Dark Side of the River, page 2
“Shot in the back. It definitely happened on your property,” the sheriff said. “So far, I have no idea what she was doing there. We’re going to be treating the ranch as a crime scene, which means I need to get men in there.”
“Of course. How is she doing?”
“Serious condition.”
That was when he’d heard something in the sheriff’s voice and had waited for the other shoe to drop. “Cooper found her.”
Cooper? He’d thought at first that he’d heard wrong. Cooper, his son who’d been gone for more than two years? “My deputy is bringing him in for questioning. I wanted you to know before it’s all over the county.”
“Wait—why is Cooper being brought in for questioning?” He felt that other shoe drop.
“He was the first on the scene. Don’t worry. I’ll get it sorted out.”
Holden felt his stomach roil. Cooper had found her on his way to the ranch? He felt as if he was having trouble keeping up. It had been the second troubling call he’d gotten today.
“I don’t have all the details yet. I just thought you’d want to know since it happened on your ranch.”
He wanted to assure the sheriff that no one on the ranch had shot her. Not to mention Cooper, the one who’d apparently found her, Holden thought. But there would be plenty of time to deny accountability before this was over. “Yes, thank you, Stu, for letting me know.”
“I called earlier and talked to Treyton. He said you were on a call. I wasn’t sure if you got my message, so I called back.”
He hadn’t gotten the message. Just before he’d taken the sheriff’s call, he’d seen Treyton take off in one of the ranch pickups driving too fast. He’d wondered what that was about. Now he knew. The question was whether his hair-trigger eldest son had taken off because of Oakley Stafford’s shooting. Or because the sheriff had told him that Cooper was back in town?
Holden rubbed his temples. “Has Charlotte Stafford been notified?”
“I called, but Mrs. Stafford was out on a ride. Talked to CJ.” The tone of his voice said what they both knew. Chisum Jase Stafford was a lot like Treyton, a hothead who needed little to set him off. Stu didn’t have to warn him that CJ could be paying him a visit before the day was over.
Holden was less worried about CJ than he was about his own son. Cooper was back after all this time? He had to wonder why, even as he felt such a wash of emotion. He’d hoped and prayed that Cooper would return. Was he home to stay?
His thoughts quickly turned to Oakley, then her mother, Charlotte Stafford, as his thoughts often did. She would have to be told.
* * *
SHERIFF STUART “STU” LAYTON was as blond as Cooper was dark. The two of them had grown up together. Close to the same age, they’d been in the same grade in the small rural school for years. Cooper couldn’t remember when they’d become best friends. There were rough times over the years when they’d fought over ball games or girls, but they’d lasted as friends. Stu had always had his back—even in the worst times.
Deputy Dodson had insisted on hauling Cooper into town in the back of his patrol SUV. The town of Powder Crossing hadn’t changed much since he’d left two years before, he noticed. It was a typical small Montana town, but back in its day it was a stage stop for travelers from Deadwood to Miles City.
Back then, there was the Belle Creek Hotel, still standing today, but little else. Now Powder Crossing had a community church, a café, a bar, a grocery and a convenience store that sold gas out front and muck boots, overalls, rope and feed in the back. The hotel had its own restaurant that served drinks and bar food, and a part-time post office.
Along with a sheriff’s department, the town had a small community hospital, with a couple of nurses and one semiretired doctor. For serious injuries, patients were flown to Miles City or Billings. Oakley had been taken to the local hospital. Doc Joe Hammond had taken care of his share of gunshot wounds over the years, along with delivering babies and mending broken bones. Residents of the county trusted him more than those big-city doctors who they swore charged an arm and a leg.
Cooper figured Oakley was in good hands, although her mother might not agree. He wouldn’t have been surprised if Charlotte Stafford had her daughter flown to Billings.
After repeating everything that he’d already told Deputy Dodson about what had happened, the sheriff said, “Oakley didn’t say anything else before she passed out but the word buttercup?”
That was the one thing that Cooper had left out of what he’d told Deputy Dodson. “She seemed worried about her horse.”
The sheriff nodded. “Knowing Oakley, makes sense. Sorry about Deputy Dodson. He’s new.”
“Not that new. He seemed to know a lot about the McKennas and Staffords,” Cooper said, but let it ride. He was still angry about being forced to leave his truck, give up his guns and being driven to the sheriff’s department in the back of a patrol SUV half naked—just short of being arrested. He’d been told in the past that he had a chip on his shoulder. Something about a cop uniform always set him on edge. Probably because he’d had enough run-ins with the law in the past to last him a lifetime.
“I really could use a shirt from my pickup,” he said.
Stu reached for his phone. “I’ll have someone get you something to wear. I’ve seen more than enough of that six-pack of yours. Been doing some physical labor, have you?”
“Construction. Can I also have my phone back?”
The sheriff slid it over to him. “We’re going to have to hang on to your guns.” At Cooper’s surprised and displeased look, he added, “It’s procedure. I’ll get them back to you as soon as I can.”
“I took photos of the scene, something Deputy Dodson failed to do,” he said, and opened his phone and called up the shots he’d taken.
