That Cold Montana Wind

That Cold Montana Wind

Adrienna Wilson

Copyright 2012 by Adrienna Wilson

Smashwords Edition

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Any likeness to anyone, living, dead, or otherwise, is purely coincidental.

To Jillian,

my editor, my friend, my support.

I know you’re going to argue about having your name in another book.

But I couldn’t have done this without you.

To all my loyal fans who have been waiting (im)patiently for the next novel.

Here you go!

To everyone who bought the first one, and encouraged me to go ahead with the next. You gals are the best!

CHAPTER ONE

For a small town bar, The Tavern attracted quite the crowd on a weekend.

This wasn’t a weekend. There were nine men and three women at the bar when Jade Taggart entered. He knew all of them by name, where they lived, who their families were, how long they’d been in town. Almost everything about them.

I remember one time we snuck up to the cabin and the old man came tearing out of that shack at us, about three dogs with him, screaming like a banshee. Like to have shit myself and we took off. One of the men at the bar was talking.

There was a round of laughs. Apparently, he’d missed part of the conversation that made sense. Jade took a seat at the bar and ordered a beer.

This one time we were hunting too close to his property line and he came riding in on this big plow horse, no saddle or anything, shotgun in his hand and yelled that he’d skin us alive if he ever caught us on his property. Scared off the deer, of course.

Who you guys tellin’ lies about now? Jade asked with a grin.

Old Man MacPhearson. You remember him?

Sure, he and my dad grew up together. What about him?

Apparently, he’s not dead after all, Deputy York put in. Standing only an inch or so shorter than Jade, thin as a rail, with rusty blond hair and blue eyes, Devlin York was the closest friend Jade had. They’d grown up being best friends, and now they were both in law enforcement.

York lifted a beer bottle. Buckshot Run Hunts is back up and operating.

Jade shook his head. No way, that business shut down years ago.

Well I got an email from a buddy of mine, Hanson interjected, and we went to this website. The four of us got a group rate, all the same time, guided hunt, private hunt, pack animals, whatever we need. Paid for and done.

You sure it’s not a scam? Jade asked over the rim of his beer.

Couldn’t be, had pictures on the site of the Old Man’s place, just like I remember it. The little cabins that the hunters stay in, all that.

Anyone could find old pictures and put them online. Jade pointed out.

True, but this was legit, I’m tellin’ ya. York argued.

I think the old man’s dead, Jade put in. Nobody’s heard from him in years. Buckshot Run’s been down for what, ten years?

York nodded, About that. Maybe he had money troubles and went and made some money.

He could have sold a couple acres of that land and made a shit ton of money. Jade grimaced. I’ll check it out tomorrow and make sure you’re not getting scammed. I just don’t think there’s any way the old man could have a program that nice after all this time. He’s old. He’s always been old. And a website? No phone calls? Back in the day, you always had to go to the house and talk to him, or call him and send cash to secure your time slots. I doubt he could have turned on a computer.

I’m sure it’s for real, York pressed. You’ll just waste your time.

Well that’s what I get paid for. Jade finished off his beer and ordered another. The county pays me to be nosy and waste my time making sure you good folks aren’t being robbed.

Appreciate it and all, York said doubtfully. But I know it’s real, and I can’t wait for hunting season to start so I can go bag me a big buck.

Sure. Jade chuckled. Just like last year.

Now that’s below the belt! York roared, rising to the bait.

Sure was a pretty little doe, too bad you got her with the truck instead of the rifle, she would have made some good steaks.

CHAPTER TWO

Four more hunters, for mid-December. Fallyn MacPhearson stood and jotted it down on the wall calendar. A few more hunters, and she could honestly declare this season a success. As it was, she’d barely break even. With what she had to pay her cousins to help her out, she’d better start writing a few more articles and make up the difference. She glanced at her reflection in the hall mirror. Brown hair pulled back into a messy bun, tanned skin, bright blue eyes, worn jeans and tank top, she looked nothing at all like the owner of a hunting camp. She was too pretty, her friends had told her, too skinny to survive a winter in Montana. But she’d done it, and soon the hunting camp would be opening. With her delicate features belying only a hint of her mother’s heritage, she more closely resembled her father. If he’d been pretty, and shaved more often, and been a woman. She laughed at herself. If Mac ever heard her comparing herself to him, he’d have a fit. He’d made sure she was everything he wasn’t. Smart, well-educated, well-dressed, well-groomed.

Miss Fallyn? Carter, in his late teens with long dark hair, a hawk nose and piercing dark eyes that spoke of his Cherokee heritage, called from the back door. The youngest of her three cousins, he was the most crazy about horses and threw himself into anything having to do with them.

On my way, she returned. She shut down the computer and grabbed her hat. She’d promised to let him help with the horses today, but there was so much work to be done on the guest cabins.

Carter was waiting on the back stoop. Somebody’s been on the property. He held out his hand, and in his palm lay a cigarette butt.

Where did you find this? She asked, picking it up to inspect it. It’s a fairly common brand. Where did you find it?

