Gun-Shy Bride (5 page)

“I talked to the crime lab this morning,” he said, not sounding happy about it.

She felt her heart drop. The DNA couldn’t have come back already. But Grant could have heard about the unauthorized test.

“I’ve asked them to put a rush on those remains you sent them,” Grant said.

“A rush?” she echoed. She’d thought she’d have time. Now, her undercover sleuthing aside, once the sheriff found out about the DNA test and the hunting license
she’d be lucky to still have a job. Worse, she could end up in jail.

“After what happened at the bar last night, I had to speed up the process,” Grant was saying. “Apparently Rocky, with the help of Eugene Crawford, got a bunch from out on the reservation all worked up. They’re convinced one of their ancestor’s grave has been disturbed.”

“It wasn’t an Indian grave.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive.” She wished Rocky had kept his fool mouth shut, but it was too late for that. “Along with the bones, I found shirt snaps, metal buttons off a pair of jeans and what was left of a leather belt.”

“So it was a grave,” Grant said, sounding surprised. “I thought it was just bones.”

He hadn’t asked her and he hadn’t been around when she’d mailed everything off to the crime lab. At least that was her excuse for keeping more than the hunting license from him.

His being distracted for weeks now had made it too easy. Now everything hinged on that DNA report from the crime lab.

“When you said the bones were human, I just assumed they’d been there for a while,” Grant said now. “How old are we talking?”

“Hard to say.” Remains deteriorated at different rates depending on the time of year, the weather, the soil and how deep the body was buried.

“More than fifty years?”

“Less, I’d say.”

He was silent for a long moment. “Where exactly were these bones found again?”

She told him.

He grew even quieter before he said, “Thanks for taking care of Rocky last night. We’re still holding Eugene Crawford. I understand he got into it with you. Are you all right?”

“He didn’t hurt me.”

“But he apparently grabbed you and shoved you?”

“He was drunk and looking for a fight,” she said. “I didn’t see any reason to make more of it than it was.”

Grant studied her for a moment before nodding. “Well, good job at keeping a lid on things. It could have been much worse if you hadn’t acted as quickly as you did. It wouldn’t be the first time Eugene Crawford tore up a bar.” He glanced at his watch, sighed and stood, signaling that they were finished.

McCall tried to hide her relief.

“We should have the results from the lab on those bones in a week,” Grant was saying. “In the meantime, I think it would be best if we said as little as possible about the discovery, don’t you agree?”

She did indeed. She couldn’t help but wonder how he’d feel when he found out just whose bones they really were. If he thought there was trouble now, wait until he had to deal with Pepper Winchester.

One week. When the report came back with the DNA test, all hell would break loose. She’d give up the hunting license and let the chips fall where they may. But in the meantime, she planned to make the most of it.

L
UKE GLANCED OVER AT HIS UNCLE
, worried. Buzz didn’t seem to be taking to retirement well after thirty-five
years as a Montana game warden. While he swore that he was content fishing most every day, Luke suspected he missed catching bad guys.

Buzz, who’d made a name for himself as one of the most hard-nosed game wardens in the west, had been written up in a couple of major metropolitan newspapers and magazines, helping make him a legend in these parts.

“Did Eugene get out of jail?” Luke asked into the silence that had stretched between them.

“I’m going in this afternoon to bail him out. It was the soonest they’d release him.” Buzz swore under his breath. “You know who arrested him, don’t you?” Luke felt his stomach clench. “McCall Winchester. The Winchesters have always had it in for our family.”

And vice versa, Luke thought, but was smart enough not to say it.

“Eugene said he hit you up for that money he owes for gambling debts,” his uncle said after a moment.

Was that accusation he heard in Buzz’s voice? “He needs fifty thousand dollars. I can’t raise that kind of money.”

“He asked you for that much? When he came to me it was only thirty.” Buzz swore. “He tell you anything about these guys he owes the money to?”

“No.” But Luke could imagine.

“He seems to think they won’t find him here. Or maybe he thinks we’ll protect him.” Buzz had always protected his son, to Eugene’s detriment. Luke saw there was both regret and determination in his uncle’s expression. “I don’t have the money to give him either.”

