Big Sky Standoff

Chapter Eight
Jacklyn couldn’t believe her eyes. No. For just an instant there, she’d believed Dillon, believed she’d been wrong about him, believed he really was trying to help her catch the rustlers.
What a fool she was!
“Excuse me,” she said as she spotted a man trimming a hedge that ran along one side of the ranch house. “Did you happen to notice the man who was waiting in the pickup?” She pointed to her truck.
He nodded, shoving back his hat to wipe the sweat from his forehead. “He said to tell you he’d meet you in town if he missed you.”
She raised a brow. Town was twenty miles away. Trying not to show her panic or her fury, she asked, “And how, exactly, was he planning to get back to town? Did he say?”
The man shrugged. “He said he needed to take a walk.”
Take a walk? Oh, he’d taken a walk all right. She would kill him when she found him. And she would find him.
She thanked the gardener and, hoping Shade Waters wasn’t watching, tried not to storm to the pickup. There were going to be enough people saying I told you so, starting with Waters.
As she climbed in and started the engine, she looked down the long dirt road. Empty. Just like the truck.
Still fighting panic and fury, she drove until she topped a hill and couldn’t see the ranch house anymore. Pulling over, she opened the tracking receiver terminal and started to push the on button, afraid of what she would find.
She knew Dillon Savage. Better than she wanted to. He was too smart. Too charming. Too arrogant for words. But there was something about him, something wounded that had softened her heart to him four years ago, when she’d captured him.
How could he do this? Didn’t he realize it was going to get him sent back to prison? Unless he thought he could evade her as he had for so long before.
But the only way he could do that was to disable the monitoring device or cut the thing out. If he had, she’d be lucky if she ever saw him again.
She wasn’t even thinking about her career or her anger as she turned on the receiver terminal, her heart in her throat. In those few seconds, she felt such a sense of dread and disappointment that she only got more angry—angry at feeling anything at all for this man.
Until that moment, she hadn’t realized how badly she wanted to believe in his innocence.
The steady beep from the terminal startled her. “I’ll be…” According to this, he was still on the ranch—and moving in her direction.
Or at least his monitoring device was.
If she drove on up the road, she should connect with him about a half mile from here.
Why would he head for the road, when he could have gotten lost in the mountains and led her on a wild-goose chase? One that she wouldn’t have been able to hide from her boss?
As she topped the next rise, she spotted a figure walking nonchalantly across open pasture, headed for the road. He had to have heard the pickup approaching, and yet he didn’t look up. Nor did he make any attempt to run away.
He vaulted over the barbed wire fence as she brought the truck to a dust-boiling stop next to him.
She was out of the vehicle, her hand on the butt of her pistol, before he reached the road.
“Don’t you ever do that again,” she shouted at him.
He held up both hands in surrender.
Had he grinned, she feared she would have pulled the pistol and shot him.
“I’m sorry. I couldn’t very well tell you where I was going under the circumstances,” he said contritely.
“Circumstances?”
“You were with Shade Waters, and I didn’t want him to know I was following one of his stock trucks.”
She stared at Dillon. “Why would you follow one of the Waters’s stock trucks?” she demanded suspiciously.
“To see what was going on.” He glanced up as if he heard someone coming. “Could we talk about this somewhere besides the middle of a county road?”
She sighed, torn between anger and overwhelming relief. She removed her hand from her gun butt and turned back toward the pickup. She’d left the driver’s door open. As she slid behind the wheel, he climbed in the passenger side and saw the monitoring device on the seat between them.
“Thought I’d skipped out on you, did you?” He chuckled. “So much for trust. You want me to help you catch these guys? Then you have to give me a little leeway. Keep me on too short a leash and I’m useless to you.”
She wasn’t so sure he wasn’t useless to her, anyway. “So why did you follow the stock truck?”
“I went for a little walk. Took your binoculars,” he said, handing them back to her. “Hope you don’t mind. I just happened to see a couple of ranch hands loading something into the back of a stock truck. They acted suspicious, you know? Looking around a lot. I made sure they didn’t see me, and when the truck stopped so one could open the gate, I hopped in the back.”
