her expression. She shivered.

“Then there is nothing to worry about,” he said. “Try to get some sleep.”

“You, too.”

He knew that wouldn’t be easy. An electricity seemed to spark in the air between them. They’d been through so much together already. He didn’t dare imagine what tomorrow would bring.


Deliverance at Cardwell Ranch

B.J. Daniels






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


New York Times bestselling author B.J. DANIELS wrote her first book after a career as an award-winning newspaper journalist and author of thirty-seven published short stories. That first book, Odd Man Out, received a four-and-a-half-star review from RT Book Reviews and went on to be nominated for Best Intrigue that year. Since then, she has won numerous awards, including a career achievement award for romantic suspense and many nominations and awards for best book.

Daniels lives in Montana with her husband, Parker, and two springer spaniels, Spot and Jem. When she isn’t writing, she snowboards, camps, boats and plays tennis. Daniels is a member of Mystery Writers of America, Sisters in Crime, International Thriller Writers, Kiss of Death and Romance Writers of America.

To contact her, write to B.J. Daniels, PO Box 1173, Malta, MT 59538, USA, or e-mail her at bjdaniels@mtintouch.net (mailto:bjdaniels@mtintouch.net). Check out her website, www.bjdaniels.com (http://www.bjdaniels.com).


Contents

Cover (#u848861d2-1b86-5e5a-8a2b-13450c046a37)

Excerpt (#u3195767e-ca6f-57fd-b059-c635d8740e11)

Title Page (#udafa4bc3-08d4-511d-a535-7357a5e6dab0)

About the Author (#u44d66894-2076-5837-9d0a-bbf2d436eaae)

Chapter One (#ulink_f27cd72c-b12b-5aac-9d0a-4de62c3a06d0)

Chapter Two (#ulink_c9d47d7d-a57e-5d4e-b5e6-0c3ac8a020c3)

Chapter Three (#ulink_76178884-3110-5266-8caa-6c86930b866f)

Chapter Four (#ulink_7d2d676f-80f0-5a33-9fc1-62bca2618144)

Chapter Five (#ulink_c98d996d-261b-5cae-be06-55526cc34763)

Chapter Six (#ulink_fb5ca219-f10d-51c7-92a4-e741e772ab60)

Chapter Seven (#ulink_4f8a7db5-1642-5505-a0ee-2e21d666deed)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter One (#ulink_c3ff8060-a84d-5df1-9b0f-71e762ecfc67)

Snow fell in a wall of white, giving Austin Cardwell only glimpses of the winding highway in front of him. He’d already slowed to a crawl as visibility worsened. Now on the radio, he heard that Highway 191 through the Gallatin Canyon—the very one he was on—was closed to all but emergency traffic.

“One-ninety-one from West Yellowstone to Bozeman is closed due to several accidents including a semi rollover that has blocked the highway near Big Sky. Another accident near West Yellowstone has also caused problems there. Travelers are advised to wait out the storm.”

Great, Austin thought with a curse. Wait out the storm where? He hadn’t seen any place to even pull over for miles let alone a gas station or café. He had no choice but to keep going. This was just what this Texas boy needed, he told himself with a curse. He’d be lucky if he reached Cardwell Ranch tonight.

The storm appeared to be getting worse. He couldn’t see more than a few yards in front of the rented SUV’s hood. Earlier he’d gotten a glimpse of the Gallatin River to his left. On his right were steep rock walls as the two-lane highway cut through the canyon. There was nothing but dark, snow-capped pine trees, steep mountain cliffs and the frozen river and snow-slick highway.

“Welcome to the frozen north,” he said under his breath as he fought to see the road ahead—and stay on it. He blamed his brothers—not for the storm, but for his even being here. They had insisted he come to Montana for the grand opening of the first Texas Boys Barbecue joint in Montana. They had postponed the grand opening until he was well enough to come.

Although the opening was to be January 1, his cousin Dana had pleaded with him to spend Christmas at the ranch.

You need to be here, Austin, she’d said. I promise you won’t be sorry.

He growled under his breath now. He hadn’t been back to Montana since his parents divorced and his mother took him and his brothers to Texas to live. He’d been too young to remember much. But he’d found he couldn’t say no to Dana. He’d heard too many good things about her from his brothers.

Also, what choice did he have after missing his brother Tag’s wedding last July?

As he slowed for another tight curve, a gust of wind shook the rented SUV. Snow whirled past his windshield. For an instant, he couldn’t see anything. Worse, he felt as if he was going too fast for the curve. But he was afraid to touch his brakes—the one thing his brother Tag had warned him not to do.

Don’t do anything quickly, Tag had told him. And whatever you do, don’t hit your brakes. You’ll end up in the ditch.

He caught something in his headlights. It took him a moment to realize what he was seeing before his heart took off at a gallop.

A car was upside down in the middle of the highway, its headlights shooting out through the falling snow toward the river, the taillights a dim red against the steep canyon wall. The overturned car had the highway completely blocked.


Chapter Two (#ulink_0da73251-7eeb-506f-8284-d3cf9e435408)

Austin hit his brakes even though he doubted he stood a chance in hell of stopping. The SUV began to slide sideways toward the overturned car. He spun the wheel, realizing he’d done it too wildly when he began to slide toward the river. As he turned the wheel yet again, the SUV slid toward the canyon wall—and the overturned car.

He was within only a few feet of the car on the road, when his front tires went off the road into the narrow snow-filled ditch between him and the granite canyon wall. The deep snow seemed to grab the SUV and pull it in deeper.

Austin braced himself as snow rushed up over the hood, burying the windshield as the front of the SUV sunk. The ditch and the snow in it were much deeper than he’d thought. He closed his eyes and braced himself for when the SUV hit the steep rock canyon wall.

To his surprise, the SUV came to a sudden stop before it hit the sheer rock face.

He sat for a moment, too shaken to move. Then he remembered the car he’d seen upside down in the middle of the road. What if someone was hurt? He tried his door, but the snow was packed around it. Reaching across the seat, he tried the passenger side. Same problem.

As he sat back, he glanced in the rearview mirror. The rear of the SUV sat higher, the back wheels still partially up on the edge of the highway. He could see out a little of the back window where the snow hadn’t blown up on it and realized his only exit would be the hatchback.

He hit the hatchback release then climbed over the seat. In the back, he dug through the clothing he’d brought on the advice of his now “Montana” brother and pulled out the flashlight, along with the winter coat and boots he’d brought. Hurrying, he pulled them on and climbed out through the back into the blinding snowstorm, anxious to see if he could be of any help to the passengers in the wrecked vehicle.

He’d waded through deep snow for a few steps before his feet almost slipped out from under him on the icy highway. No wonder there had been accidents and the highway had closed to all but emergency traffic. The pavement under the falling snow was covered with glare ice. He was amazed he hadn’t gone off the road sooner.

Moving cautiously toward the overturned car, he snapped on his flashlight and shone it inside the vehicle, afraid of what he would find.

The driver’s seat was empty. So was the passenger seat. The driver’s air bag had activated then deflated. In the backseat, though, he saw something that made his pulse jump. A car seat was still strapped in. No baby, though.

He shined the light on the headliner, stopping when he spotted what looked like a woman’s purse. Next to it was an empty baby bottle and a smear of blood.

“Hello?” he called out, terrified for the occupants of the car. The night, blanketed by the falling snow, felt too quiet. He was used to Texas traffic and the noise of big-city Houston.

No answer. He had no idea how long ago the accident had happened. Wouldn’t the driver have had the good sense to stay nearby? Then again, maybe another vehicle had come from the other side of the highway and rescued the driver and baby. Strange, though, to just leave the car like this without trying to flag the accident.

“Hello?” He listened. He’d never heard such cold silence. It had a spooky quality that made him jumpy. Add to that this car being upside down in the middle of the highway. What if another vehicle came along right now going too fast to stop?

Walking around the car, he found the driver’s side door hanging open and bent down to look inside. More blood on the headliner. His heart began to pound even as he told himself someone must have rescued the driver and baby. At least he hoped that was what had happened. But his instincts told him different. While in the barbecue business with his brothers, he worked as a deputy sheriff in a small town outside Houston.

