Page 29 of Declan (Men of Clifton, Montana #53)

Declan sat in the church pew next to Rawley, Deacon and Ava Anderson, and Jack and Randi Lawrence. This was the last place he wanted to be, but he didn’t want to miss Nate and Markie’s wedding.

As he sat there, he saw Nate and his best man, Rafe Marshall walking out of a door, and took their places at the altar.

Declan chuckled when Rafe pulled at the collar of his shirt, then the music started and everyone stood to see Sydney Wright walking down the aisle in a beautiful purple dress, then Markie appeared.

A vision in white with a veil covering her face, but as she got closer, Declan saw tears on her cheeks and a beautiful smile on her face.

He grinned as he saw the flowers she held shaking, but she didn’t miss a step as she made her way to her future husband.

Declan heard Nate tell her she was beautiful, as he lifted her veil, kissed her, then lowered it back down.

“I didn’t say you could do that yet, Nathanial,” the priest said, making the guests laugh.

After the wedding, everyone gathered at Dewey’s Bar. Scarlett and Noah Conway closed the bar to allow only the wedding party and guests inside. They supplied the drinks and Sloane James supplied finger food for everyone. She’d also made the wedding cake.

Declan took a seat at the bar, holding a whiskey when he felt someone sit beside him, and he turned to see his cousin, Jaxon, sitting on the stool.

“Hey, Jax.”

“Declan, it was a beautiful wedding, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, just like yours and Presley’s. Where is your beautiful wife, anyway?”

Jaxon chuckled. “She’s over there by the wall with Willa, Priscilla, and Lucy. I’m sure they’re up to no good.”

“Surely, not,” Declan teased.

“What’s been going on with you?”

“Just working.”

“What about Elise?”

Declan set his glass down and looked at his cousin. “How do you know about her?”

“Please, between Hartland, Spring City, and Clifton, nothing gets past anyone. Is she coming back?”

“It doesn’t look like it.”

“Then go get her.”

“It’s not that simple—”

“Sure, it is. I went after Presley. Devin went after Willa, and Roark went after Priscilla. You do what you have to do.”

Declan shook his head. “It’s her dream to be in New York.”

“Declan, you love her. If she wants to be in New York, then you need to be there with her.”

“I’ll think about it,” he said as he lifted his glass to his lips.

Jaxon laughed. “Yeah, you will.”

Declan shrugged. His cousin knew him well.

Declan wasn’t going to New York. It just wasn’t for him.

He knew a lot of people who would love to live there, but he wasn’t one of them.

As he’d told Rawley, he’d never fit in that world.

He was Montana born and bred and as much as he missed her, he knew it was for the best. He also knew he’d never stop missing her or loving her.

“Are you and Presley ready for Christmas?”

“Presley has all her shopping done. I haven’t even started.”

“There’s less than three weeks, Jax. You need to get busy.”

“Hell, we haven’t gotten a tree yet. Usually, Presley has it up and decorated by the day after Thanksgiving.”

“I don’t have one yet either. Looks like I’ll be heading to Nick’s farm soon.”

“Yeah, I’m hoping to get there tomorrow.”

Declan downed his drink, set the glass on the bar, and slapped Jaxon on the back.

“I’m heading home. Tell Presley hello for me.”

“You know, going home won’t get Elise out of your head.”

“Looks like I’ll have to learn to live with that.” He touched the brim of his hat, got off the stool and strode through the crowd, to tell Markie and Nate that he was leaving.

He looked around to find them and laughed when he saw them alone at the back of the bar, then made his way toward them, getting stopped several times by people he knew.

When Markie saw him approaching them, a beautiful smile lit up her face.

“Hey, you two, I just wanted to tell you that I’m heading out.”

“So soon?” Markie asked as she smiled.

“I want to get going before the weather gets worse. You just had to have a December wedding,” Declan teased.

“Better than an outside wedding in mid-August,” she said.

Declan chuckled. “Too true.” He turned to Nate, then shook his hand. “It was a beautiful wedding. I wish you both the best.

“Thanks, Declan. We’re happy,” Nate said as he shook Declan’s hand.

“I can tell.” He turned toward Markie. “You look beautiful.”

He almost grinned when she blushed as Nate slipped his arm around her waist.

“She looks beautiful every day.” Nate kissed Markie’s temple.

“I’m sure she does. I just don’t understand how she ended up with you.”

Nate and Markie laughed.

“I gave him a run for his money,” Markie said.

“Keep him on his toes. I’ll see you both soon. Congratulations.”

Snow swirled all around him so thick that he couldn’t see across the street. He just wanted to get home, make a fire in the hearth and relax.