As she got the pickup moving, she looked over at Dillon, convinced he was either lying or crazy or both. Then she caught a whiff of his clothing and wrinkled her nose. “Let me guess what was in the back. Something dead.”
“Half-a-dozen dead calves.”
She shot him a look, the truck swerving on the gravel road. “They were probably just taking them to the dump.”
He shook his head. “They were headed north. Waters’s dump is to the south.”
“He probably has a new dump since you’ve been here,” she said irritably. “Why would you get in the truck with the dead calves?”
He lifted a brow. “Six dead calves. Doesn’t that make even you suspicious?”
Everything made her suspicious. Especially him. “Every rancher loses a few calves—”
“Six all dead at the same time? Not unless they’re sick with something.”
She glanced over at him. “What do you think killed them?”
“Lead poisoning.” He grinned at her obvious surprise. “That’s right, Jack, they each had a bullet hole right between their eyes. But that’s not the best part. They were missing a patch of hide—right where their brands should have been—and notches had been cut in their ears. You guessed it, no ear tags.”
She slammed on the brakes, bringing the truck to another jarring stop. “What are you talking about?”
He nodded, still grinning. “I knew Shade Waters was still up to no good.”
Jacklyn was shaking her head. “You went looking for trouble, didn’t you? This walk you took, you just happened along on a stock truck with six possibly rustled dead calves? Where was this?”
“A mile or so from the ranch house.”
Her brows shot up.
“I walk fast. I figured I’d be back before you finished with Waters. I told the gardener so you wouldn’t worry. I’m telling you the truth, Jack. I swear.”
She glared at him and turned back to her driving, not believing anything he said. “So who were these ranch hands?”
“I didn’t get a good look at them. When the truck started moving, I took off running, so I could jump in the back.”
“Right. But you’re sure they work for Waters?” she asked, trying to rein in her temper.
“They were on his land, driving one of his stock trucks,” Dillon said.
She could hear the steel in his voice. She shot him a suspicious look. He had to realize that all she had was his word for this, and right now her trust in him was more than a little shaky.
“And you have no idea where they were taking the calves,” she said.
“No,” he replied through gritted teeth. “North. I would assume to bury them. Look, under other circumstances, I would have stayed with that truck till the end. But I knew you’d flip if you came out and found me gone.” His gaze narrowed. “And you did.”
“I could have tracked you and the truck,” she pointed out.
“I thought of that. But I also really didn’t want every lawman in the county coming after me, ready to shoot to kill, before I got to explain that I hadn’t just taken off. Even you believed that’s what I’d done, didn’t you?”
He was right. Even if she’d had faith that he wouldn’t run off, Stratton would have had a warrant out on Dillon Savage before the ink dried.
“Plus I had no weapon and was a little concerned about when the truck got to its destination,” Dillon said. “I didn’t want to end up buried with those calves. For all I knew they might have been meeting more ranch hands up the road.”
If he was telling the truth, he’d done the only thing he could do. And if so, he’d certainly made more progress than she had in the case.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “You did the right thing.” She could feel his gaze on her.
“You believe me then?”
She glanced back at him. “Let’s say I’m considering the possibility that you’re telling the truth.”
To her surprise, he laughed. “Jack, you’re killing me. But at least that’s progress.” He turned toward her. “Don’t you see, this proves what I’ve been saying. Waters is your man. He’s behind this rustling ring.”
She met his gaze, knowing he was capable of making up this whole thing to even the score with his archenemy. “You can’t be objective when it comes to Waters.”
“There’s a reason his ranch hasn’t been hit by the rustlers and you know it,” Dillon said.
She shook her head. All she knew was that if Dillon was behind the rustling, then by not stealing from Waters, he would make him look guilty. Just as coming up with a story about a stock truck filled with bullet-ridden calves missing their brands would do.
“You’re trying to tell me that Waters is rustling cattle from his neighbors, then killing them, cutting off the brands and ear tags and burying them? Why? He’s not even making any money, that I can see, on the deal.”
