Page 33 of River Justice (Powder River #3)

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

T HE F OURTH OF J ULY party was Holden’s idea. “I think we’re due a celebration after everything that has happened.”

Elaine looked skeptical. “It’s just that...” She shook her head. “Why not? You’re right.” Just as Holden had suspected, Elaine had gotten off with a fine, time served in jail and community service. Charlotte had gotten a lesser sentence and had been able to leave the county. Or maybe she’d left the country. Holden didn’t know.

When former Stafford Ranch manager Boyle Wilson had heard that Charlotte had been exonerated, he’d been furious and began to talk. While telling everything he knew about her, he’d mistakenly dug his own grave by admitting that he’d overheard her on the phone and beat her to the McKenna Ranch. There he found Dixon—bleeding but alive.

He thought he finally had Charlotte where he wanted her—but only if Dixon was dead. He couldn’t stand the man as it was, so he’d shot him, thinking that he would plant the .22 at her house if she ever crossed him—or, worse, tried to fire him.

“We could do it over Fourth of July weekend,” Holden said, determined to start over. “I’ll buy lots of fireworks.” She made a face. “Maybe not too many, given that we’ve just moved into the new house after the other one burned down.”

He changed the subject, the fire and how they’d almost lost Holly Jo still too fresh on everyone’s mind. “You haven’t heard from Charlotte, have you?” She shook her head. “I feel bad about how I left things the last time I saw her. If you hear from her...”

“I’ll tell her you want to at least talk to her. How would that be?”

He smiled. “Thank you. I’m not doing this in the hope of bringing Charlotte back to Powder Crossing. It’s a chance to bring the families together. To put the animosity to rest.”

She cocked her head at him. “One word. Treyton. ”

“Yes, he won’t attend the party, I’m sure. Hell, Bailey might not even show up, and Duffy’s down in Wyoming. Cooper and Tilly will come, though. Pickett and Oakley, too. Maybe you should see if Holly Jo would like to invite a few friends.” Again, Elaine looked skeptical, but said she would ask. “Ryder will probably come, don’t you think? Be sure and invite Deacon, too.” He saw her face heat for a moment. “I’m delighted that you two have—”

Her look made him choke back whatever else he’d planned to say.

“I’ll invite everyone,” she said as she started to walk toward the kitchen. “Let’s leave it at that.”

“Why is it that my love life has always been fair game?” Holden said under his breath, but loud enough that she could hear.

She didn’t take the bait, and he was almost relieved. The truth was, he didn’t have a love life and hadn’t for years. Who was he kidding? He was lonely and missed Lottie like a lost limb. He’d give anything if she showed up for the party, but he knew better than to hold out hope.

B RAND HAD NEVER been this nervous in his life. He’d decided to ask Birdie to marry him at the Fourth of July party at McKenna Ranch.

As fireworks exploded all around them, he looked over at Birdie, instantly charmed by her expression. She was staring upward, eyes wide in awe, as if she’d never seen anything like this before. Maybe she hadn’t. Holden had gone all out, even though Brand had heard that Elaine had tried to dissuade him from buying too many.

All Brand knew was that he wanted to snatch a star out of the sky and give it to Birdie. Anything to see that wonder in her eyes when she looked at him.

She glanced over at him, her gaze softened in the lights bursting around them. He felt anchored to the spot as she reached out to cup his cheek, before she leaned in and kissed him. Drawing back, she whispered, “Thank you.”

He had no idea what he’d done other than invite her to the party—just that he wanted to do whatever it took to make her happy for the rest of his life. He pulled her to him. “Let’s take a walk.” He held her hand, and they wandered away from the barbecue area some distance from the new house and into the darkness of the thick cottonwoods along the Powder River.

Drawing her to a stop, he pulled her close and said, “I don’t want you to leave.” He rushed on before she could speak. “I know I probably wouldn’t be your grandmother’s choice for you, but I...I...” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “I love you. Marry me, Birdie Malone. Make me the happiest cowboy this side of Chicago.”

She looked so serious for a moment that he feared she would turn him down. “You’re wrong. Nana would have loved you, Brand. Just like I do.”

Sweeping her up in his arms, he kissed her hard, then drew back to just look at her as he slowly lowered her to the ground. After his mother’s disastrous relationships, he’d had no plans to ever marry. But then again, he’d never been in love before. He’d never handed over his heart, not sure it wouldn’t get crushed or that he might never get it back.

“I love you,” he said again. “Heaven help me, but I love you more than my next breath. So, was that a yes?”

Birdie laughed. “You sure about what you’re getting into?”

“Not in the least,” he said and laughed, too. “But I can’t wait to find out. There’s never a dull moment with you, Birdie Malone. It should be one hell of a ride.”

“Then yes. I’ll marry you. Saddle up, cowboy. This is going to be fun.”

T HE SHERIFF HAD been invited to the big shindig out at McKenna Ranch. Holden himself had called with the invitation.

“I don’t think I ever thanked you for saving my life,” the rancher said. “Thank you. You’re a good sheriff. Better than your father.”

The compliment had taken him by surprise in more than one way. His father had been kind of a legend in the Powder River Basin. “Thank you, Holden. But I’m afraid I can’t make the party unless I have to break up a fight or haul someone off to jail.”