Luke wasn’t sure where this conversation was headed. “He has to stop gambling, get a job—”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Buzz snapped. “But fifty thousand? It would take him years to make that much at a job in Whitehorse. Meanwhile, these guys aren’t going to wait on their money.”

Luke shook his head, hating the desperation he heard in his uncle’s voice. Eugene would be even more desperate and probably do something crazy, knowing his cousin.

“I need to get going,” Luke said finishing his coffee and rising to take the mug back into the kitchen.

As he came back out, he heard the sound of a vehicle engine. Shielding his eyes from the sun, he saw a white pickup pull in, a sheriff’s department emblem on the side and a set of lights on top.

Luke heard his uncle swear as Deputy Sheriff McCall Winchester climbed out.

McCall had hoped to catch Buzz Crawford alone. The last person she wanted to see was Luke. But unfortunately as she pulled up to the lake house, his pickup was parked outside.

No way to make a graceful escape even if she could let the coward in her win out.

As she neared the house, she saw the two Crawford men on the deck, Luke standing as if about to leave and Buzz sprawled in a lawn chair as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

She stopped at the bottom of the stairs to the deck, shading her eyes to take in the two. It hadn’t escaped her notice last night that Luke had changed. He’d filled out, looking stronger, definitely confident and as always, handsome in an understated, very male way.

She could see that Luke didn’t like the idea of leaving her alone with his uncle given the family history. Of course he would be protective of the uncle who’d raised him and by now he would also know about his cousin’s arrest last night and who Buzz would blame.

McCall smiled to herself at the indecision she saw
in Luke’s expression. But was he afraid to leave her alone with Buzz because of his fear of what his uncle might do? Or her?

“I’d like to speak to Buzz alone,” McCall said flashing her badge. She heard Buzz curse loud enough for her to hear.

“You coming out to arrest me as well as my son?” Buzz snapped.

Luke started down the steps to the shore. As he stepped past McCall, he said under his breath, “You sure this is a good idea?”

“I can handle Buzz.” The nearness of Luke Crawford was a whole other story, she thought as he brushed on past her.

“And I can handle the deputy,” Buzz said from his lawn chair.

McCall listened to the crunch of Luke’s boot heels on the rocky shore before ascending the stairs to the deck.

Buzz was a big beefy man with ham-sized fists and a predilection for violence—much like his son Eugene. As the former county game warden, he’d made more than his share of enemies since he had a reputation for being a heartless bastard who would have arrested his own mother.

McCall had heard stories about him roughing up poachers, claiming they’d resisted arrest when they swore they hadn’t.

“What do you want?” Buzz demanded scowling at her now as he got up and went through the open door into his house.

She stepped cautiously to the doorway and peered into the dim darkness.

The place wasn’t much larger than her cabin on the river and even more sparsely furnished. The only thing on the walls other than deer and antelope mounts were framed yellowed articles from newspapers and magazines featuring Buzz when he was a game warden.

He saw her looking at the write-ups about him and chuckled. “That’s what a real officer of the law looks like,” he boasted as he poured himself a mug of coffee but he didn’t offer her one.

She saw that he’d changed since he’d left his game warden job. He wasn’t in shape anymore and he’d aged. She thought retirement wasn’t working out so well for him.

“So what brings a Winchester out to see me?” Buzz asked, glaring at her.

She smiled, wondering at this hatred between the Crawfords and Winchesters. It made no sense. Especially when aimed at her since no one in town considered her a Winchester—including the Winchester family.

“I’m here about Trace Winchester’s disappearance,” she said into the cold malevolent silence.

Buzz had started to take a drink of the hot coffee, but jerked back at her words, spilling some on the floor and burning his mouth. He swore and put down the cup.

“Your name keeps coming up in my investigation,” she said. “I was wondering why that was.”

“No mystery there,” Buzz spat. “Your old man kept breaking the law and I kept catching him.”

“How many times was that?”

He shrugged. “I lost track.”

“Really? You were the only game warden for this entire county back then. You alone had an area the size of Massachusetts to cover, from Canada to the Missouri
River Breaks. It would have been impossible to catch Trace Winchester every time he broke the law unless you made it a personal vendetta.”

“Maybe he was just stupid and got caught a lot.”

“Maybe. I guess it would depend on how many times you arrested him and for what.”