Dillon rolled his eyes. “Waters doesn’t need the money. I told you there was another motive. He’s getting something out of this, trust me.”
She shook her head. “I know you believe he was the cause of your father losing his ranch, but you have to realize there were other factors.” She saw his jaw tighten.
“I do. Dad made some business mistakes after my mother died. But ultimately, Waters wanted our ranch and he got it.”
“Exactly. He’s bought up almost all of the ranches around him, so what—”
“There are still two he wants. And with Tom Robinson gone, he’s got that one. That leaves the Harper place.”
“Reda will never sell,” Jacklyn said, remembering her visit to the Harper ranch when she was talking to local folks about the rustlers. “She hates Waters. Maybe worse than you do.”
Dillon lifted a brow. “We’ll see. Tom said he’d never sell, either. Jack, we have to get on Waters’s ranch and find out where they’re taking those calves. You want evidence? It’s on the W Bar.”
“And what do you suggest I do? Trespass? Waters has already said he won’t have us on his ranch.”
Dillon grinned. “We need to make Waters think we aren’t anywhere near his ranch.”
“If you’re suggesting—”
“You have to make sure everyone believes you’ve gotten a new lead and will be to the south, nowhere near the W Bar.”
She shook her head. “Stratton would never let me do that.”
“That’s why you have to tell him you got a tip that the Murray ranch is going to be hit.”
“Lie?” Jacklyn fought the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. “Are you trying to set me up?” she asked, her voice little more than a whisper.
Dillon didn’t answer. She looked over at him and saw anger as hard as granite in his blue eyes. “Waters is your man. You want to catch the rustlers?”
She couldn’t even acknowledge that with a response.
“When are you going to trust me? I’ll tell you what. Let’s put something on it. A small wager.”
“I don’t want your money.”
“Don’t worry, you won’t get it. No, I was thinking of something more fun.”
She shot him a warning look.
“A dance. If I’m right, you’ll owe me a dance.”
“And if you’re wrong and it turns out you’re involved with this rustling ring?” she asked, studying him as she headed for Lewistown.
He grinned. “Then I’ll be back in prison. What do you have to lose? One dance. Deal?”
Was he that sure she’d never prove he was involved? Or was he really innocent—this time? “Deal,” she said, ninety-nine percent certain she would never be dancing with Dillon Savage, and a little sad about it.
“So are you going to take my advice?” he said as they shook on their bet.
Not a chance. Waters didn’t want her on his ranch. She’d have to get a warrant to go there and she had no evidence to get Stratton to go along with it, not to mention a judge.
“There’s a meeting of the ranchers this evening in town,” she said noncommittally. “Let’s see how that goes.”

REDA HARPER CHECKED the time on the dash of her pickup as she cut across her pasture, opened a gate posted with No Trespassing signs and, thumbing her nose at Waters and his W Bar Ranch, drove along what once had been a section road between his spread and the Savage Ranch.
The road had long since grown over with weeds, but Reda was in one of her moods, and when she got like this, she just flat-out refused to drive past the W Bar ranch house. She not only didn’t want to see Shade Waters, she also didn’t want him seeing her.
As she drove, darkness settled in, forcing her to turn on her headlights. The last thing she wanted was to be caught trespassing on Shade’s land. Her own fault. As it would be if she was late for the meeting Shade Waters had called about the rustling problem.
“If you’re late, it’s your own blamed fault for being so stubborn,” she told herself as her pickup jostled along. “You should have taken the main road. Shade is probably already in town, anyway. Damn foolish woman.”
On the other hand, it aggravated her that she had to take the back roads to town to avoid seeing Shade Waters. Just the thought of him angered her. She would blame him if she got caught trespassing on his land. But then, she blamed him for most everything that had happened to her in the last forty years.
She blamed herself for being a fool in the first place. What had she ever seen in Shade? Sure, he’d been handsome back then. Hell, downright charming when he’d wanted to be.
She swore at even the thought of him. It still made her sick to think about it. She hated to admit she could have been so stupid. Shade Waters had played her. Tempting her with sweet words and deeds, then reeling her in. His professed love for her nothing more than an attempt to take her ranch.