Near the barn.

Could have been one of the guys, she pointed out.

Could be. He didn’t sound convinced.

Just keep your eyes open. Fallyn wasn’t about to get her hopes up. Her father hadn’t smoked when she’d lived at home, but things changed over time.

So what now? Carter asked.

Well, let’s go finish up that cabin, then we’ll work some horses.

Yes ma’am!

Fallyn led the way with the teenager tagging along. She took a moment to admire the view. A little more work, and the fence that surrounded the valley below her home would be strong enough to turn the horses out in. Which meant that she’d be able to sit on her front porch and watch the horses run.

Both the guest cabins and her own home were fashioned after rough log cabins. The main house was much larger, and a total of three stories, with the partially in-ground bottom floor, and half loft above the main floor. The cabins were one or two bedrooms, a kitchenette and bathroom.

There were still two more cabins that had to be redone, and it was slow going with only herself and Carter. As they moved through the cleaning, Fallyn let her mind drift. It was finally starting to feel like home around here. With the cabins cleaned, she’d be ready for customers to start arriving. Summer campers or in the fall, hunters.

She looked out the window at the wide expanse of meadow. Not too long ago it had been buried in snow. Soon the wildflowers would be in full bloom. Now, if she just had someone to share it with…

CHAPTER THREE

The dirt road out to the farm was in surprisingly good shape. As he drove down the winding path, through the hills and forest, he thought back to the last time he’d been out here. One of the last trips he’d gone on with his father. They’d gone hunting, father and son, and Jade had managed to get a big buck. Only a few months later the elder Taggart was gone, dying in his sleep of a brain aneurysm.

His death had left the Taggart family with a lot of debt, and they’d wound up selling all of the land but a few acres where the house sat. Since then, Jade’s sister had moved away, and eventually his mother had gone too, leaving the house and what was left of the property to Jade. It wasn’t much. A two bedroom house, little more than a shack.

The road wound around to a small valley, and to the right, the main house. A splendid two story log cabin, with a covered porch that ran around three sides. He drove up to the house, parked beside a ramshackle Jeep pickup, and stepped out into almost complete silence.

Jade waited a long moment, listening for any sounds. Finally he heard the pop of a whip and hoof beats on soft earth. Following the sound, he circled the house and headed for the barn. To the side of the barn, some distance from the house, was a round pen.

Whatever he was expecting, it wasn’t the finely built dun horse running in the round pen, or the young woman in the center of the pen with her eyes trained intently on the horse.

She was about five and a half feet tall, dressed in knee boots, skintight jeans, and a figure-hugging tank top. She was slender, and in spite of the generous swell of hips and breasts she was almost too skinny. There was no hint of womanly softness around her middle. He would bet she had a six-pack. But her skin was well tanned a smooth brown, a saltwater tan, so she wasn’t from around here of late.

Her movements faltered when she saw him and she signaled the horse to stop.

Can I help you? She asked.

An even, confident voice, with an edge of roughness, though not in tone.

Sheriff Jade Taggart, he stepped up to the railing. Just answering a few questions.

Has there been a crime?

No, ma’am. It has just come to my attention that this residence is occupied after being vacant for a long time. Folks feel better if I make sure the right people are occupying.

Well I’m Fallyn MacPhearson. I own the place.

You’re his daughter?

Yes. I can show you the papers. Let me put the horse up. Fallyn took the lead from her shoulder and snapped it on the mare’s halter. It will only take a moment, you’re welcome to join me if you’d like.

Jade followed her, watching the gentle sway of her hips as she led the horse into the barn. After locking the horse in a roomy stall and hanging the rope on a nearby hook, she turned and gave him a once-over. He didn’t mind, after all he’d been studying her much the same.

So who said what that brought you out here? She asked, leading the way up to the house.

Heard some guys talking about hunting out here this season. They were saying they went online for everything. Figured it wasn’t the old man, he didn’t know what a computer was. But somebody could be squatting, or just scamming some hick hunters, so I moseyed out here to take a look.

Well I assure you it’s completely legitimate. My father left this property in trust, and when I turned twenty-five, it became mine completely, with enough money in his account to pay the taxes for a few years. I’ve gotten everything into shape, or most of it, and set up the website. She circled around the house, opened the front door and motioned for him to follow. She walked down a hallway and into a small room but he stayed where he was, looking around.

They’d come in to the living room, carpeted with Indian rugs and furnished with hand-built furniture and leather upholstery. There was a loft above them that covered half of the house, and looked out at the huge picture window in the front that offered an unobstructed view a wide expanse of absolutely nothing domestic. Pasture, forest, a stream, and if he looked closely he could see fences, but no people, no buildings, no roads.

Beautiful view, he remarked.

Thank you. Dad built the house intending for Mom to enjoy it. Guess they never got around to it before I came along. She came out with a folder and handed it to him with her driver’s license.

You intend to stick around? Jade asked.