“You took photos?” Stu looked concerned as he took the phone and thumbed through the shots. “Why?”
“Well, I didn’t do it because I thought it would make me look guilty of anything,” Cooper snapped. “But yes, I was covering my ass. I just had a bad feeling, even before your deputy started harassing me. It isn’t like I haven’t been here before. And now a Stafford was shot on the McKenna Ranch and I’m the one who found her?” He shook his head. “You think I don’t know how bad that looks no matter how innocent I am or my family?”
His friend leaned back in his chair and studied him openly. “It’s yet to be determined if your family is innocent. Have you met your brother Treyton?” He raised a hand before Cooper could argue. “What are you doing back here?”
He knew his friend didn’t mean the sheriff’s office. The truth? He didn’t really understand what had brought him back to Powder Crossing. Just a need for something he couldn’t put his finger on, an ache he couldn’t define. “Seemed like it was time to come home.”
The sheriff nodded, still studying him. “Have anything to do with this latest war between the families?”
“Which war is that? I’ve lost track.”
“You really don’t know about the latest developments?”
He shook his head. He hadn’t been in touch with his family or anyone else in the Powder River Basin. He’d tried to put the past behind him. Problem was, he was a McKenna, something he’d realized he could never outrun no matter how far away he went, since family was in his blood.
“The Staffords drilled a coalbed methane well close to the property line between your ranches. Your father is suing, claiming the well dried up his artesian well near the property boundary.” The Powder River Basin was well-known for being the single largest source of coal mined in the country. It was said to contain one of the largest deposits of coal in the world. But methane drilling was something relatively new.
He remembered that there’d been drilling twenty years ago. “Has methane become that big of a deal here again?” Cooper asked. He knew a little about it. The gas traveled with groundwater in coal seams. Extracting it required drilling a well and pumping out the water. That was where the trouble came in. All that water, millions of gallons, pumped to the surface, emptied aquifers and dumped the used water, now high in salt content, into the rivers and agricultural land.
“It’s pitted families against each other for years,” the sheriff said. “The thing is, it’s used in everything now from fertilizers and gas cookers to cars, ovens, water heaters...” Stuart shrugged. “So, a lot more wells have been going in around here. The Staffords and the McKennas aren’t the only ones fighting over the issue.”
Cooper sighed. “It’s always something. Will always be something.”
“And now Oakley Stafford was shot on the McKenna Ranch.” Stuart sat forward, leaning his elbows on his desk. “You really have no idea what she was doing there or why someone shot her?”
He shook his head. “I just got back to town.” But he knew that if a Stafford was caught on the ranch, one of the ranch hands or his brother Treyton could have done something stupid like chasing her and even taking a potshot at her. He figured Stu suspected the same thing.
“If she dies...” The sheriff didn’t have to finish; they both knew what would happen. The county would see a McKenna-Stafford war like nothing before. The situation was a powder keg even now, and Cooper, as his luck would have it, was right in the middle of it because he’d been the one to almost accidentally run over her.
He got to his feet as a deputy handed him a shirt through the open doorway. “Am I free to go?” he asked, as he dressed.
His friend rose. “Your pickup has been searched, anything of interest taken. It’s parked in the lot out back, keys in it.”
“‘Anything of interest’?” Cooper swore. “I’m sure you’ll provide a list of what was taken.” He shook his head. “You know I didn’t shoot her.” He could see that didn’t matter.
“Going to have to hang on to the guns until we get forensics back on the slug I heard they removed from Oakley. Just trying to cover all the bases. You should thank me. I’m also covering your backside.”
He knew that was true. Stu was following protocol and just trying to clear him as a suspect. There would be talk as soon as everyone heard that a McKenna found her coming out of his family’s ranch land.
“How is she?”
“Came out of the surgery. Still in serious condition, but stable. If you hadn’t come along when you did, she’d be dead. There is that.”
“Right.” He thought about Oakley’s sister, Tilly, and hated to think what she and the rest of the Stafford family were going through right now. He and Tilly were close enough in age that they’d competed at every fair and rodeo as far back as he could remember. He recalled with embarrassment all the times she’d outridden him, outshot him and even out-pig-wrestled him. He found himself smiling at the memory. She was as competitive as he was.
“So you’re sticking around?” Stu asked as Cooper started to leave.
“Are you telling me not to leave town?”
He smiled. “Just wondering what your plans were. Thought we might have a beer sometime. It’s been too long.”
Cooper felt himself relax a little. He’d had the kind of day that had his shoulder muscles so tight they ached. “Sounds great,” he said, returning the sheriff’s smile. “I’ll let you know my plans. At this point, I’m not sure where I’ll even be staying.”
“It’s like that?”
Cooper laughed. “It’s always like that with my family, you know that.”
“Maybe this time will be different,” Stu offered.
“Right,” he said with a laugh as the office door was flung open and his older brother, Treyton, came storming in.
* * *
TREYTON STOPPED IN the middle of the room, his gaze riveted on his younger brother. “So it’s true. You’re really back?” He shook his head. “You’re just walking trouble, aren’t you?”