But in the end, she’d outfoxed him, she reminded herself.
As she came over a rise in the road, she saw a light flicker ahead, off to her left. She frowned as the light flashed off, pitching the terrain back into darkness—but not before her headlights had caught a stock truck pulling behind a rock bluff a good twenty yards inside the fence line.
There was nothing on this road for miles. Nothing but sagebrush and rock. Shade didn’t run cattle up here. Never had. Too close to the badlands. Too hard to round ’em all up. Not to mention he had so much land he didn’t need to pasture his cattle in the vicinity.
So what would a stock truck be doing up here? As far as she knew, no one used this road. Hadn’t since Waters bought the Savage Ranch.
She slowed. In her headlights, she could see where the truck had trampled the grass as it drove back between the bluffs. How odd.
Reda powered down her window, pulling the pickup to a stop to stare out. The night was black. No moon. The stars muted by wisps of clouds. She couldn’t see a damn thing. If she hadn’t seen the light, she would never have known there was a truck out there among the rocks.
What had her curiosity going was the way the truck had disappeared, as if the driver didn’t want to be seen.
The air that wafted in the window was warm and scented with dust and sage. She listened. Not a sound. And yet she’d seen the light. Knew there was a truck in there somewhere.
She felt a cold chill and shuddered as a thought struck her. Whoever was there hadn’t expected anyone on this road tonight. The driver had turned out the lights when he’d seen her come flying over the rise. For some reason he hadn’t heard her approaching.
Whatever he was doing, he didn’t want a witness.
Reda knew, probably better than anyone in four counties, what Waters was capable of. But she had a feeling this wasn’t his doing.
On a sudden impulse, she reached for the gearshift and the button to power up her window, telling herself she wanted no part of whatever was going on.
But as the window started to glide upward, she heard a sound behind her pickup, like the scuff of a boot sole on a rock.
Her foot tromped down on the gas pedal. The tires spat dirt and chunks of grass as she took off, her blood pounding in her ears, her hands shaking.
When she glanced into her rearview mirror, she saw the black outline of a man standing in the middle of the road.
He’d been right behind her truck.
She was shaking so hard she had trouble digging her cell phone from her purse while keeping the pickup on the road between the fence posts.
Was it possible he was one of the rustlers?
Her cell phone display read No Service. She swore and tossed the phone back into her purse. Worthless thing. She only used the damn gadget to call from town to the ranch. Only place she could get any reception.
She glanced behind her again, afraid she’d see lights. Or worse, the dark silhouette of a stock truck chasing her without its headlights on.
But the road behind her was empty.
She drove as fast as she dared, telling herself she had to notify someone. Not Shade Waters, even though it was his property. It would be a cold day in hell if she ever spoke to him again.
No, she’d drive straight to the meeting. Sheriff McCray would be there. She’d tell him what she’d seen.
Her pulse began to slow as she checked her mirror again and saw no one following her. Even in the dark, she would have been able to see the huge shape of a stock truck on the road. She was pretty darn sure she could outrun a cattle truck.
As she swung into the packed lot at the community center, she felt a little calmer. More rational.
Maybe it had been rustlers. Maybe not. Shade Waters was the only rancher who hadn’t lost cattle to that band of thieves she’d been hearing about. It made sense that the rustlers had finally gotten around to stealing some of his livestock.
Except that Waters wasn’t running any cattle in that area.
Reda parked and headed for the meeting. As she pushed open the door to the community center, the first man she saw was Sheriff Claude McCray. She started to rush to him, her mouth already open as she prepared to tell him about what she’d seen on the road.
But then she saw the man he was deep in conversation with: Shade Waters. Their heads were together as if they were cooking up something.
Her mouth snapped shut, the words gone like dead leaves blowing away in the wind. She walked past both men, her head held high. The sheriff didn’t seem to notice her, but Shade Waters did.
She could feel his gaze on her, as intense and burning as a laser beam. She waltzed right on past without even a twinge of guilt. She hoped the rustlers cleaned Shade Waters out. Hell, she wished she had stopped and helped them.