She’d checked the arrests before she’d driven out. They were public record. “Let’s see,” she said taking the list from her pocket. “Littering, trespassing, improper boat safety equipment…” She looked up. “You wrote him far more tickets than you wrote anyone else in the county.”

Buzz looked uneasy.

“It makes me wonder just what your relationship was with my father.”

“Relationship? I couldn’t stand the little—” He caught himself. “Trace Winchester was a spoiled kid who thought he was above the law. I was a law enforcement officer. You should be able to understand that.”

She nodded as she stuffed the list back into her pocket and took out her notebook and pen. “When was the last time you saw Trace?”

Buzz picked up his mug again and took a sip of coffee, letting her wait. “Hell if I know. Whatever date I ticketed his worthless ass.”

“You never saw him again? Like say the next morning?” she asked, her gaze riveted to his.

He stared right back. “That’s right.”

“You’re sure about that? You didn’t by any chance wait for him on a ridge south of town?” Was it her imagination or did she see fear contract his eyes?

“You deaf? I already told you. Quit wasting my time.”

“What exactly is your problem with the Winchester family?”

He blinked in surprise. “Why don’t you ask your mother. Or your grandmother. Oh, that’s right, Pepper disowned you.”

“Actually, I don’t think she went to the trouble.”

He sneered at that. “Your grandfather cheated my brother out of some land. Call Winchester was a crook and a liar.”

“Call’s been dead for more than forty years. What did that have to do with my mother? Or my father other than he was a Winchester and spoiled?”

“I didn’t say it had anything to do with your father.” His smile was as sharp as the filet knife lying on the counter next to him. “If you want to know what it has to do with your mother, well, I suggest you ask her.”

McCall studied Buzz for a moment, hoping he wasn’t another of her mother’s old boyfriends. “What happened to my father’s rifle?”

Buzz jerked back as if she’d taken a swing at him. “How the hell should I know? I would imagine he took if with him when he left town.”

“How is that possible? You arrested him the day before for—” she made a show pulling out her list and checking it again “—poaching an antelope before opening season. If the rifle had been used in the commission of a crime, the weapon would have been considered evidence and confiscated under the law. So you must have taken it, right?”

Buzz looked worried. “No. Maybe Trace hid it. Or
maybe I just forgot. I can’t remember. But if I had taken it, the rifle would still be locked up in evidence.”

“I checked. It’s not. Anyway, my mother swears that Trace had the rifle the next morning when he left the house to go hunting. A model 99 Savage rifle with his father’s initials carved in the stock.”

“You’d take the word of your mother?”

She studied him, feeling an icy chill at the malice she saw in his eyes.

Her mother had said Trace might have had something on Buzz he used as leverage to keep his rifle, but why the obvious hated for her mother?

“Was my father blackmailing you?”

Buzz went to slam his mug down on the counter but missed. The mug hit the floor, shattering. Coffee shot out in an arc across the tile, making a dark stain at his feet.

She saw he was shaking all over, even his voice. “Get out of my house. I’m done talking to you without my lawyer.”

McCall closed her notebook, put it and her pen away before she stepped back into the sunlight on the deck. Even the early morning sun felt good after the cold inside.

“One more thing,” she said sticking her head back into the house.

He seemed shocked she was still on his property and had the audacity to ask him another question.

“Did I mention Rocky Harrison found a human grave south of town on a high ridge from a spot where you can see the Winchester Ranch in the distance?”

Buzz didn’t move, didn’t speak, didn’t even seem to breathe. It wasn’t the reaction she’d hoped for but it was a reaction.

“What the hell does that have to do with me?” he finally demanded.

She shrugged. “When I know that, I’ll be back. Keep your lawyer’s number handy.”

L
UKE COULDN’T HELP BEING
distracted as he filed his report on the poaching incidents. Seeing McCall Winchester again had thrown him, especially since her visit to his uncle this morning had looked official and that worried him.

As he was hanging up from making his report, he got a call from a friend in the Helena Fish and Game office.

“Something going on up there with your uncle Buzz?” his friend George asked. “A deputy by the name of McCall Winchester has been looking into some of Buzz’s old cases. You know anything about this?”

Luke swore under his breath. “No, what cases are we talking about?”