He reached for his cell phone. No service. As he started to straighten, a hard, cold object struck him in the back of the head. Austin Cardwell staggered from the blow and grabbed the car frame to keep from going down. The second blow caught him in the back.

He swung around to ward off another blow.

To his shock, he came face-to-face with a woman wielding a tire iron. But it was the crazed expression on her bloody face that turned his own blood to ice.


Chapter Three (#ulink_6dbb365c-4bfd-50ba-9f12-a5ed9025674c)

Austin’s head swam for a moment as he watched the woman raise the tire iron again. He’d disarmed his fair share of drunks and drugged-up attackers. Now he only took special jobs on a part-time basis, usually the investigative jobs no one else wanted.

Even with his head and back aching from the earlier blows, he reacted instinctively from years of dealing with criminals. He stepped to the side as the woman brought the tire iron down a third time. It connected with the car frame, the sound ringing out an instant before he locked an arm around her neck. With his other hand, he broke her grip on the weapon. It dropped to the ground, disappearing in the falling snow as he dragged her back against him, lifting her off her feet.

Though she was small framed, she proved to be much stronger than he’d expected. She fought as if her life depended on it.

“Settle down,” he ordered, his breath coming out as fog in the cold mountain air. “I’m trying to help you.”

His words had little effect. He was forced to capture both her wrists in his hands to keep her from striking him as he brought her around to face him.

“Listen to me,” he said, putting his face close to hers. “I’m a deputy sheriff from Texas. I’m trying to help you.”

She stared at him through the falling snow as if uncomprehending, and he wondered if the injury on her forehead, along with the trauma of the car accident, could be the problem.

“You hit your head when you wrecked your car—”

“It’s not my car.” She said the words through chattering teeth and he realized that she appeared to be on the verge of hypothermia—something else that could explain her strange behavior.

“Okay, it’s not your car. Where is the owner?”

She glanced past him, a terrified expression coming over her face.

“Did you have your baby with you?” he asked.

“I don’t have a baby.”

The car seat in the back of the vehicle and the baby bottle lying on the headliner next to her purse would indicate otherwise. He hoped, though, that she was telling the truth. He couldn’t bear the thought that the baby had come out of the car seat and was somewhere out in the snow.

He listened for a moment. He hadn’t heard a baby crying when he’d gotten out of the SUV’s hatchback. Nor had he heard one since. The falling snow blanketed everything, though, with that eerie stillness. But he had to assume even if there had been a baby, it wasn’t still alive.

He considered what to do. His SUV wasn’t coming out of that ditch without a tow truck hooked to it and her car certainly wasn’t going anywhere.

“What’s your name?” he asked her. She was shaking harder now. He had to get her to someplace warm. Neither of their vehicles was an option. If another vehicle came down this highway from either direction, there was too much of a chance they would be hit. He recalled glimpsing an old boarded-up cabin back up the highway. It wasn’t that far. “What’s your name?” he asked again.

She looked confused and on the verge of passing out on him. He feared if she did, he wouldn’t be able to carry her back to the cabin he’d seen. When he realized he wasn’t going to be able to get any information out of her, he reached back into the overturned car and snagged the strap of her purse.

The moment he let go of one of her arms, she tried to run away again and began kicking and clawing at him when he reached for her. He restrained her again, more easily this time because she was losing her motor skills due to the cold.

“We have to get you to shelter. I’m not going to hurt you. Do you understand me?” Any other time, he would have put out some sort of warning sign in case another driver came along. But he couldn’t let go of this woman for fear she would attack him again or worse, take off into the storm.

He had to get her to the cabin as quickly as possible. He wasn’t sure how badly she was hurt—just that blood was still streaming down her face from the contusion on her forehead. Loss of blood or a concussion could be the cause for her odd behavior. He’d have to restrain her and come back to flag the wreck.

Fortunately, the road was now closed to all but emergency traffic. He figured the first vehicle to come upon the wreck would be highway patrol or possibly a snowplow driver.

Feeling he had no choice but to get her out of this storm, Austin grabbed his duffel out of the back of the SUV and started to lock it, still holding on to the woman. For the first time, he took a good look at her.

She wore designer jeans, dress boots, a sweater and no coat. He realized he hadn’t seen a winter coat in the car or any snow boots. In her state of mind, she could have removed her coat and left it out in the snow.

Taking off his down coat, he put it on her even though she fought him. He put on the lighter-weight jacket he’d been wearing earlier when he’d gone off the road.

In his duffel bag, he found a pair of mittens he’d invested in before the trip and put them on her gloveless hands, then dug out a baseball cap, the only hat he had. He put it on her head of dark curly hair. The brown eyes staring out at him were wide with fear and confusion.

“You’re going to have to walk for a ways,” he said to her. She gave him a blank look. But while she appeared more subdued, he wasn’t going to trust it. “The cabin I saw from the road isn’t far.”

It wasn’t a long walk. The woman came along without a struggle. But she still seemed terrified of something. She kept looking behind her as they walked as if she feared someone was out there in the storm and would be coming after her. He could feel her body trembling through the grip he had on her arm.

Walking through the falling snow, down the middle of the deserted highway, felt surreal. The quiet, the empty highway, the two of them, strangers, at least one of them in some sort of trouble. It felt as if the world had come to an end and they were the last two people alive.

As they neared where he’d seen the cabin, he hoped his eyes hadn’t been deceiving him since he’d only gotten a glimpse through the falling snow. He quickly saw that it was probably only a summer cabin, if that. It didn’t look as if it had been used in years. Tiny and rustic, it was set back in a narrow ravine off the highway. The windows had wooden shutters on them and the front door was secured with a padlock.

They slogged through the deep snow up the ravine to the cabin as flakes whirled around them. Austin couldn’t remember ever being this cold. The woman had to be freezing since she’d been out in the cold longer than he had and her sweater had to be soaked beneath his coat.

Leading her around to the back, he found a shutter-less window next to the door. Putting his elbow through the old, thin glass, he reached inside and unlocked the door. As he shoved it open, a gust of cold, musty air rushed out.

The woman balked for a moment before he pulled her inside. The room was small, and had apparently once been a porch but was now a storage area. He was relieved to see a stack of dry split wood piled by the door leading into the cabin proper.

Opening the next door, he stepped in, dragging the woman after him. It was pitch-black inside. He dropped his duffel bag and her purse, removed the flashlight from his coat pocket and shone it around the room. An old rock fireplace, the front sooty from years of fires, stood against one wall. A menagerie of ancient furniture formed a half circle around it.

Through a door, he saw one bedroom with a double bed. In another, there were two bunk beds. The bathroom was apparently an outhouse out back. The kitchen was so small he almost missed it.

“We won’t have water or any lavatory facilities, but we’ll make do since we will have heat as soon as I get a fire going.” He looked at her, debating what to do. She couldn’t go far inside the small cabin, but she could find a weapon easy enough. He wasn’t going to chance it since his head still hurt like hell from the tire iron she’d used to try to cave in his skull. His back was sore, but that was all, fortunately.

Because of his work as a deputy sheriff, he always carried a gun and handcuffs. He put the duffel bag down on the table, unzipped it and pulled out the handcuffs.

The woman tried to pull free of him at the sight of them.

“Listen,” he said gently. “I’m only going to handcuff one of your wrists just to restrain you. I can’t trust that you won’t hurt me or yourself if I don’t.” He said all of it apologetically.

Something in his voice must have assured her because she let him lead her over to a chair in front of the fireplace. He snapped one cuff on her right wrist and the other to the frame of the heaviest chair.

She looked around the small cabin, her gaze going to the back door. The terror in her eyes made the hair on the back of his neck spike. He’d once had a girlfriend whose cat used to suddenly look at a doorway as if there were something unearthly standing in it. Austin had the same creepy feeling now and feared that this woman was as haunted as that darned cat.

With the dried wood from the back porch and some matches he found in the kitchen, he got a fire going. Just the sound of the wood crackling and the glow of the flames seemed to instantly warm the room.

He found a pan in the kitchen and, filling it with snow from outside, brought it in and placed it in front of the fire. It wasn’t long before he could dampen one end of a dish towel from the kitchen.

“I’m going to wash the blood off your face so I can see how badly you’ve been hurt, all right?”