ON THE DRIVE BACK to Lewistown, Jack had seemed lost in thought, which was just fine with Dillon. He tried not to think about Waters or the fact that Jack didn’t believe him. Those problems aside, he couldn’t get Morgan Landers off his mind—or the fact that she was apparently now with Nate Waters.
Jack stopped by the hospital to see how Tom Robinson was doing, and Dillon went in with her even though he hated to. The last time he’d been in a hospital was after his father’s heart attack.
The moment he walked in, he was hit by the smell. It took him back instantly, filling him with grief and guilt. His father would have been only fifty-eight now, young by today’s standards, if he had lived. If Shade Waters hadn’t killed him as surely as if he’d held a gun to his head.
Tom was still unconscious. His recovery didn’t look good, which meant that the chances of him identifying the rustlers wasn’t good, either.
Dillon could see the effect that had on Jack. She’d been counting on a break in the rustling case. As they left the hospital, he could feel her anger and frustration.
“Would you please stop looking at me as if I was the one who put Tom in that hospital bed?” Dillon said as she drove back toward the motel.
“Aren’t you?”
He groaned. “Jack, I’m telling you I have nothing to do with this bunch of rustlers. You’ve got to believe that.” But of course, she didn’t have to.
She shot him a quizzical look. Clearly, she didn’t believe anything he said.
“How can I convince you?” he asked. “We already know who the rustler is, but you don’t believe that, either. I told you what we have to do to catch him, except you aren’t willing to do that. So what else can I say?” He shook his head.
“Don’t you find it interesting that some of your old friends are working ranches around here?” she asked.
So she’d been thinking about some of the cowboys he’d run around with: Pete Barclay, Buford Cole, Arlen Dubois.
“Former friends,” he said. “We haven’t been close for years. A lifetime ago.”
“I know for a fact that Buford Cole came to visit you in prison.”
It shouldn’t have taken him by surprise, but it did. Of course she would have checked to see who his visitors had been during his four years at Montana State Prison.
“Buford and I used to be close,” he admitted. “He only came that one time. I haven’t heard from him since.”
“What about Pete Barclay?”
Dillon chuckled. “Yeah, he came to visit me in prison several times.”
“He works for Waters.”
“I’m aware of that. You want to know why he came to see me?” Dillon asked. “To deliver threats from his boss about when I got out.”
She swung her gaze to him. “Is that true?”
“I told you I don’t lie.”
“Right. How could I forget?” She pulled into the motel parking lot and glanced at her watch. “We have to get to the ranchers’ meeting. I just need to change.” She settled her gaze on him. “Maybe you shouldn’t go. You could stay in the motel room. You’d be monitored the whole time, of course.”
“Of course,” he said disagreeably. He hated to be reminded of how little freedom he had. Or how little trust she had in him. Not that he could blame her. He hated being constantly watched. But that was the deal, wasn’t it?
“I’m going with you,” he said, meeting her gaze head-on.
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“I’m not afraid of any of them, and I have nothing to hide.”
She gave him one of her rock-hard looks, as if nothing could move her.
“Jack, come on. You think I have that much control over everything that is happening now?” He couldn’t help but smile and shake his head. “You give me too much credit.”
“On the contrary. I think you are capable of just about anything you set your mind to.”
He made a face, recognizing his own words to her earlier. “That almost sounded like a compliment,” he joked. “So you got me out of prison thinking you’d give me enough rope that I’d hang myself? That’s it, isn’t it?” He saw that he’d hit too close to home, and chuckled at her expression.
“If not you, then who?” she demanded. “And don’t tell me Shade Waters.” She cocked an eyebrow at him, her eyes the color of gunmetal. There was a pleading in her expression. “Whoever is leading this band of rustlers is too good at this. Is it possible there is someone who’s even better than the great Dillon Savage?”
He shrugged, but admitted to himself that she had a point. Waters was a lot of things, but what did he know about rustling? Whoever was leading the ring knew what he was doing. But if it wasn’t Shade Waters, was it someone who worked for him?