River justice, p.1
River Justice, page 1
Praise for the novels of B.J. Daniels
“The new Powder River series is a must for Daniels fans and romantic suspense fans.”
—Fresh Fiction on Dark Side of the River
“Filled with twists, danger, action, secrets, family dynamics, and romance.”
—Comfy Chair Books on Her Brand of Justice
“Daniels is a perennial favorite, and I might go as far as to label her the cowboy whisperer.”
—BookPage
“Super read by an excellent writer. Recommended!”
—Linda Lael Miller, #1 New York Times bestselling author, on Renegade’s Pride
“B.J. Daniels has [the] unique ability to astound with her mystery and suspense.”
—Under the Covers Book Blog
Also by B.J. Daniels
Powder River
Dark Side of the River
River Strong
Harlequin Intrigue
A Colt Brothers Investigation
Her Brand of Justice
Set Up in the City
Christmas Ransom
Sticking to Her Guns
Murder Gone Cold
New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author B.J. Daniels lives in Montana with her husband, Parker, and three springer spaniels. When not writing, she quilts, boats and plays tennis. Contact her at bjdaniels.com, or on Facebook or Twitter @bjdanielsauthor.
Look for B.J. Daniels’s next novel
River Wild
available soon from Canary Street Press.
For additional books by B.J. Daniels, visit her website, bjdaniels.com.
BJ Daniels
River Justice
This book is dedicated to my thirteen-year-old granddaughter Payton. We recently spent hours at a bazaar together, visiting and eating sweet treats her grams had made (not me). Payton is an avid reader who loves books. She reminds me of me when I was that age in so many ways. This one is for you, Payton.
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER ONE
THE ENVELOPE LOOKED harmless enough. Plain, white, legal-size, with rancher Holden McKenna’s name and address printed neatly in the center. No forwarding address. No stamp or postmark. But Holden didn’t notice. His mind wasn’t on the mail that Elaine, the family housekeeper, had picked up from the large mailbox a half mile up on the county road from the McKenna Ranch and brought unopened to the house as she did every weekday.
He’d found the pile stacked on his desk when he’d come back from his morning horseback ride. As usual, there was a lot of mail to deal with, all part of running a ranch the size of the McKenna spread in the Powder River Basin.
As he sliced through the envelope with his letter opener, he thought about the woman he’d lost but still loved, Charlotte Stafford, his neighboring rancher. The two of them had been estranged for years and often involved in all-out war. Still, this morning he felt something he hadn’t in a very long time—hope. Because of that, he wasn’t feeling his fifty-five years. He felt like that young buck who’d fallen head over heels for her when they were teenagers. The thought made him smile.
Part of his good mood could also have had something to do with the fact that it was finally summer in Montana after a long, cold, snowy winter. An array of wildflowers bobbed in the breeze, birds warbled from the tops of the dark-leafed cottonwoods, and sunshine poured in the ranch house windows with a promise of warmth—at least for a while. After all, this was Montana, and summer was the shortest season of all.
But he knew that the main reason he was smiling was Lottie, as he’d always called Charlotte. The last time he’d seen her, she hadn’t gone for her bullwhip or her gun when she saw him. True, she’d been grieving over her eldest son’s arrest, but she’d let him hold her. He saw that as progress.
He wasn’t completely delusional. He knew it was improbable that he and Lottie could ever find their way back to each other, but he could dream, couldn’t he? Not that anyone in the town of Powder Crossing would bet on the two of them ever finding peace, let alone some kind of romantic bliss. Their rivalry was now carved deep in the basin’s history because of his betrayal and Lottie’s determination to hate him until she died.
“I’m going to pick up Holly Jo from school since they’re getting out early today,” his housekeeper said, sticking her head into his den and startling him out of his reverie. “Last day of school for the summer.”
He blinked, uncomprehending for a moment. He’d been so lost in thought that he’d forgotten even the envelope he was holding in his hand—not to mention the stack of mail still sitting unopened.
“Holden?” Elaine said as she dropped her hand to her hip and gave him that chastising look he knew so well. A few years younger than him, she’d been with the ranch as far back as he could remember. Her mother had originally been in the ranch’s employ, so Elaine had grown up here on the McKenna spread. She was much more than the housekeeper. He didn’t know what he would do without her.
“Holden, seriously? You don’t remember last night, the conversation at dinner about the big birthday trip? The one Holly Jo has been talking about for weeks? I guess you also don’t remember that I’m picking her up from school and we’re going shopping in Billings, staying at the Northern Hotel, making a weekend of it?”