She held still as he gently applied the wet towel. The bleeding had stopped over her eye, but it was a nasty gash. It took some searching before he found a first aid kit in one of the bedrooms and bandaged the cut as best he could.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?”

She shook her head.

“Okay,” he said with a nod. His head still ached, but the tire iron hadn’t broken the skin—only because he had a thick head of dark hair like all of the Cardwells—and a hard head to boot.

The cabin was getting warmer, but he still found an old quilt and wrapped it around her. She had stopped shaking at least. Unfortunately, she still looked confused and scared. He was pretty sure she had a concussion. But there was little he could do. He still had no cell phone coverage. Not that anyone could get to them with the wrecks and the roads the way they were.

Picking up her purse, he sat down in a chair near her. He noticed her watching him closely as he dumped the contents out on the marred wood coffee table. Coins tinkled out, several spilling onto the floor. As he picked them up, he realized several interesting things about what was—and wasn’t—in her purse.

There was a whole lot of makeup for someone who didn’t have any on. There was also no cell phone. But there was a baby’s pacifier.

He looked up at her and realized he’d made a rooky mistake. He hadn’t searched her. He’d just assumed she didn’t have a weapon like a gun or knife because she’d used a tire iron back on the highway.

Getting up, he went over to her and checked her pockets. No cell phone. But he did find a set of car keys. He frowned. That was odd since he remembered that the keys had still been in the wrecked car. The engine had died, but the lights were still on.

So what were these keys for? They appeared to have at least one key for a vehicle and another like the kind used for house doors.

“Are these your keys?” he asked, but after staring at them for a moment, she frowned and looked away.

Maybe she had been telling the truth about the car not being hers.

Sitting back down, he opened her wallet. Three singles, a five—and less than a dollar in change. Not much money for a woman on the road. Not much money dressed like she was either. Also, there were no credit cards.

But there was a driver’s license. He pulled it out and looked at the photo. The woman’s dark hair in the snapshot was shorter and curlier, but she had the same intense brown eyes. There was enough of a resemblance that he would assume this woman was Rebecca Stewart. According to the ID, she was married, lived in Helena, Montana, and was an organ donor.

“It says here that your name is Rebecca Stewart.”

“That’s not my purse.” She frowned at the bag as if she’d never seen it before.

“Then what was it doing in the car you were driving?”

She shook her head, looking more confused and scared.

“If you’re not Rebecca Stewart, then who are you?”

He saw her lower lip quiver. One large tear rolled down her cheek. “I don’t know.” When she went to wipe her tears with her free hand, he saw the diamond watch.

Reaching over, he caught her wrist. She tried to pull away, but he was much stronger than she was, and more determined. Even at a glance, he could see that the watch was expensive.

“Where did you get this?” he asked, hating that he sounded so suspicious. But the woman had a car and a purse she swore weren’t hers. It wasn’t that much of a leap to think that the watch probably wasn’t hers either.

She stared at the watch on her wrist as if she’d never seen it before. The gold band was encrusted with diamonds. Pulling it off her wrist, he turned the watch over. Just as he’d suspected, it was engraved:

To Gillian with all my love.

“Is your name Gillian?”

She remembered something, he saw it in her eyes.

“So your name is Gillian?”

She didn’t answer, but now she looked more afraid than she had before.

Austin sighed. He wasn’t going to get anything out of this woman. For all he knew, she could be lying about everything. But then again, the fear was real. It was almost palpable.

He had a sudden thought. “Why did you attack me on the highway?”

“I...I don’t know.”

A chill ran the length of his spine. He thought of how she’d kept looking back at the car as they walked to the cabin. She had thought someone was after her. “Was there someone else in the car when it rolled over?”

Her eyes widened in alarm. “In the trunk.”

He gawked at her. “There was someone in the trunk?”

She looked confused again, and even more frightened. “No.” Tears filled her eyes. “I don’t know.”

“Too bad you didn’t mention that when we were down there,” he grumbled under his breath. He couldn’t take the chance that she was telling the truth. Why someone would be in the trunk was another concern, especially if she was telling the truth about the car, the purse and apparently the baby not being hers.

He had to go back down anyway and try to put up some kind of flags to warn possible other motorists. He just hated the idea of going back out into the storm. But if there was even a chance someone was in the trunk...

Austin stared at her and reminded himself that this was probably a figment of her imagination. A delusion from the knock on her head. But given the way things weren’t adding up, he had to check.

“Don’t leave me here,” she cried as he headed for the door, her voice filled with terror.

“What are you so afraid of?” he asked, stepping back to her.

She swallowed, her gaze locked with his, and then she slowly shook her head and closed her eyes. “I don’t know.”

Austin swore under his breath. He didn’t like leaving her alone, but he had no choice. He checked to make sure the handcuff attached to the chair would hold in case she tried to go somewhere. He thought it might be just like her, in her state of mind, to get loose and take off back out into the blizzard.

“Don’t try to leave, okay? I’ll be back shortly. I promise.”

She didn’t answer, didn’t even open her eyes. Grabbing his coat, he hurried out the back door and down the steep slope to the highway. The snow lightened the dark enough that he didn’t have to use his flashlight. It was still falling in huge lacy flakes that stuck to his clothing as he hurried down the highway. He wished he’d at least taken his heavier coat from her before he’d left.

His SUV was covered with snow and barely visible. He walked past it to the overturned car, trying to make sense of all this. Someone in the trunk? He mentally kicked himself for worrying about some crazy thing a delusional woman had said.

The car was exactly as he’d left it, although the lights were starting to dim, the battery no doubt running down. He thought about turning them off, but if a car came along, the driver would have a better chance of seeing it with the lights on.

He went around to the driver’s side. The door was still open, just as he’d left it. He turned on the flashlight from his pocket and searched around for the latch on the trunk, hoping he wouldn’t have to use the key, which was still in the ignition.

Maybe it was the deputy sheriff in him, but he had a bad feeling this car might be the scene of a crime and whoever’s fingerprints were on the key might be important.

He found the latch. The trunk made a soft thunk and fell open.

Austin didn’t know what he expected to find when he walked around to the back of the car and bent down to look in. A body? Or a woman and her baby?

What had fallen out, though, was only a suitcase.

He stared at it for a moment, then knelt down and unzipped it enough to see what was inside. Clothes. Women’s clothing. No dead bodies. Nothing to be terrified of that he could see.

The bag, though, had been packed quickly, the clothes apparently just thrown in. That in itself was interesting. Nor did the clothing look expensive—unlike the diamond wristwatch the woman was wearing.

Checking the luggage tag on the bag, he saw that it was in the same name as the driver’s license he’d found in her purse. Rebecca Stewart. So if Rebecca Stewart wasn’t the woman in the cabin, then where was she? And where was the baby who went with the car seat?

He rezipped the bag and hoisted it up from the snow. Was the woman going to deny that this was her suitcase? He reminded himself that she’d thought there was someone in the trunk. The woman obviously wasn’t in her right mind.

He shone the flashlight into the trunk. His pulse quickened. Blood. He removed a glove to touch a finger to it. Dried. What the hell? There wasn’t much, but enough to cause even more concern.

Putting his glove back on, he closed the trunk and picked up the suitcase. He stopped at his rented SUV to look for something to flag the wreck, hurrying because he was worried about the woman, worried what he would find when he got back to the cabin. He was digging in the back of the SUV, when a set of headlights suddenly flashed over him.

He turned. Out of the storm came the flashing lights of a Montana highway patrol car.


Chapter Four (#ulink_9725464a-87bd-5e07-92c0-21642c79988a)

“Let me get this straight,” the patrolman said as they stood in the waiting room at the hospital. “You handcuffed her to a chair to protect her from herself?”

“Some of it was definitely for my own protection, as well. She appeared confused and scared. I couldn’t trust that she wouldn’t go for a more efficient weapon than a tire iron.”

The patrolman finished writing and closed his notebook. “Unless you want to press assault charges...that should cover it.”

Austin shook his head. “How is she?”

“The doctor is giving her liquids and keeping her for observation until we can reach her husband.”

“Her husband?” Austin thought of the hurriedly packed suitcase and recalled that she hadn’t been wearing a wedding ring.

“We tracked him down through the car registration.”