The following Monday evening, Declan steered his cruiser along Copper Ridge, the low winter sun glinting off the freshly plowed roadway.

Declan had spent most of his Sunday using the bulldozer to move snow around his property.

He exhaled a sigh of relief that the county crews had finally cleared the drifts from this notorious stretch.

Every curve here seemed to whisper danger, and no matter how insistently Sam and Sheriff Grayson Beckett complained about it, and had pressed the mayor at town meetings, nothing had changed.

As he rounded a sharp bend hemmed by towering pines, headlights flared directly in his lane.

Instinctively he lay on the horn. The shrill blast echoed off tree trunks, startling the oncoming driver into a frantic swerve.

The other car’s tires skidded and slid, fishtailing through ice before plunging into the snowbank along the roadside.

“Son of a bitch,” Declan murmured, as he pulled the cruiser onto the shoulder of the road, reached for the door handle and placed his hat on his head.

He stepped out into the bitter air, crunchy snow scattering under his boots.

His jaw dropped when he spotted the door opening and Johnston fell onto the ground.

He pushed himself up using the car, then stared at Declan, and folded his arms.

“Put your hands on top of your head and interlock your fingers,” Declan snapped. “You’re under arrest for DUI.”

But Johnston didn’t obey him at all. He stood leaning against the car with a smirk on his face. “You can’t know I’ve been drinking.”

“I can see the liquor bottles in your car from here, Johnston. Not only that, but you don’t have a valid license. Put your hands on your head and interlock your fingers. Now.”

When Johnston pushed off the car, Declan quickly removed his weapon and pointed it at him.

“You gonna shoot me, Cavanaugh?” Johnston slurred.

“Nothing would give me more pleasure. Put your fucking hands on your head. I won’t tell you again.”

Johnston laughed. “Good, then I don’t have to listen to you.” He took a few steps forward until he was close to Declan and he smelled of alcohol. “How about you put that gun away and we settle this man to man.”

“You can barely stand. It wouldn’t be a fair fight, that’s for sure.”

“For you or me? Because I am not afraid of you,” Johnston shouted as he stepped closer.

Before Declan knew what was happening, Johnston jumped on him, knocking him to the ground and punching him twice in the face.

Declan rolled Johnston off him, got to his feet and watched as Johnston got to his, then Declan threw his fist, hitting Johnston and knocking him onto the ground, but he got up and ran to his car.

Declan watched as he reached inside and pulled something out, but he couldn’t make out what it was, so he pulled his firearm, then Johnston ran through the snow and into the woods.

“Stop!” Declan bellowed; his voice sharp enough to cut the cold.

But Johnston disappeared among the trees.

Snow muffled his retreat, but a fresh track of footprints led deeper into the pine thicket.

“I have no idea why you would run, you dumbass. I not only know you, I know where you live,” Declan muttered.

Declan ran across the road to open the cruiser’s back door and clipped a heavy leather leash to Tank’s thick collar. The Rottweiler snarled and strained, his hot breath steaming in the frigid air.

“Come on, boy. I’ve had it with this son of a bitch.”

Tank lunged forward, claws scraping ice, but Declan kept him in check. They crossed to the ditch where the other car’s headlights glowed dimly in the snow and checked to make sure there was no one else inside. Declan cleared his throat and called into the silent trees.

“Johnston, come out with your hands up, or I’ll let the dog loose and you will get bit.”

Silence answered him. Tank’s hackles rose, a low growl rumbling from his chest.

He followed Johnston’s footprints in a single file, pausing every few yards to issue another warning. “Come out now, or I’ll let the dog go.” Each time, Tank jerked against the leash, a bundle of coiled muscle and excitement.

The wind whipped needles of snow through the branches overhead. Declan’s cheeks stung with cold. He raised his radio to call dispatch. “Need backup on Copper Ridge. Suspect on foot in heavy woods.”

Within minutes, distant sirens cut through the hush, growing louder as an SUV cruiser came to a halt on the plowed shoulder. Deputy Nevada Shelton stepped out; his sheepskin coat getting dusted in snow as he strode toward him.

“Hey, Nevada,” Declan said.

“Declan. What’s the situation?” Nevada asked, scanning the forest edge.

Declan briefed him. Johnston’s reckless driving, previous DUI convictions, and how he ended up in the ditch, then the flight into the woods.

“It looks like he hit you. Did he?”

“Yeah, he jumped me. He’s drunk.”

“So, his license was suspended and he’s driving without it,” Nevada said, nodding. “Tank’s itching to get him, huh?”