“Right,” he said as it came back to him. “Her promised thirteenth birthday present. She’s redecorating her room.” Before he’d brought the girl to the ranch, Elaine had done the then-twelve-year-old Holly Jo’s room in pinks. A mistake. She’d hated it even more than the ranch. “I’d forgotten it was this weekend. Any idea what she’s planning to do with the room? Given the way she dresses, I hate to think what her idea of decorating will be.”
“She’s thirteen going on thirty. You told her she could do anything she wanted,” Elaine reminded him.
“I did, didn’t I.” He nodded, aware that he had no business raising a teenage girl at his age. But years ago, he’d promised her mother that if anything happened to her, he would take care of her daughter. Neither thought it would come to that. But after a bout with cancer, Holly Jo’s mother had died, and he’d brought the city girl back to the ranch. She hadn’t been happy about it any more than his grown children had.
Fortunately, Holly Jo had taken to the horses—at first planning to run away once she’d learned to ride. But later his son Cooper and friend and ranch hand Pickett Hanson had introduced her to trick riding, something even he could see she was excelling in. He hoped her wanting to redecorate her room was an indication that she was here to stay.
Elaine looked at the pile of mail he hadn’t gotten through. “Is everything all right?”
“Just got caught up woolgathering,” he said, not about to admit that he’d been thinking about Lottie. She was seldom far from his thoughts, but this morning more than ever.
“Uh-huh,” Elaine said. Unfortunately, she knew him too well, so she’d probably guessed the path his thoughts had taken. She’d always encouraged him to try to mend his relationship with Lottie. He had tried over the years but to no avail. If Charlotte Stafford was anything, it was stubborn to a fault.
What he hated most was that because of him, his Lottie had become bitter, resentful and outright vindictive—not just about him but his entire family. Recently his son Cooper had fallen in love and married Lottie’s eldest daughter, Tilly, throwing even more fuel on the fire.
Still standing in the doorway, Elaine looked worried about leaving him. “If you’re sure you’ll be all right without us.”
“I’ll be fine. It isn’t like I’m here alone.” The house was bursting at the seams right now. Cooper and Tilly were living in the huge, sprawling house while their home on the ranch was being finished. His sons Treyton and Duffy and daughter Bailey also lived in the house—though he hardly ever saw them—along with himself, Holly Jo and Elaine. As his children had grown, he’d added on, giving them all room to grow. The ranch manager had his own place closer to the stables and shop. The half-dozen ranch hands also living on the spread had a series of bunkhouses and cabins even farther from the house.
“We’ll be back Sunday evening. You can call if you need me,” Elaine said.
He would always need her. He’d often gone to her for advice as well as a good chewing out for something he’d done
“Go, have fun. And do your best to guide her choices,” he said.
Elaine laughed at that. “Have you met this young woman?” Her expression turned serious again, as if still hesitant about leaving him, before she said, “Okay. See you Sunday, then.”
Over the years, he’d given Elaine and his family cause for concern, he thought as he heard her drive away. He’d brought Holly Jo into their home with no real explanation, causing his eldest son, Treyton, to resent the girl and Bailey to simply ignore her. He’d done so many things wrong in his life, handled things poorly, and continued to make mistakes.
Glancing out the window at the beautiful early summer day, he felt a little of his hope slip away as he felt a chill. Like someone was walking across a grave? His second wife, Lulabelle, would have said it was an omen. But then again, if Lulabelle really could see the future like she claimed, then she would have never married him.
Still, he was eerily aware of how quiet this side of the big house was with his family all busy living their own lives. With a sigh, he returned to the envelope in his hand.
His thoughts scattered, he absently withdrew a sheet of paper. Unfolding it, he felt a jolt as he saw what was on it. For a moment, he could only stare in confusion. The words had been made from letters cut from a magazine and were all different sizes, shapes and colors.
Was this some kind of joke?
He struggled to read what it said. Then, in horror, he read it again. His hands trembled, the words blurring as his heart pounded, his mouth gone dry.
I Have Holly Jo
Will Contact
With Demands
CHAPTER TWO
BRAND STAFFORD STEPPED out of the shower and reached for a towel. His head swam, making him regret last night. How much had he drunk? He couldn’t remember. Judging by how hungover and sick to his stomach he was, way too much.
What had possessed him? Oh, that’s right, he thought, giving himself a mental forehead slap. I found out that my whole life has been a lie.
Not that he hadn’t suspected as much. Little had he realized, though, that knowing the truth was so much worse than speculating. His own fault, he thought with a curse. If he’d never sent his DNA to be tested... It had been impulsive, something so not like him. He was the rational, calm, sensible, unemotional Stafford among a houseful of the opposite, he told himself.
Then, like kicking off an avalanche, he’d initiated something that he couldn’t stop. Once he’d seen the results, he’d been determined to find out if his suspicions were true. The moment he did that, he opened a Pandora’s box of secrets that could destroy his life and ruin others as well.