“So she is Rebecca Stewart? Her memory has returned?”

“Not yet. But I’m sure her husband will be able to clear things up.” The patrolman stood. “I have your number if we need to reach you.”

Austin stood, as well. He was clearly being dismissed and yet something kept him from turning and walking away. “She seemed...terrified when I found her. Did she say where she was headed before the crash?”

“She still seems fuzzy on that part. But she is in good hands now.” The highway patrolman turned as the doctor came down the hallway and joined them. “Mr. Cardwell is worried about your patient. I assured him she is out of danger,” the patrolman said.

The doctor nodded and introduced himself to Austin. “If it makes you feel better, there is little doubt you saved her life.”

He couldn’t help but be relieved. “Then she remembers what happened?”

“She’s still confused. That’s fairly common in a case like hers.”

The doctor didn’t say, but Austin assumed she had a concussion. Austin couldn’t explain why, but he needed to see her before he left. The highway patrolman had said they’d found her husband by way of the registration in the car, but she’d been so sure that wasn’t her car.

Nor had the highway patrolman been concerned about the baby car seat or the blood in the trunk.

“Apparently the baby is with the father,” the patrolman had told him. “As for the blood in the trunk, there was so little I’m sure there is an explanation her husband can provide.”

So why couldn’t Austin let it go? “I’d like to see her before I leave.”

“I suppose it would be fine,” the doctor said. “Her husband is expected at any time.”

Austin hurried down the hallway to the room the doctor had only exited moments before, anxious to see her before her husband arrived. He pushed on the door slowly and peered in, half fearing that she might not want to see him.

He wasn’t sure what he expected as he stepped into the room. He’d had a short sleepless night at a local motel. He had regretted not taking a straight flight to Bozeman this morning instead of flying into Idaho Falls the day before. Even as he thought it through, he reminded himself that the woman would have died last night if he hadn’t come along when he did.

Austin told himself he’d been at the right place at the right time. So why couldn’t he just let this go?

As the door closed behind him, she sat up in bed abruptly, pulling the covers up to her chin.

Her brown eyes were wide with fear. He was struck by how small she looked. Her unruly mane of curly dark hair billowed out around her pale face, making her look all the more vulnerable.

“My name’s Austin. Austin Cardwell. We met late last night after I came upon your car upside down in the middle of Highway 191.” He touched the wound on the back of his head where she’d nailed him. “You remember hitting me?”

She looked horrified at the thought, verifying what he already suspected. She didn’t remember.

“Can you tell me your name?” He’d hoped that she would be more coherent this morning, but as he watched her face, it was clear she didn’t know who she was any more than she had last night.

She seemed to search for an answer. He saw the moment when she realized she couldn’t remember anything—even who she was. Panic filled her expression. She looked toward the door behind him as if she might bolt for it.

“Don’t worry,” he said quickly. “The doctor said memory loss is pretty common in your condition.”

“My condition?”

“From the bump on your head, you hit it pretty hard in the accident.” He pointed to a spot on his own temple. She raised her hand to touch the same spot on her temple and winced.

“I don’t remember an accident.” She had pulled her arms out from under the covers. He noticed the bruises on her upper arms. They were half-moon shaped, like fingerprints—as if someone had gripped her hard. There was also a cut on her arm that he didn’t think had happened during her car accident.

She saw him staring at her arms. When she looked down and saw the bruises, she quickly put her arms under the covers again. If anything, she looked more frightened than she had earlier.

“You don’t remember losing control of your car?”

She shook her head.

“I don’t know if this helps, but the registration and proof of insurance I found in your car, along with the driver’s license I found in the purse, says your name is Rebecca Stewart,” he said, watching to see if there was any recognition in her expression.

“That isn’t my name. I would know my own name when I heard it, wouldn’t I?”

Maybe. Maybe not. “You were wearing a watch...”

“The doctor said they put it in the safe until I was ready to leave the hospital.”

“It was engraved with: ‘To Gillian with all my love.’” He saw that the words didn’t ring any bells. “Are you Gillian?”

She looked again at the door, her expression one of panic.

“Don’t worry. It will all come back to you,” he said, trying to calm her even though he knew there might always be blanks that she could never fill in if he was right and she had a concussion. He wished there was something he could say to comfort her. She looked so frightened. “Fortunately a highway patrolman came along when he did last night.”

“Patrolman?” Her words wavered and she looked even more terrified, making him wonder if he might be right and that she’d stolen the car, the purse and the watch. She’d said none of it belonged to her. Maybe she was telling the truth.

But why was she driving someone else’s car? If so, where was the car’s owner and her baby? This woman’s fear of the law seemed to indicate that something was very off here. What if this woman wasn’t who they thought she was?

“Where am I?” she asked, glancing around the hospital room.

“Didn’t the doctor tell you? You’re in the hospital.”

“I meant, where am I...?” She waved a hand to encompass more than the room.

“Oh,” he said and frowned. “Bozeman.” When that didn’t seem to register, he added, “Montana.”

One eyebrow shot up. “Montana?”

It crossed his mind that a woman who lived in Helena, Montana, wouldn’t be confused about what state she was in. Nor would she be surprised to find herself still in that state.

He reminded himself that the knock on her head could have messed up some of the wiring. Or maybe she’d been that way before.

Her gaze came back to him. She was studying him intently, sizing him up. He wondered what she saw and couldn’t help but think of his former girlfriend, Tanya, and the argument they’d had just before he’d left Texas.

“Haven’t you ever wanted more?” Tanya hadn’t looked at him. She’d been busy throwing her things into a large trash bag. When she’d moved in with him, she’d moved in gradually, bringing her belongings in piecemeal.

“I’m only going to be gone a week,” he’d said, watching her clean out the drawers in his apartment, wondering if this was it. She’d threatened to leave him enough times, but she never had. Maybe this was the time.

He had been trying to figure out how he felt about that when she’d suddenly turned toward him.

“Did you hear what I said?”

Obviously not. “What?”

“This business with your brothers...” She did her eye roll. He really hated it when she did that and she knew it. “If it isn’t something to do with Texas Boys Barbecue...”

He could have pointed out that the barbecue joint she was referring to was a multimillion-dollar business, with more than a dozen locations across Texas, and it paid for this apartment.

But he’d had a feeling that wasn’t really what this particular argument was about, so he’d said, “Your point?” even though he’d already known it.

“You’re too busy for a relationship. At least that is your excuse.”

“You knew I was busy before you moved in.”

“Ever ask yourself why your work is more important than your love life?” She hadn’t given him time to respond. “You want to know what I think? I think Austin Cardwell goes through life saving people because he’s afraid of letting himself fall in love.”

He wasn’t afraid. He just hadn’t fallen in love the way Tanya had wanted him to. “Glad we got that figured out,” he’d said.

Tanya had flared with anger. “That’s all you have to say?”

And he’d made it worse by shrugging, something he knew she hated. He hadn’t had the time or patience for this kind of talk at that moment. “Maybe we should talk about this when I get back from Montana.”

She’d shaken her head in obvious disgust. “That is so like you. Put things off and maybe the situation will right itself. You missed your own brother’s wedding and you don’t really care if they open a barbecue restaurant in Montana or not. But instead of being honest, you ignore the problem and hope it goes away until finally they force you to come to Montana. For once, I would love to see you just take a stand. Make a decision. Do something.”

“I missed my brother’s wedding because I was on a case. One that almost got me killed, you might remember.”

Tears welled in her eyes. “I remember. I stayed by your bedside for three days.”

He sighed and raked a hand through his hair. “What I do is important.”

“More important than me.” She’d stood, hands on hips, waiting.

He’d known what she wanted. A commitment. The problem was, he wasn’t ready. And right then, he’d known he would never be with Tanya.

“This is probably for the best,” he’d said, motioning to the bulging trash bag.

Tears flowing, she’d nodded. “Don’t bother to call me if and when you get back.” With that, she had grabbed up the bag and stormed to the door, stopping only long enough to hurl his apartment key at his head.

“Where are my clothes?”

Austin blinked, confused for a moment, he’d been so lost in his thoughts. He focused on the woman in the hospital bed. “You can’t leave. Your husband is on his way.”

