Epilogue
Jacklyn hesitated at the door. She could hear the band playing. Glancing at her reflection in the window, she ran a hand over her hair, feeling a little self-conscious.
Her hair was out of its braid and floating around her shoulders. She so seldom wore it down that her image in the glass looked like that of a stranger. A stranger with flushed cheeks and bright eyes. A stranger in love.
She felt like a schoolgirl as she pushed open the door to the community center. The dance was in full swing, the place crowded.
For a while there’d been shock, then sadness, then slowly, the community rallied, and pretty soon even the talk had died down. And there had been plenty of talk. The gossips kept the phone lines buzzing for weeks.
The first shock was Shade Waters’s murder, followed by the news that his son Nate had confessed not only to killing him and the others, but also to having been behind all the cattle rustling.
Buford had been one of the rustlers Nate had hired but it was suspected that Pete Barclay and Arlen Dubois were also involved. Nate took full responsibility, though, for all the deaths and thefts, posing for reporters.
Jacklyn had wondered if he’d wished his father was alive to see it. Or had Nate told Shade everything before he killed him? She would never know.
On the heels of all the publicity came word that Shade Waters had been dying of cancer and had had but a few months to live, anyway. Everyone loved the irony of that, since few people had liked either Waters much.
The community had also taken Reda’s death fairly well—especially when it came to light that she’d been blackmailing nearly half the county, including Shade Waters. For years, the sinners in the county had lived in fear of getting one of her letters, letting them know she knew their secrets and what it would take to keep her quiet.
But probably the news that had tongues wagging the most was Shade Waters’s will. He’d changed it, unknown to Nate, about the time that Nate had taken up with Morgan Landers. In the will, Shade left everything to the state except for one ranch—the former Savage Ranch. That he left to a boys’ ranch for troubled teens, in his son Halsey’s name.
“I thought you might not come,” Dillon said behind Jacklyn, making her jump as the band broke into another song.
She turned slowly, feeling downright girlie in the slinky dress and high heels. She’d even put on a little makeup.
“Wow,” he said, his blue eyes warming as he ran his fingers up her bare arms. “You look beautiful, Jack. But then I think you always look beautiful.”
She smiled, pleased, knowing it was true. Dillon liked her in jeans and boots as much as he liked her in a dress. Mostly he liked her naked.
“You know, I didn’t exactly win the bet,” he said, feigning sheepishness.
“You said Waters was guilty. True, it wasn’t the Waters you meant, but I’m not one to haggle over a bet,” she said. “I just had to wait until my ankle was healed before I could pay up.”
“Well, in that case, I guess you owe me a dance,” he said as the band broke into a slow song.
She stepped into his arms, having missed being there even for a few hours. She looked up into his handsome face, wondering how she’d gotten by as long as she had without Dillon Savage in her life. The diamond ring he’d bought her glittered on her finger, his proposal still making her warm to her toes.
He’d bought a ranch up north, near a little town called Whitehorse, Montana. “I’m thinking we’ll raise sheep. Nobody rustles sheep,” he’d joked when he showed her the deed. “And babies. Lots of babies. I promise you I’m going to make you the happiest woman in northeastern Montana.”
She’d laughed. But she was learning that Dillon Savage was good as his word. The man could dance. And he’d already made her happier than any woman in central Montana. She didn’t doubt he’d live up to all his promises.
As he spun her around the room, she thought of the babies they would have, hoping they all looked like him. Except maybe the girls.
“You sorry?” he asked, his breath tickling her ear.
“About what?” She couldn’t think of a single thing to be sorry for.
“I just thought you might be having second thoughts about settling down with me instead of chasing rustlers.”
She smiled. “Darlin’, there’s only one rustler I want to be chasing.”
“We can both stop running then. Because, Jack, you already caught him. The question now,” he said with a grin, “is what you’re going to do with him.”