He swore as he wrapped a towel around his waist and stepped deeper into his bedroom suite. Like a lot of ranch homes, this house had been added on to as the family had grown. He had his own wing in the back of the house with a view of the mountains in the distance. Not that he noticed the view today. He was too busy mentally kicking himself for what he’d done.
For way too long, he’d pretended that he didn’t want to know why he was so different from his siblings. Not only did he not want to buy into his suspicions, he definitely did not want to prove them. Then his sister Oakley, the rebel of the family, had gotten her DNA tested through one of the online labs. She’d gone on about how easy it was. “Just mail in a sample and the results are emailed to you.”
When Oakley had mentioned what she’d done to their mother, Charlotte Stafford had thrown a fit. “Why would you do such a thing?” she’d demanded.
“I wanted to know who I am,” Oakley had said, brushing it off as nothing. “DNA’s amazing. Like if CJ, Brand, Ryder and Tilly all had theirs tested, even though we’re siblings, the results would be different because we only share fifty percent of the same genes. Only identical twins share a hundred percent. Don’t you find that interesting?”
Brand had. And he’d found their mother’s overreaction even more curious. She’d been furious—and something even more telling. She’d been terrified. He’d seen it in her emerald green eyes and the way she wouldn’t meet his blue-eyed gaze—the only blue eyes in the family.
He’d known right then that he had to have his DNA tested. He couldn’t keep pretending. He had to know the truth. He’d sent for the kit, followed the instructions and mailed it in. Unlike Oakley, he’d had no intention of telling their mother. Even then, he was still hoping he was wrong.
But when it came back, he had proof that he wasn’t Rake Stafford’s son, because his results were nothing like the ones Oakley had left lying around in her room.
For years he’d heard the rumors about his mother and their ranch neighbor, Holden McKenna. His sister Tilly had married Cooper McKenna, so he figured he should be able to get a hair sample from Cooper’s comb. It would be nice to cross off at least one suspect from his list—his main suspect.
With the DNA obtained from Cooper McKenna, he’d had another test done to compare with his own. That was when he’d confirmed it. He was the son of Charlotte Stafford and Holden McKenna—and he had a DNA report to prove it.
His mother and Holden—both married to others at the time—had gotten together and he was the result. He had the goods on both of them, which raised the question: Now what? He had proof, but what was he going to do with it? Confront his mother? Confront Holden? Did he want his father to admit it? His mother? Or should he bury what he’d learned and live with it just as he had for all these years?
Yesterday, after getting the results, he’d done what any red-blooded American cowboy would do—he’d gone drinking with friends in town. Something else he seldom did. He hadn’t told anyone why he was drinking so much. But he’d consumed enough alcohol that one friend had insisted on driving him home while another friend followed in his pickup.
While he had a copy of the results in his jacket pocket, he hadn’t even told his best friends.
They were worried about him before he’d done something even more out of character. On impulse, he’d had his friend stop at Holden McKenna’s mailbox out on the county road. He’d scribbled Holden’s name on the outside of the sheet of paper and dropped off the copy of the DNA report he’d been carrying around all night.
When he’d awakened just before noon today, he’d realized with a sickening roll of his stomach that there was no way to retrieve the report from the mailbox. By now, the mail would have been delivered, and someone from the McKenna Ranch would have taken it up to the house.
The thought of what he’d done made him more physically ill than the hangover. His timing couldn’t have been worse. His mother’s second husband’s remains had recently been found in a well not that far from the ranch. It was no secret in the county that she was the number one suspect—if not the only one—because of her tumultuous relationship with her second husband, Dixon Malone, who had mysteriously disappeared years ago.
On top of that, his older brother CJ—and their mother’s once favorite—was in jail awaiting trial on numerous felonies, including attempted murder and second-degree manslaughter. Their mother had already alienated both of his sisters, Tilly and Oakley, leaving only himself and his younger brother, Ryder, still at home on the ranch.
This was definitely not the time to drop his bombshell on her and the man she’d openly despised for years. Brand, clearly the product of a secret affair, didn’t want this getting out. His family was the talk of the county enough as it was, one reason he and Ryder had always kept a low profile. They’d worked the ranch, avoiding the drama that was often going on up at the house—or in town.
As he started toward his bedroom closet, he caught a glimpse of movement outside. He stepped to his window in time to see a figure creeping along the side of the house, headed for the stables. Her back was to him, but as hungover as he was, he could still tell it was a young, shapely woman. Her head of long black hair fell almost to her shapely behind, a behind tucked nicely into a pair of jeans.
Clearly, she was sneaking around looking for something. He frowned, not sure he was up to dealing with a thief, given his hangover. But he realized he was probably the only one not off working somewhere on the ranch or in town today—other than this trespasser.
