Hero's Return

He couldn’t and for a moment he didn’t know what was going to come out of his mouth. “I’m sorry. I thought you were...” He shook his head.

She hadn’t moved, hadn’t turned and run; she hadn’t even tried to put a little distance between them. Instead, she was studying him with those wide-open green eyes. If anything, he saw interest in those eyes.

“Is there something I can help you with?” she asked, sounding genuinely concerned for him.

It made him angry. He should be concerned for her, given what he’d seen. What was worse was that he realized that this woman couldn’t possibly be the person who’d been working with Madeline all those years ago. She wasn’t old enough.

He felt like an even bigger fool. But still, he hadn’t imagined what he’d seen at the creek. But what had he seen?

“I saw you at the creek earlier.” He waited for her to explain. She didn’t. “You seemed upset.”

“Did I? Is that why you chased me down?”

“I got the feeling that you had some connection to the woman whose remains were found in the creek. I must have been wrong.”

“No, you’re not wrong.”

That stopped him in his tracks. “I beg your pardon?”

“What did she call herself?”

He felt as if he’d fallen down a rabbit hole. “I’m sorry, who are we talking about?”

“The woman who broke your heart.”

“Oh, her,” he said with a laugh. “Are we still talking about the woman found in the creek?”

“Only if she’s the one who broke your heart. Oh, I see. She did. I thought as much. Do I remind you of her?” she asked and tucked a lock of her dark hair behind one ear. A diamond earring winked in the sunlight.

“No, she couldn’t hold a candle to you,” he admitted truthfully. In retrospect, everything about Madeline had been disingenuous from her blond hair to her name. While everything about this woman was the real thing. Not that any of that had mattered when he was seventeen and in love for the very first time.

Tucker realized he was staring again—and having an even harder time following this conversation. He shook his head. “Sorry, I’m confused.”

She chuckled. “I’m not surprised.” She held out her hand. “Katherine Rothschild, but my friends call me Kate.”

“Tucker Cahill.” Her hand was small and warm, the skin silken, the manicured nails a sweet pale pink. “Rothschild,” he repeated and held on to her hand a little too long. Anyone who had ever lived in Montana knew that name. “Your father—”

“Is the former senator and now a congressman in Washington, DC.”

Clayton Rothschild was a mover and shaker in DC and one of the wealthiest men in the state. He owned almost as much land in Montana as Ted Turner.

“Cahill? Any relation to Sheriff Flint Cahill?”

“He’s my brother.” He frowned, suddenly wondering how a young woman like her—let alone a Rothschild—would know Flint. Not to mention what she’d been doing down by the creek earlier. She still hadn’t explained what he’d seen. All she’d done was confuse him.

“You said you do have a connection to the dead woman?” He was having trouble believing that.

She smiled. “And so do you, I’m guessing. Do they have a positive identification on her yet?”

“Not that I’ve heard. How do you know all this?”

“About the skeletal remains being found? From the news. That’s why I’m here. I’d planned to speak to your brother Flint. But it was nice to meet you instead. Well, I better get checked in before they give my room away.”

“Wait,” he said, realizing she’d sidestepped almost every question he’d asked her. “You haven’t told me what you were doing at the creek earlier. I heard you crying. I also saw you spit on the woman’s grave.”

Kate Rothschild nodded, smiling. “Nor have you told me what she called herself, this woman who broke your heart.”

“Madeline.”

“Well, in that case, you should buy me dinner tonight,” Kate said. “It appears we have some things in common.”

“That’s all you’re going to say?”

“Of course not. Pick me up at seven.” With that, she turned and headed into the hotel.

Tucker watched her go.

“It was nice meeting you, Tucker Cahill,” she said over her shoulder an instant before the door closed behind her.

* * *

KATE HAD JUST stepped into the hotel when her cell phone rang. She checked the caller ID and saw that it was her mother calling again. She pocketed her phone and proceeded to get checked in. Her mind kept straying in the direction of Tucker Cahill. She was still embarrassed that he’d witnessed her breakdown at the creek. But in a twist of fate, it had all worked out better than she’d planned. And now she was having dinner with him tonight.

Strike while the iron is hot, she thought and realized that she’d just used one of her mother’s expressions. That was a sour thought.

Once in her room, she walked to the window and looked out on Gilt Edge. It was named after one of the gold mines back in the mountains that surrounded the town. Her phone rang again. She’d thought it was her mother again, but it was her father’s personal assistant, Peter.

He was the last person she wanted to talk to considering their last discussion.

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing?” Peter had asked before she’d flown home to Helena. She’d been in DC on an errand for her father when she’d heard about the young woman’s remains being found in Miner’s Creek—next to the Cahill Ranch. She’d been anxious to return to Montana as quickly as possible. Peter had insisted on dinner before her flight, and even before the entrées arrived, she’d regretted saying yes.

“I’m going home,” she’d said, pretending she didn’t know what Peter was referring to. While her father spent most of his time in Washington, DC, her mother preferred living outside Helena on the ranch. It was there that Kate and her brother had grown up.

“You’re opening a Pandora’s box,” Peter had argued. “Think about what it could do to your father’s career.”

She had thrown down her napkin and pushed to her feet. “Her bones have been found. The box is already open.”

“For God’s sake, Katie, sit back down before you embarrass us both.”

“I’m going to finish this—come hell or high water and no one, especially you, can stop me. And I’m not your Katie.” With that, she’d walked out, caught the flight home and then driven to Gilt Edge.

Her cell phone rang again. Her mother. She knew she couldn’t keep avoiding her so she picked up. “Hello, Mother.”

“Katherine.” The word was filled with reproach.

Her mother was Helena’s leading socialite. Kate knew that she liked being a big fish in a little pond, unlike getting lost in the crowd in DC where she was just another politician’s wife.

But Mamie Rothschild would never admit that. Just as she would never admit there were any bad memories in that big old house outside Helena. Her mother didn’t allow herself to acknowledge anything unpleasant. Her strong resilient mother was a survivor, she thought grudgingly, and she’d raised Kate to be one, as well.