Panic filled her expression. She tried to get out of the bed. As he moved to her bedside to stop her, he heard the door open behind him.


Chapter Five (#ulink_da776ccc-6085-507e-8748-6b42a6f50558)

Austin turned to see a large stocky man come into the room, followed by the doctor.

“Mrs. Stewart,” the doctor said as he approached her bed. “Your husband is here.”

The stocky man stopped a few feet into the room and stood frowning. For a moment, Austin thought there had been a mistake and that the man didn’t recognize the woman.

But the man wasn’t looking at his wife. He was frowning at Austin. As if the doctor’s words finally jarred him into motion, the man strode to the other side of the bed and quickly took his wife’s hand as he bent to kiss her forehead. “I was so worried about you.”

Austin watched the woman’s expression. She looked terrified, her gaze locking with his in a plea for help.

“Excuse me,” Austin said as he stepped forward. He had no idea what he planned to say, let alone do. But something was wrong here.

“I beg your pardon?” said the alleged husband, turning to look at Austin before swinging his gaze to the doctor with a who the hell is this? expression.

“This is the man who saved your wife’s life,” the doctor said and introduced Austin before getting a page that he was needed elsewhere. He excused himself and hurried out, leaving the three of them alone.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name,” Austin said.

“Marc. Marc Stewart.”

Stewart, Austin thought, remembering the name on the driver’s license in the purse he’d found in the car. “And this woman’s name is Rebecca Stewart?” he asked the husband.

“That’s right,” Marc Stewart answered in a way that dared Austin to challenge him.

As he looked to the woman in the bed, Austin noticed that she gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head. “I’m sorry, but how do we know you’re her husband?”

“Are you serious?” the man demanded, glaring across the bed at him.

“She doesn’t seem to recognize you,” he said, even though what he’d noticed was that the woman seemed terrified of the man.

Marc Stewart gave him the once-over, clearly upset. “She’s had a concussion.”

“Old habits are hard to break,” Austin said as he displayed his badge and ID to the alleged Marc Stewart. “You wouldn’t mind me asking for some identification from you, would you?”

The man looked as if he might have a coronary. At least he’d come to the right place, Austin thought, as the alleged Marc Stewart angrily pulled out his wallet and showed Austin his license.

Marc Andrew Stewart, Austin read. “There was a car seat in the back of the vehicle she was driving. Where is the baby?”

“With my mother.” A blood vessel in the man’s cheek began to throb. “Look Deputy...Cardwell, is it? I appreciate that you supposedly saved my wife’s life, but it’s time for you to butt out.”

Austin told himself he should back off, but the fear in the woman’s eyes wouldn’t let him. “She doesn’t seem to know you and she isn’t wearing a wedding ring.” He didn’t add that the woman seemed terrified and had bruises on her upper arms where someone had gotten rough with her. Not to mention the fact that when he’d told her that her husband was on his way, she’d panicked and tried to leave. Concussion or not, something was wrong with all this.

“I think you should leave,” the man said.

“If you really are her husband, it shouldn’t be hard for you to prove it,” Austin said, holding his ground—well, at least until Marc Stewart had hospital security throw him out, which wouldn’t be long, from the look on the man’s face. The woman in the bed still hadn’t uttered a word.

For a moment, Marc Stewart looked as if he was about to tell him to go to hell. But instead, he dug into his pocket angrily and produced a plain gold band that caught the light as he reached for the woman’s left hand.

“My wife left it by the sink yesterday,” Marc Stewart said by way of explanation. “She always takes it off when she does the dishes. Sometimes she forgets to put it back on.”

Austin thought, given the bruises on the woman’s upper arms, that she had probably thrown the ring at him as she took off yesterday.

When she still didn’t move to take the ring, the man snatched up her hand lying beside her on the bed and slipped the ring on her finger.

Austin watched her look down at the ring. He saw recognition fill her expression just before she began to cry.

Even from where he stood, he could see that the ring, while a little loose, fit close enough. Just as the photo ID in Rebecca Stewart’s purse looked enough like the woman on the bed. He told himself there was nothing more he could do. Clearly she was afraid of this man. But unless she spoke up...

“I guess I’ll leave you with your husband, unless there is something I should know?” Austin asked her.

“Tell the man, Rebecca,” Marc Stewart snapped. “Am I your husband?” He bent down to kiss her cheek. Austin saw him whisper something in her ear.

She closed her eyes, tears leaking from beneath dark lashes.

“We had a little argument and she took off and apparently almost got herself killed,” Marc said. “We both said and did things we regret, isn’t that right, Rebecca? Tell the man, sweetheart.”

Her eyes opened slowly. She took a ragged breath and wiped away the tears with the backs of her hands, the way a little kid would.

“Is that all there is to this?” Austin asked, watching her face. Across from him, he could see Marc gritting his teeth in fury at this interference in his life.

She nodded her head slowly, her gaze going from her husband to Austin. “Thank you, but he’s right. It was just a foolish disagreement. I will be fine now.”

* * *

FEELING LIKE A fool for getting involved in a domestic dispute, Austin headed for Cardwell Ranch. Last night, a wrecker company had pulled his rental SUV out of the ditch and brought it to the motel where he was staying. Fortunately, his skid into the ditch hadn’t done any damage.

Highway 191 was now open, the road sanded. As he drove, Austin got his first real look at the Gallatin Canyon or “the canyon” as his cousin Dana called it. From the mouth just south of Gallatin Gateway, fifty miles of winding road trailed the river in a deep cut through the mountains, almost all the way to West Yellowstone.

The drive along the Gallatin River was indeed breathtaking—a snaking strip of highway followed the Blue Ribbon trout stream up over the Continental Divide. This time of year, the Gallatin ran crystal clear under a thick cover of aquamarine ice. Dark, thick snowcapped pines grew at its edge, against a backdrop of the granite cliffs and towering pine-clad mountains.

Austin concentrated on his driving so he didn’t end up in a snowbank again. Piles of deep snow had been plowed up on each side of the road, making the highway seem even narrower, but at least traffic was light. He had to admit, it was beautiful. The sun glistening off the new snow was almost blinding in its brilliance. Overhead, a cloudless robin’s-egg-blue sky seemed vast and clearer than any air he’d ever breathed. The canyon looked like something out of a winter fairy tale.

Just before Big Sky, the canyon widened a little. He spotted a few older cabins, nothing like all the new construction he’d seen down by the mouth of the canyon. Tag had told him that the canyon had been mostly cattle and dude ranches, a few summer cabins and homes—that was, until Big Sky resort and the small town that followed at the foot of Lone Mountain.

Luxury houses had sprouted up all around the resort. Fortunately, some of the original cabins still remained and the majority of the canyon was national forest so it would always remain undeveloped. The “canyon” had remained its own little community, according to Tag.

Austin figured Tag had gotten most of his information from their cousin Dana. This was the only home she’d known and, like her stubborn relations, she apparently had no intention of ever leaving it.

While admiring the scenery on the drive, he did his best not to think about Rebecca Stewart and her husband. When he’d left her hospital room, he’d felt her gaze on him and turned at the door to look back. He’d seen her take off the ring her husband had put on her finger and grip it in her fist so tightly that her knuckles were white.

Trouble in paradise, he thought as he reached Big Sky, and none of my business. As a deputy sheriff, he’d dealt with his share of domestic disputes. Every law enforcement officer knew how dangerous they were. The best thing was to stay out of the middle of them since he’d seen both husbands and wives turn on the outsider stepping in to try to keep the peace.

Cardwell Ranch was only a few miles farther up the highway from Big Sky. But on impulse, he swung onto the road to Big Sky’s Meadow Village, where he suspected he would find the marshal’s department.

His cousin Dana’s husband, Marshal Hud Savage, waved him into his office and shook his hand. “We missed you at the wedding.” The wedding, of course, had been his brother Tag’s, to Lily McCabe, on July 4. He knew he would never live it down.

“I was hoping to get up for it, but I was on a case...” He hated that he’d missed his own brother’s wedding, but hoped at least Hud, being a lawman, would understand.

“That’s right. Deputy sheriff, is it?”

“Part-time, yes. I take on special cases.”

“As I recall, there were extenuating circumstances. You were wounded. You’re fine now?”