The rancher had laughed. “I understand.”

Stuart had thought about it, but the Fourth usually came with its own challenges for law enforcement. He was back to just two deputies and couldn’t leave them alone tonight.

He leaned back in his office chair as he finished the last of the paperwork on Boyle Wilson’s confession to killing Dixon Malone. Wilson had been transferred to the Billings detention center. Still exhausted from everything that had happened, Stuart couldn’t have felt more relieved—or surprised—to finally be able to wrap up the case. Holly Jo was home, Holden McKenna was going to live, and Darius Reed was no longer a threat.

From the ashes of the McKenna Ranch house, a new structure had emerged. “It will be bigger and better than before,” Holden had said, and Stuart had heard it was. The fire had to have destroyed a lot of memories since it was the original portion of the homestead that had burned—the part Holden’s grandfather had built more than a hundred years ago.

Holden, though, had seemed to have taken it in his stride, as if almost glad to have some of those memories gone. Stuart wondered where that left Charlotte, who’d exited town after paying her fine for helping Elaine dispose of Dixon’s body.

Charlotte and Holden were just full of surprises, like offering her house until Holden’s was rebuilt—and Holden accepting—let alone her leaving town. No one seemed to know where she’d gone or if she’d be back.

His cell rang. “A woman’s been mugged right outside the bar.” He recognized the voice of the female bartender, Patty LaFrance, who worked the night shift at the Wild Horse. “She didn’t want me to call you, but I think you’d better come down here. It’s Bailey McKenna. A couple of cowboys ran after the person who attacked her.”

That sounded like trouble. Holden had good reason to worry about his daughter, it seemed. “I’ll be right there.”

A few minutes later, he pushed open the door into the bar and saw Bailey in a booth with Patty, who was clucking over her like a mother hen.

When Bailey saw him, she rolled her eyes. “I told her not to call you. I’m fine and I didn’t get a good look at the guy, so no point.”

She didn’t look fine, Stuart thought. She was holding a bloodstained cloth to her temple. He could also see that her hand holding the cloth was trembling. As he took her in, he saw that her arm was also scraped, the sleeve of her blouse torn. But it was what he found in her blue eyes that told him she wasn’t as fine as she was trying to get everyone to believe. She was scared, a look he’d seldom seen—if ever—on her face before.

Bailey McKenna was fearless, stubbornly independent and secretive. The sheriff had been wondering for some time what was going on with her.

“What happened?” he asked as he slid into the booth across from her.

“It was nothing,” Bailey said, eliciting a rude response from Patty.

“It’s something,” the bartender said as she opened the first aid kit on the table in front of her. She pulled Bailey’s hand and the cloth away to press a bandage over the wound.

“Thank you, Clara Barton,” she said pointedly to the bartender. “I’m fine .” Patty mugged a face and, taking her first aid kit, went back to her real job behind the bar.

“Okay, we’re alone now,” Stuart said. “What happened?”

Bailey met his gaze and seemed to relax. She even forced a smile. He wasn’t buying that she was fine, and she must have realized it, because she looked away and said, “I don’t know what happened.”

“You don’t remember?”

She rolled her eyes again. “I don’t have a concussion or amnesia. It just happened so fast. I was leaving. I crashed into someone.”

“He tried to take her purse,” Patty called from behind the bar. “She was lying in the doorway, determined not to let him take it, and him just as determined to get it away from her—even if he had to drag her out into the street.”

Bailey groaned. “It wasn’t that dramatic.”

“Did you get a look at him?” She shook her head. He turned to the bar. “You get a good look at him, Patty?”

“Wearing one of those damned hoodies. Plus, that front light out there is worthless, even if he wasn’t doing his best to stay out of it,” the bartender called back.

He looked to Bailey again. Her large purse was on the table next to her. He knew she carried it everywhere. “Mind if I have a look in your bag?” He reached to look inside, but her hand dropped over his to stop him.

“He didn’t get anything. My wallet is inside. I already checked.”

“What about your phone?”

“He didn’t get it.”

“Your laptop’s in there too, isn’t it?”

“It’s fine. Everything is fine.” She picked up the purse and swung it onto her shoulder with a grimace.

“You sure you shouldn’t have a doctor look you over?”

“Yes, I’m sure. I’m a little sore, that’s all.” She met his gaze again. “I’m fine.”

He nodded, studying her. Her blue eyes were deep as a bottomless well. There was more to the story, and she knew that he knew it. “Wish I knew what’s going on with you,” he said quietly so Patty and the rest of the people in the bar couldn’t hear. “But if you ever want to be honest with me, you know where I live.”

That made her smile. “There’s nothing going on,” she clearly lied. “But if there ever is, I’ll stop by again.” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “I’ve missed you.”

He shook his head, rose and walked away while he could. He feared the day would come when he could no longer walk away from Bailey—either because he’d finally admitted how he felt about her or because whatever trouble she was neck-deep in had gotten them both killed.

At the bar door, he turned to look back. Just as he’d suspected, she was watching him leave, the fear in her eyes almost as glaring as her stubbornness. He hated to think how scared she’d have to be to come to him not just with the truth—but for help.

He hoped she didn’t wait too long.