“Mostly those involving a Trace Winchester. Any relation to the deputy?”

“Trace Winchester was her father. He disappeared before she was born almost thirty years ago.”

“Probably not strange then that she’s looking into those cases,” George said. “She’s probably just curious. But there were quite a few tickets issued. Her father must have been a real troublemaker.”

Luke wondered about that. He’d heard rumors about Trace Winchester but had figured the man’s exploits had been greatly exaggerated.

“Apparently,” Luke agreed, his worry increasing. He’d thought Buzz was acting strangely this morning
because of Eugene’s arrest and the gambling trouble. Now he wasn’t so sure.

“I thought I’d let you know, anyway.”

“I appreciate that.” He hung up, wondering what McCall had wanted with his uncle. Why, after all these years, would she be looking into some old fish and game violations against her father?

More to the point, was she just fishing? Or had she caught something that could mean trouble for Buzz?

M
C
C
ALL COULDN’T SHAKE OFF
the feeling as she left that Buzz was lying about something. She’d definitely rattled him.

While she was trying hard not to let her dislike of Buzz Crawford overly influence her one-woman unauthorized investigation, it was odd that he hadn’t confiscated her father’s hunting rifle. Odder still were some of his reactions.

The missing rifle seemed the key, she thought as she saw Red Harper’s pickup parked in front of the Cowboy Bar.

Red Harper, according to what she’d heard, had been her father’s former hunting buddy and best friend.

Red was one of those people born into a family with money
and
a good name. His father owned several farm implement dealerships across the state and had left Red a large thriving ranch north of town.

As McCall parked, she could see Red having an early lunch at the counter. If anyone would know what had been going on with her father the day he died, it should be his best friend.

The smell of stale beer and floor cleaner hit her as
McCall entered the dim bar. It was early enough that only a few of the regulars were occupying the stools along the bar.

“Red,” she said by way of greeting as she neared his stool.

He gave her a nod, already wary. She assumed it was the uniform. According to stories she’d heard, Red had been a lot like her father in his younger days, both from money, both unable to keep trouble from finding them.

The difference was that Red had grown up.

Trace Winchester never got the chance.

“Buy you a beer?” she asked but didn’t give him time to answer as she motioned to the bartender to bring them two of whatever he was having.

“Mind if we move over to a table?” she asked. “I’d like to talk with you.”

He pushed away his plate, his burger finished, and got to his feet, although he didn’t look anxious to talk to her. “What’s this about?”

She took a table away from the regulars at the bar and sat down. Red reluctantly joined her.

“If this is about your mother and me—”

“My mother?” McCall couldn’t help the surprise in her voice. Red Harper was one of the only men her mother’s age who hadn’t dated her after Trace had allegedly left town.

McCall had always wondered why.

“Your mother didn’t tell you I asked her out?”

She shook her head. That too was strange. McCall had lived her mother’s ups and downs with men and was always the first to hear when a new man came into Ruby’s life—or left it.

“Sorry, but no. Ruby can take care of herself.” If only that were true. McCall had seen her mother go through so many relationships that were obviously doomed from the beginning that she didn’t try to warn her off certain men anymore.

McCall, though, couldn’t help but wonder why Red had decided to ask her mother out now.

Their beers arrived. When the bartender left again, McCall picked up the frosty glass and took a sip of the icy cold beer.

Red seemed to relax a little. “So what’s this about?”

“I just wanted to ask you about my dad. You probably knew him better than anyone.”

He nodded and picked up his drink. “There was no one like Trace.”

“Is it true he was as wild as people say?”

Red smiled, flushing a little. He was a handsome man with a full head of reddish-blond hair still free of gray, blue eyes and a great smile. McCall had always liked him.

“There’s some truth to the stories.” Red chuckled ruefully. “He was a good guy, though. He just liked to do what he wanted. He and I were a lot alike that way.”

She took another drink of her beer and waited for Red to continue.

“He liked to fish and hunt and drink and chase women.” Red seemed to realize what he’d said and quickly added, “Well, until your mother.”

McCall had caught his slip-up. Why hadn’t she thought that there might have been another woman in her father’s life?

Ruby had been pregnant with McCall, wildly hormonal,
according to her, and jealous as hell, if her other relationships were any indication.