Cooper sighed. “Good to see you too, Trey. Talk to you later, Stu.” Behind him, he heard the sheriff telling Treyton to sit and calm down. He heard Treyton yelling something about vandalism and trespassers on the ranch. He couldn’t wait to get out of there. He was in no mood to deal with his brother. He’d already been having second thoughts about his choice to return.
Now he was thinking he’d made a mistake. Why not pack up his truck and hit the road? He found his pickup parked behind the sheriff’s department, an old stucco building with a matching auto shop behind it. The keys were in it, just like Stu had said. Only in Powder Crossing, he thought, where people got shot more often than vehicles got stolen.
Climbing in, he noticed his glove-box door hanging open; everything inside it had clearly been gone through. Thank you, Deputy Dodson. Same with his duffel, its contents dumped on the passenger seat. But according to the list he’d been given, only his weapons had been taken.
Gritting his teeth, he put everything back where it went, closed the glove box and tossed his duffel behind the seat. He had no idea when he’d get his guns back but couldn’t leave without them. It made him feel a little naked and more than a little uneasy. He’d grown up with a gun handy as a kid. Never knew if he’d need to kill a rattler or scare off a critter. He’d had a rifle and a handgun in his truck for as long as he could remember. The worst part was that he couldn’t shake the feeling that he would be needing a weapon and maybe soon. Whoever had shot Oakley Stafford was still out there.
As he started the engine, he thought about all the questions he’d had to answer, first with the deputy before he’d been detained. Not officially arrested, but damned close. Then with Stu. He had even more questions himself about what had happened earlier.
He sat for a moment, engine running, thinking about Oakley’s horse. Had they caught up to it? If so, had they taken it to the Stafford Ranch? He didn’t think it had been injured. He hoped not.
He knew the horse wasn’t his concern, but it had been Oakley’s. At least he’d thought that was what she’d been asking about. When she regained consciousness, he didn’t want her worrying about her horse.
Buttercup. Had to be the name of her horse. He considered calling the Stafford Ranch to find out if the mare had been returned and if there was any news on Oakley’s condition, but reconsidered. He was persona non grata, and not just because he was a McKenna. He and Tilly had gone head-to-head a few too many times. He remembered one wrestling match in the mud between the two of them when they were about nine. Not his best moment, wrestling a girl in the mud. He remembered the whooping he’d gotten when his father had found out. To make it worse, a sculptor from Billings had witnessed it and actually made a bronze sculpture of the incident.
He told himself to forget about the horse. He had bigger things to concern himself with—like facing his father after all this time, given the way he’d left.
As he started to back out, he had to throw on his brakes for the second time that day as a pickup came roaring into the parking lot. The driver apparently still hadn’t seen him as the speeding pickup swung into the space next to him. In the mood he was in, Cooper knew things could go south if he hit his horn or, worse, got out to give the driver a piece of his mind.
Fortunately, he did neither as the driver’s-side door flew open and a woman bounded out, her blond braid flying from her shoulder to trail behind her as she stormed toward the rear entrance of the sheriff’s department.
Matilda “Tilly” Stafford. He’d recognize her anywhere.
He shifted into Park and jumped out, calling after her. “Tilly?”
She’d been stalking up the walk, but now stopped. He had no doubt that she’d recognized his voice as her back stiffened before she turned around. He saw her eyes narrow, her jaw set. She headed toward him looking as if she planned to take off his head.
He held up his hands to ward her off as she charged up within a few feet of him and stopped. He could see that she was furious but also close to tears. He’d never seen her cry, although he knew there were times in competitions that she’d wanted to. The fury he’d seen before. Right now, he could see that she was struggling with both as she approached him.
Before she could speak, he asked, “Did you get Oakley’s horse back?”
She blinked as if that was the last thing she’d expected out of his mouth. “What?” she demanded impatiently.
“Oakley’s horse. The deputy wouldn’t let me go look for it and make sure the mare was all right.”
The fury won over the tears as she spit out the words. “You’re worried about her horse?”
“I’m worried about her too. But she was worried about the horse. So—”
Her eyes widened. “She talked to you?”
“No, just... I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t be bothering you with this.”
“I thought you left town. How was it that you were the one who found her?”
He shook his head. “Just dumb luck?”
The tears were about to win. She turned and rushed away as if she couldn’t deal with him right now. He couldn’t help being relieved.
But as she started away, he called after her. “What’s the name of her horse?”
Tilly stopped again, her back to him. Even from where he stood, he could see that she was vibrating with that earlier fury. He felt as if he’d poked a bear and was about to pay the price.
But to his surprise, she didn’t turn, she didn’t storm back to him. He heard her mutter, “Him and the damned horse? What is wrong with him?” Her shoulders seemed to slump for a moment before she said without turning around, “Cheyenne. Her horse’s name is Cheyenne.” She shook her head as if he was a pesky bug and disappeared into the sheriff’s department.
Cheyenne? He stared after her, frowning. Not Buttercup?
Then what the hell was Oakley trying to tell him?