He nodded. He didn’t want to talk about the case that had almost gotten him killed. Nor did he want to admit that he might not still be physically a hundred percent.

“Well, have a seat,” Hud said as he settled behind his desk. “And tell me what I can do for you. I suspect this isn’t an extended family visit.”

Austin nodded and, removing his hat, sat down, comfortable at once with the marshal. “You might have heard that I got into an accident last night. My rental SUV went into the ditch.”

“I did know about that. I’m glad you weren’t hurt. We couldn’t assist because we had our hands full down here with a semi rollover.”

“I was lucky I only ended up in the ditch. What made me hit my brakes was that I came upon a vehicle upside down in the middle of the highway last night.”

Austin filled him in on the woman and everything that had happened up to leaving her about thirty minutes ago at the hospital in Bozeman.

“Sounds like she and her husband were having some marital issues,” the marshal said.

Austin nodded. “The trouble is I think it’s more than that. She had bruises on her arms.”

“Couldn’t the bruises have been caused by the accident?”

“No, these were definitely finger impressions. More than that, she seemed scared of her husband. Actually, she told me she wasn’t Rebecca Stewart, which would mean this man wasn’t her husband.” He saw skepticism in the marshal’s expression and admitted he would have felt the same way if someone had come to him with this story.

“Look,” Austin said. “It’s probably nothing, but I just have this gut feeling...”

Hud nodded, as if he understood gut feelings. “What would you like me to do?”

“First, could you run the name Marc Stewart. They’re apparently from Helena.”

“If it will relieve your mind, I’d be happy to.” The marshal moved to his computer and began to peck at the keys. A moment later, he said, “No arrests or warrants. None on Rebecca Stewart either. Other than that...”

Austin nodded.

Hud studied him. “There’s obviously something that’s still worrying you.”

He couldn’t narrow it down to just one thing. It was the small things like the older-model car Rebecca had been driving, the baby seat in the back, the woman’s adamant denial that she was Rebecca Stewart, the look of fear on her face when he’d told her that her husband was on his way to the hospital, the way she’d cried when he’d put that ring back on her finger.

Then there was that expensive diamond watch. To Gillian with all my love.

He mentioned all of this to the marshal and added, “I guess what’s really bothering me is the inconsistencies. Also she just doesn’t seem like the kind of woman who would leave her husband—let alone her baby—right before Christmas, no matter what the argument might have been about. This woman is a fighter. She wouldn’t have left her son with a man who had just gotten physical with her.”

Hud raised a brow as he leaned back in his chair. “You sure you didn’t get a little too emotionally involved?”

He laughed. “Not hardly. Haven’t you heard? I’m the Cardwell brother who never gets emotionally involved in anything. Just ask my brothers, or my former girlfriend, for that matter.” He hesitated even though common sense told him to let it go. “There’s no chance you’re going into Bozeman today, is there?”

Hud smiled. “I’ll stop by the hospital and give you a call after I talk to her and her husband.”

“Thanks. It really would relieve my mind.” Glancing at his watch, he saw he was late for a meeting with his brothers.

He swore as he hurried outside, climbed behind the wheel of his rental SUV and drove toward the small strip shopping mall in Meadow Village, all the time worrying about the woman he’d left in the hospital.

* * *

THE BUILDING WAS wood framed with stone across the front. It looked nothing like a Texas barbecue joint. As Austin climbed out of the SUV and walked through the snow toward the end unit with the Texas Boys Barbecue sign out front, he thought of their first barbecue joint.

It had been in an old small house. They’d done the barbecuing out back and packed diners in every afternoon and evening at mismatched tables and chairs to eat on paper plates. Just the smell of the wonderfully smoked meats brought people in. He and his brothers didn’t even have to advertise. Their barbecue had kept people coming back for more.

Austin missed those days, sitting out back having a cold beer after the night was over and counting their money and laughing at what a fluke it had been. They’d grown up barbecuing so it hadn’t felt like work at all.

As he pushed open the door to the building his brothers had bought, he saw by the way it was laid out that the space had started out as another restaurant. Whatever had been here, though, had been replaced with the Texas Boys Barbecue decor, a mix of rustic wood and galvanized aluminum. The fabric of the cushy red booths was the same as that on the chairs, and red-checked tablecloths covered the tables. The walls were covered with old photos of Texas family barbecues—just like in their other restaurants.

Through the pass-through he could see a gleaming kitchen at the back. Hearing his brothers—Tag, Jackson, Laramie and Hayes—visiting back there, he walked in that direction.

“Well, what do you think?” Tag asked excitedly.

Austin shrugged. “It looks fine.”

“The equipment is all new,” Jackson said. “We had to add a few things, but other than that, the remodel was mostly cosmetic.”

Austin nodded. “What happened to the restaurant that was here?”

“It didn’t serve the best barbecue in Texas,” Tag said.

“We’d hoped for a little more enthusiasm,” Laramie said.

“Sorry.”

“What about the space?” Hayes asked.

“Looks good to me.” He saw them share a glance at each other before they laughed and, almost in unison, said, “Same ol’ Austin.”

He didn’t take offense. It was actually good to see his brothers. There was no mistaking they were related either since they’d all inherited the Cardwell dark good looks. A curse and a blessing. When they were teens they used to argue over who was the ugliest. He smiled at the memory.

“Okay, we’re opening a Texas Boys Barbecue in Big Sky,” he said to them. “So buy me some lunch. I’m starved.”

They went to a small sandwich shop in the shadow of Lone Mountain in what was called Mountain Village. As hungry as he was, Austin still had trouble getting down even half of a sandwich and a bowl of soup.

During lunch, his brothers talked enthusiastically about the January 1 opening. They planned two grand openings, one on January 1 and another on July 4, since Big Sky had two distinct tourist seasons.

Apparently the entire canyon was excited about the Cardwell brothers’ brand of barbecue. His brothers Tag, Hayes and Jackson now had all made their homes in Montana. Only he and Laramie still lived in Texas, but Laramie would be flying back up for the grand opening whenever that schedule was confirmed. None of them asked if Austin would be coming back for that one. They knew him too well.

Austin only half listened, too anxious for a call from the marshal. When his cell phone finally did ring, he quickly excused himself and went out to the closed-in deck. It was freezing out here, but he didn’t want his brothers to hear. He could actually see his breath. He’d never admit it, but he couldn’t imagine why they would want to live here, as cold and nasty as winter was. Sure, it was beautiful, but he’d take Texas and the heat any day.

“I just left her hospital room,” the marshal said without preamble the moment Austin answered.

“So what do you think?”

“Apparently she has some loss of memory because of the concussion she suffered, according to her husband, which could explain some of your misgivings.”

“Did you see the bruises on her arms?”

The marshal sighed. “I did. Her husband said they’d had a disagreement before she took off. He said he’d grabbed her a little too hard, trying to keep her from leaving, afraid in her state what might happen to her. As it was, she ended up in a car wreck.”

“What does she say?”

“She doesn’t seem to recall the twenty-four hours before ending up upside down in her car in the middle of the highway—and even that is fuzzy.”

“You think she’s lying?” Austin asked, hearing something in the marshal’s voice.

Hud took his time in answering. “I think she might remember more than she’s letting on. I had some misgivings as well until Marc Stewart showed me a photograph of the four of them on his cell phone.”

“Four of them?”

“Rebecca and her sister, a woman named Gillian Cooper, Marc and the baby. In the photo, the woman in the hospital is holding the baby and Marc is standing next to her, his arm around her and her sister.”

Austin sighed. Gillian Cooper. Her sister. That could explain the watch. Maybe her sister had lent it to her. Or even given it to her.

“The doctor is releasing her tomorrow. I asked her if she wanted to return home with her husband.”

Austin figured he already knew the answer. “She said yes.”

“I also asked him to step out of the room. I then asked her if she was afraid of him. She said she wasn’t.”

So that was that, Austin thought. “Thanks for going by the hospital for me.”

“You realize there is nothing we can do if she doesn’t want to leave him,” Hud said.

Austin knew that from experience, even though he’d never understood why a woman stayed in an abusive marriage. Disconnecting, he went back into the restaurant, where his brothers were debating promotion for the new restaurant. He was in no mood for this.