I’ve been training my whole life for this, she said with a rueful smile. She crossed her arms over her chest. Business college. But all I really want is to have my horses, my land, my privacy, and everyone else can go to hell. Unfortunately, the bills do not pay themselves.

Hunting is good business, and it looks like your father has absolutely everything in order. Permits, letters, everything.

He wanted to make sure I didn’t have any problems. She accepted the folder and walked to the kitchen, which was really just part of the living room. Laying the folder on the counter, she looked back at him. Who do you know that’s coming hunting out here?

York, Hanson, and I think Dewberry is coming with them.

Ah, middle of December. Should be good hunting then.

Jade walked closer and took a seat at the bar, looking across the counter at her. Mind if I ask some questions?

You’re the sheriff, I suppose if I say no that’d look bad. She gave him a smile he couldn’t quite read.

He smiled back, broad and inviting. Purely curiosity now, the official business is over, so you can tell me to leave if you want.

She smiled again, showing even white teeth, her full lips curving delicately. Can I offer you something to drink? I’ve got some soda, or I just made some tea this morning.

A glass of tea would be nice.

Fallyn turned and opened the refrigerator, giving him time to watch her up close. She had the body of a dancer, long clean lines and sinewy muscles. Size four or so, if he was any judge. When she stretched onto tiptoe and reached for the glasses, her shirt lifted and showed him a tan strip of abs and hips. Low rise jeans with that little short zipper. The kind of jeans that could be stripped off without unfastening them if someone was in a hurry.

She set the glass in front of him and he dragged his attention back to the questions he’d been forming.

What happened to the old man?

He saw a flicker of emotion in her eyes but it was gone before he could accurately define it. She was silent for several moments and the sound of a ticking clock grew louder. He wondered if she was going to ask him to leave.

I don’t know. She answered finally.

Took you an awful long time to form that particular answer. He kept his voice conversational. Clearly he’d struck a chord, but why? If the old man was dead, then he was dead. Had she had something to do with it?

She debated for a moment then sighed. When I was seventeen I moved away to go to college. He made sure that I didn’t visit home often, but everything I could ever want was paid for. Three years ago he stopped calling, stopped writing, and the phone here was shut off. I came back to investigate. He was gone. All of his things are still here, in the bedroom downstairs. But he’s gone. Since the place is in my name, there aren’t any legal issues. I haven’t heard from him, and he hasn’t been here in years.

Any ideas?

Fallyn put her hand to her forehead and sighed. No. And I have no idea when he disappeared, so I can’t really file a missing person’s report, and is he even missing? He was always a wanderer, maybe he just moved on and forgot about me.

Do you honestly believe that?

She shrugged and reached for her glass of tea. I don’t know what to believe.

Have you talked to anyone at the department?

Three years ago. I talked to the sheriff. You must have been elected what, last year?

Yeah, I was a deputy back then. How long have you been living here?

"A year and a half now full time, off and on for most of the last four years.

Why haven’t we seen you in town?

I’ve been keeping to myself. I don’t like answering questions about Dad. Most everyone in town knows him, and they’d all be asking where he is once they find out who I am. Until I come up with a believable story, I’ll stick to the bigger towns where no one looks twice.

Don’t let them get to you. We’ve got a perfectly good market, and a hardware store. And it’d be nice to see a pretty face now and then.

She ducked her head and blushed, though he wasn’t sure why a simple compliment would embarrass her. Thank you, she murmured.

I’ll nose around and see if I can find out anything about your dad. What’s his first name? All I ever knew him as was Old Man MacPhearson, and I’m fairly certain that’s not his name.

I was fifteen before I knew he had a name other than Mac. Everyone who didn’t call him Old Man called him Mac. His real name is Everest Mitchell MacPhearson.

Jade made a mental note and took a drink of tea. You running this place all by yourself?

Oh no, I’ve got help. I have a cousin who’s doing the barn work, and I’ve got two others who are going to help this hunting season as guides and what not, I’ve made sure that we don’t get more bookings than we can handle. And there are always more cousins if I need more help.

Would I know any of them?

I don’t know, the stable boy is Carter Running Bear, my guides are Hartford and Jefferson Running Bear.

He perked up at the names. Cousins?

She nodded. Mother’s side.

What’s your mother’s name?

Lauralee Running Bear until she married my father.

And where is she?

Last I heard, up in Canada. When I was born there were complications, she couldn’t have more children, she had postpartum depression. She tried to stick it out for a while but she couldn’t handle it and Dad let her go. I haven’t talked to her in fifteen years. I don’t think she’s come to terms with everything yet.

Your father raised you?

Yes. Schooled me here at home, and I got into college with a scholarship.

Very nice.

He’s a lot more than the crazy old man everyone thinks he is.

He built this place?

And my uncles. They all used to live up here. I guess he sent them away some years ago. They won’t talk about it, and they won’t come back. My cousins have no such compunction. They’ll do just about anything for a paycheck.

So they’ll be leading the hunts?

Some. I’ll be doing most of it.

He raised his eyebrows. Really?

She smiled. "Do you think it’s something a woman shouldn’t