“I really should get going,” he said, not that he really had anywhere to go, though he’d agreed to stay until the opening.

Christmas was only a few days away, he realized. Normally, he didn’t do much for Christmas. Since he didn’t have his own family, he always volunteered to work.

“Where are you going?” Tag asked.

“I’ve got some Christmas shopping to do.” That, at least, was true.

“Dana is planning for us all to be together on Christmas,” Tag said as if he needed reminding. “She has all kinds of plans.”

Jackson laughed. “She wants us all to try skiing or snowboarding.”

“There’s a sledding party planned on Christmas Eve behind the house on the ranch and, of course, ice skating on an inlet of the Gallatin River,” Hayes said with a laugh when he saw Austin’s expression. “You really have to experience a Montana Christmas.”

He tried to smile. Anything to make up for missing the wedding so everyone would quit bringing it up. “I can’t wait.”

They all laughed since they knew he was lying. He wasn’t ready for a Montana Christmas. He’d already been freezing his butt off and figured he’d more than experienced Montana after crashing in a ditch and almost getting killed by a woman with a tire iron. However, never let it be said he was a Scrooge. He’d go Christmas shopping. He would be merry and bright. It was only for a few days.

“You know what your problem is, Austin?” his brother Jackson said as they walked out to their vehicles.

Austin shook his head although he knew what was coming. He’d already had this discussion with Tanya in Houston.

“You can’t commit to anything,” Jackson said. “When we decided to open more Texas Boys Barbecues in Texas—”

“Yes, I’ve been told I have a problem with commitment,” he interrupted as he looked toward Lone Mountain. The peak was almost completely obscured by the falling snow. Huge lacy flakes drifted down around them. Texas barbecue in Montana? He’d thought his brothers had surely lost their minds when they had suggested it. Now he was all the more convinced.

But they’d been right about the other restaurants they’d opened across Texas. He wasn’t going to stand in their way now. But he also couldn’t get all that excited about it.

“Can you at least commit to this promotion schedule we have mapped out?” Hayes asked.

“Do what you think is best,” he said, opening the SUV door. “I’ll go along with whatever y’all decide.” His brothers didn’t look thrilled with his answer. “Isn’t that what you wanted me to say?”

“We were hoping for some enthusiasm, something,” Jackson said and frowned. “You seem to have lost interest in the business.”

“It’s not that.” It wasn’t. It was his life. At thirty-two, he was successful, a healthy, wealthy American male who could do anything he wanted. Most men his age would have given anything to be in his boots.

“He needs a woman,” Tag said and grinned.

“That’s all I need,” Austin said sarcastically under his breath and thought of Rebecca and the way she’d reacted to her husband. What kind of woman left her husband and child just before Christmas?

A terrified one, he thought. “I have to go.”

“Where did you say you were going?” Hayes asked before Austin could close his SUV door.

“There’s something I need to do.”

“I told you he needed a woman,” Tag joked.

“Dana is in Bozeman running errands, but she said to tell you that dinner is at her house tonight,” Jackson said before Austin could escape.

All the way to the hospital in Bozeman, all Austin could think about was the woman he’d rescued last night. Rescued? And then turned her over to a man who terrified her.

Austin thought of that awful old expression: she’d made her bed and now she had to lie in it.

Like hell, he thought.


Chapter Six (#ulink_57be45c9-b8f6-5b4d-8754-85cc027742c1)

When he reached the hospital, Austin was told at the nurses’ station that Mrs. Stewart had checked out already. His heart began to pound harder at the news, all his instincts telling him he had been right to come back here.

“I thought the doctor wasn’t going to release her until tomorrow?”

“Her husband talked to him and asked if she was well enough to be released. He was anxious to get her home before Christmas.”

Austin just bet he was. “He was planning to take her straight home from the hospital?” he asked and quickly added, “I have her purse.” He’d forgotten all about putting it into his duffel bag last night as the highway patrolman helped the woman down to his waiting patrol car.

“Oh, you must be the man who found her after the accident,” the nurse said, instantly warming toward him. “Let me see. I know her husband stayed at a local motel last night. I believe they were going to go there first so she could rest for a while before they left for Helena.”

“Her husband got in last night?” Austin asked in surprise. Helena was three hours away on Interstate 90.

“He arrived in the wee hours of the morning. When he came by the hospital to see his wife, he thought he’d be able to take her home then.” She smiled at how anxious the husband had apparently been. “He left the name of the motel where he would stay if there was any change in her condition,” the nurse said. “Here it is. The Pine Rest. I can call and see if they are still there.”

“No, that’s all right. I’ll run by the motel.” He realized Rebecca Stewart wouldn’t have been allowed to walk out of the hospital. One of the nurses would have taken her down to the car by wheelchair. “You don’t happen to know what Mr. Stewart was driving, do you?” She remembered the large black Suburban because it had looked brand-new.

The Pine Rest Motel sat on the east end of town on a hill. Austin spotted Marc Stewart’s Suburban at once. Austin had to wonder why Marc’s “wife” had been driving an older model car.

That didn’t surprise him as much as the lack of a baby car seat in the back of the Suburban. Marc had had the vehicle for almost a month according to the sticker in the back window. The lack of a car seat was just another one of those questions that nagged at him. Like the fact that Marc Stewart had gotten his wife out of the hospital early just to bring her to a motel in town. That made no sense unless he’d brought her there to threaten her. That Austin could believe.

The black Suburban was parked in front of motel unit number seven—the last unit at the small motel.

Austin didn’t go anywhere without his weapon. But he knew better than to go into the motel armed—let alone without a plan. He tended to wing things, following his instincts. It had gotten him this far. But it had also nearly gotten him killed last summer. He had both the physical and mental scars to prove it.

Glancing at the purse lying on the seat next to him, he wondered if all this wasn’t an overreaction on his part. Maybe it had only been an argument between husband and wife that had gotten out of control. Maybe once Rebecca Stewart’s memory returned, she wouldn’t be afraid of her husband.

Maybe.

He picked up the purse. It was imitation leather, a knockoff of a famous designer’s. He pulled out the wallet and went through it again, this time noticing the discount coupons for diapers and groceries.

He studied the woman in the photo a second time. It wasn’t a great snapshot of her, but then most driver’s license mug shots weren’t. Montana only required a driver to get a license every eight years so this photo was almost seven years old.

If it hadn’t been for the slight resemblance... He put everything back into the purse, opened the car door and stepped out into the falling snow.

Every cop knew not to get in the middle of a domestic dispute. This wasn’t like him, he thought as he walked through the storm to the door of unit number seven and knocked.

At his knock, Austin heard a scurrying sound. He knocked again. A few moments later, Marc Stewart opened the door a crack.

He frowned when he saw Austin. “Yes?”

“I’m Austin Cardwell—”

“I know who you are.” Behind the man, Austin heard a sound.

“I forgot to give Rebecca her purse,” he said.

Marc reached for it.

All his training told him to just hand the man the damned purse and walk away. It wasn’t like him to butt into someone else’s business—let alone a married couple’s, even if they had some obvious problems—when he wasn’t asked.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to give it to her myself,” he heard himself say. Behind the man, Austin caught a rustling sound.

“Look,” Marc Stewart said from between gritted teeth. “I appreciate that you found...my wife and kept her safe until I could get here, but your job is done, cowboy. So you need to back the hell off.”

Rebecca suddenly appeared at the man’s side. “Excuse my husband. He’s just upset.” She met Austin’s gaze. He tried to read it, afraid she was desperately trying to tell him something. “But Marc’s right. We’re fine now. It was very thoughtful of you to bring my purse, though.”

“Yes, thoughtful,” Marc said sarcastically and shot his wife a warning look. “You shouldn’t be up,” he snapped.

She was pale and a little unsteady on her feet, but she had a determined look on her face. Behind her, he saw her open suitcase—the same one he’d found in the overturned car’s trunk. The scene looked like any other married couple’s motel room.

Even before Marc spoke, Austin realized they were about to pack up and leave.

“We were just heading out,” Marc said.

“I won’t keep you, then,” Austin said, still holding the purse. Rebecca Stewart looked weak as she leaned into the door frame. He feared her husband had gotten her out of the hospital too soon. But that, too, was none of his business. “I didn’t want you leaving without your purse.”

“Great,” Marc said and turned to close her suitcase. “We have a long drive ahead of us, so if you’ll excuse us...” Austin stepped aside to let him pass with the suitcase. “You should tell him our good news,” he called over his shoulder.

“Good news?” Austin asked, studying the woman in the doorway. He realized that even though her suitcase had been open, she was still wearing the same clothing she’d had on last night. That realization gave him a start since there was a spot of blood on her sweater from her head injury the night before.

“We’re pregnant again,” Marc called from the side of the Suburban, where he was loading the suitcase.

Austin was watching her face. She suddenly went paler. He thought for a moment that she might faint.

“Marc, don’t—” The words came out like a plea.

“Andrew Marc, our son, is going to have a baby sister,” Marc said as if he hadn’t heard her or was ignoring her. “Isn’t that right, Rebecca? I think we’ll call her Becky.”

Austin met her gaze. “Congratulations.” He couldn’t have felt more like a fool as he handed her the purse.

She took it with trembling fingers, her eyes filling with tears. “Thank you for bringing my purse all this way.” Her fingers kneaded the cheap fabric of the bag. He saw she was again wearing the wedding band that her husband had put on her finger at the hospital. That alone should have told him how things were.

“No problem. Good luck.” He meant it since he knew in his heart she was going to need it. He started to step away when she suddenly grabbed his arm.

“Wait, I think this must be your coat,” she said and turned back into the room.

“That’s okay, you should keep it,” he said.

She returned a few moments later with the coat.

“Seriously, keep it. You need it more than I do.”

“Take the damned coat,” Marc called to him before slamming the Suburban door.

Austin shook his head at her. “Keep it. Please,” he said quietly.

Tears filled her eyes. “Thank you.” She quickly reached for his hand and pressed what felt like a scrap of paper into his palm. “For everything.” She then quickly pulled down her shirtsleeve, which had ridden up. He only got a glimpse of the fresh red mark around her wrist.

Austin sensed Marc behind him as he helped her into his coat. It swallowed her, but the December day was cold, another snowstorm threatening.

“Well, if we’ve all wished each other enough luck, it’s time to hit the road,” Marc said, joining them. “Hormones.” He sounded disgusted as he looked at his wife. “The woman is in tears half the time.” He put one arm around her roughly and reached into his pocket with the other. “Forgive my manners,” he said, pulling out a crinkled twenty. “Here, this is for your trouble.”

Austin stared down at the twenty.

Marc thrust the money at him. “Take it.” There was an underlying threatening sound in his voice. The man’s blue eyes were ice-cold.

“Please,” Rebecca said. Austin still couldn’t think of her as this man’s wife. There was pleading in her voice, in her gaze.

“Thanks,” he said as he took the money. “You really didn’t have to, though.”

Marc chuckled at that.

“Have a nice trip, then. Drive carefully.” Austin turned and walked toward his rental SUV.

Behind him, he heard Marc say, “Get in the car.”

When he turned back, she was pulling herself up into the large rig. He climbed into his own vehicle, but waited until the Suburban drove away. He caught only a glimpse of her wan face in the side window as they left. Her brown eyes were wide with more than tears. The woman seemed even more terrified.

His heart was already pounding like a war drum. That red mark around her right wrist. All his instincts told him that this was more than a bossy husband.

He tossed down the twenty and, reaching in his pocket, took out the scrap of paper she’d pressed into his palm. It appeared to be a corner of a page torn from a motel Bible. There were only four words, written in a hurried scrawl with an eyeliner pencil: “Help me. No law.”


Chapter Seven (#ulink_7e52b97f-04bc-5829-8062-8daf80564020)

Austin looked down the main street where the black Suburban had gone. If Marc Stewart was headed for Helena, he was going the wrong way.

He hesitated only a moment before he started the engine, backed up and turned onto the street.

Bozeman was one of those Western towns that had continued to grow—unlike a lot of Montana towns. In part, its popularity was because of its vibrant and busy downtown as well as being the home of Montana State University.

Austin cursed the traffic that had him stopped at every light while the black Suburban kept getting farther away. What he couldn’t understand was why Marc Stewart was headed southwest if he was anxious to get his wife home. Maybe they were going out for breakfast first.

He caught another stoplight and swore. The Suburban was way ahead and unfortunately a lot of people in Bozeman drove large rigs, which made it nearly impossible to keep the vehicle in sight. He was getting more nervous by the moment. All his instincts told him the woman hadn’t been delusional. She was in trouble.

From the beginning, she’d said the car wasn’t hers, the purse wasn’t hers and that her name wasn’t Rebecca Stewart. What if she had been telling the truth?

It was that thought that had him hitting the gas the moment the light changed. Determined not to have to stop at the next one, he sped through the yellow light and kept going. He sped through another yellow light, barely making it. But ahead, he could see the Suburban. It was headed southwest out of town.

That alone proved something, didn’t it?

But what? That Marc Stewart had lied about wanting to get his wife home to Helena as quickly as possible. What else might he be lying about? The pregnancy?

Austin used the hands-free system in the SUV to put in a call to the doctor at the hospital who’d handled the case. He knew he couldn’t ask outright about the patient’s condition. But...

Dr. Mayfield came on the line.

“Doctor, it’s Austin Cardwell. I’m the man who found Rebecca Stewart—”

“Yes, I remember you, Mr. Cardwell. What can I do for you?”

“I ended up with Mrs. Stewart’s purse after last night’s emergency.” He was counting on the doctor not knowing he’d already stopped by the hospital earlier. “I wanted to drop it by if Mrs. Stewart is up to it.”

“I’m sorry, but her husband checked her out earlier today.”

“I noticed she has prenatal vitamins in her purse when I was looking for her identification.”

A few beats of silence stretched out a little too long. “Mr. Cardwell, I’m not sure what Mrs. Stewart told you, but I’m not at liberty to discuss her condition.”

“Understood.” He’d heard the surprise in the silence before the doctor had spoken. “Oh, one more thing. I just wanted to be sure she got her watch before she left the hospital. She was worried about it.”

“Just a moment.” The doctor left the line. When he came back, he said, “Yes, her husband picked it up for her.”

Her husband picked up the watch with the name Gillian on it?

“Thank you, Doctor.” He disconnected. Ahead, he could see the black Suburban still headed west on Highway 191. Marc had lied about her being pregnant, but why?

Austin thought about calling Marshal Hud Savage, but what would he tell him? That Marc Stewart was a liar. That wasn’t illegal. Even if he told the marshal about the note the woman had passed him or about the diamond watch with the wrong name on it, Austin doubted Hud would be able to do more than he already had. Not to mention Rebecca had specified, No law.

Her name isn’t Rebecca, just as she’d said, he realized with a jolt.

It’s Gillian. Gillian Cooper. Rebecca’s sister? The thought hit him like a sledgehammer. That was the only thing she had reacted to last night other than the man who was pretending to be her husband. It was the name on the expensive watch. It was proof—

Austin groaned as he realized it proved nothing. If she was Rebecca, she could have a reason for wearing her sister’s watch. He thought of a woman he knew who wore her brother’s St. Christopher medal. Her brother had died of cancer a few years before.

So maybe there was no mystery to the watch. But the woman in that black Suburban was in trouble. She’d asked for his help. Even if she was Rebecca and Marc Stewart was her husband, she was terrified of him. Terrified enough to leave her child and run.

That was the part that just didn’t add up. Maybe Marc wouldn’t let her take the child. All this speculation was giving him a headache.

Austin saw the four-way stop ahead. The black Suburban was in the left-hand turn lane. Marc Stewart was turning south—back up the Gallatin Canyon where Austin had found her the night before. So where was he going if not taking her home?

Instead of taking the highway south, though, the Suburban pulled into the gas station at the corner. Austin slowed, hanging back as far as he could as he saw Marc pull up to a gas pump and get out. The woman climbed out as well, said something to Marc and then went inside.

Austin saw his chance and pulled behind the station. He knew he didn’t have much time since he wasn’t sure why the woman had gone into the convenience store. If he was right, the man would be watching her, afraid to let her out of his sight. All he could hope was that the Suburban’s gas tank was running low. He knew from experience that it took a long while to fill one.





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