Big Sky Standoff

Jack’s look practically gave him frostbite.

Fortunately, the waitress brought their lunches just then, and the burger and fries warmed him up, filling his belly, settling him down a little. He liked listening to the normal sounds of the café, watching people come and go. It had been so long. He also liked watching Jacklyn Wilde.

She ate with the same efficiency with which she drove and did her job. No wasted energy. A single-minded focus. He hadn’t entirely been kidding about her being a legend in the prison. It was one reason Dillon was so damn glad to be sitting across the table from her.

He’d been amazed when she’d come to him with her proposition. She’d get him out of prison, but for his part, he had to teach her the tricks of his trade so she could catch a band of rustlers who’d been making some pretty big scores across Montana. At least that was her story.

He’d seen in the papers that the cattlemen’s association was up in arms, demanding something be done. It had been all the talk in the prison, the rustlers becoming heroes among the cellies.

What got to him was that Jack had no idea what she was offering him. He hadn’t agreed at first, because he hadn’t wanted to seem too eager. And didn’t want to make her suspicious.

But what prisoner wouldn’t jump at the chance to get out and spend time in the most isolated parts of Montana with the woman who’d put him behind bars?

“Where, exactly, are we headed?” he asked after he’d finished his burger. He dragged his last fry through a lake of ketchup, his gaze on her. It still felt so weird being out, eating like a normal person in a restaurant, sitting here with a woman he’d thought about every day for four years.

Her gray eyes bored into him. “I’d prefer not to discuss business in a public place.”

He smiled. “Well, maybe there’s something else you’d like to discuss.”

“Other than business, you and I have nothing to say to each other,” she said, her tone as steely as her spine.

“All right, Jack. I just thought we could get to know each other a little better, since we’re going to be working together.”

“I know you well enough, thank you.”

He chuckled and leaned back in the booth, making himself comfortable as he watched her finish her salad. He could tell she hated having his gaze on her. It made her uneasy, but she did a damn good job of pretending it didn’t.

He’d let her talk him into the prerelease deal, amused by how badly she’d wanted him out of prison. She needed to stop the rustlers, to calm the cattlemen, to prove she could do her job in a macho man’s West.

Did she suspect Dillon’s motives for going along with the deal? He could only speculate on what went through that mind of hers.

She looked up from her plate, those gray eyes cold and calculating. As he met her gaze, he realized that if she could read his mind, it would be a short ride back to prison.

She said nothing, just resumed eating. She was wary, though. But then, she had every reason to be mistrustful of him, didn’t she.

Chapter Two

Rancher Shade Waters looked across the table at his son, his temper ready to boil over—lunch guest or not.

In fact, he suspected Nate had invited her thinking it would keep Shade from saying anything. He hadn’t seen his son in several days, and then Nate had shown up with this woman.

“I suppose you heard,” Shade said, unable to sit here holding his tongue any longer. “Another ranch was hit last night by that band of rustlers. If they don’t catch those sons of—”

“Do we always have to talk ranch business at meals?” Nate snapped. “You’re ruining everyone’s appetite.”

Nate’s appetite seemed to be fine, and Shade couldn’t have cared less about Morgan Landers’s. From what he could tell, she ate like a bird. Their guest was like most of the women his son dated: skinny, snobby and greedy. He’d seen the way she’d looked around the ranch house. As if taking inventory of the antiques, estimating their worth at an auction.

Shade had no doubt what Morgan Landers would do with the ranch and the house if she got the chance.

But then, he wasn’t about to let her get her hands on either one.

“Please don’t mind me,” Morgan said. “This rustling thing is definitely upsetting.”

“No one can stop them. They’ve fooled everyone and proved they’re smarter than the ranchers and especially that hotshot stock inspector, Wilde,” Nate said, clearly amused by all of it.

“I beg your pardon?” Shade snapped, no longer even trying to keep his temper under control. How could his son be so stupid? “You sound like you admire these thieves.”

“Well, they haven’t hit our ranch, so what do you care?”

Shade was speechless. He’d never understood his son, but it had never crossed his mind that Nate was just plain stupid.

He heard his voice rising as he said, “As long as those men are out there stealing cattle, this ranch is at risk. I won’t rest until they are all behind bars. And as for the man who’s leading this ring, I’d like to see him hanged from that big tree down by the creek, like he would have been if your grandfather was still alive.”

Nate chuckled and looked at Morgan, the two sharing a private joke. “As if he can be caught.”

“Do you know something I don’t?” the rancher asked between gritted teeth.

“The leader of the rustlers is already behind bars,” Morgan said. “Everyone knows it’s Dillon Savage. Who else could it be?”

“Really?” Shade looked at his son.

“Who else could it be?” Nate said. He had the irritating habit of parroting everything Morgan said.

“Well, for your edification, Dillon Savage is not behind bars anymore. Jacklyn Wilde got him out of prison.”

Nate had the sense to look surprised—and worried. “Why would she do that?”

“Supposedly to help her catch the rustlers. Isn’t that rich?” Waters said, and swore under his breath.

Nate looked upset, but Shade doubted his concern was for their cattle. No, he thought, looking over at the woman beside his son, Nate had other worries when it came to Dillon Savage.

“The whole damn thing was kept quiet,” Shade said, fighting his anger. “For obvious reasons.” He would have fought it tooth and nail had he known.

“Like I said, do we have to talk about this now?” Nate asked pointedly.

“Your guest might have more of an interest in the topic than you think,” he replied. “After all, she was Dillon Savage’s…” he looked at Morgan as if he wasn’t sure what to call their relationship “…girlfriend.”

Nate shot him a warning look as the cook came in with another basket of warm rolls. Morgan was picking at her salad. It galled Waters that while he and Nate were having beefsteaks, Morgan had opted for rabbit food. The woman was dating a cattle rancher, for hell’s sake.

The rancher cursed under his breath, angry at his son on so many levels he didn’t even know where to begin. Nate not only looked like his mother—blond with hazel eyes, and an aristocratic air about him—he’d also gotten her softness, something Shade had tried to “cowboy” out of him, although, regretfully, he hadn’t succeeded.

He wished he hadn’t let Nate’s mother spoil the boy so. Now in his early thirties, Nate stood to inherit everything Shade had spent his life building. Nate had no idea the sacrifices his father had made, the obstacles he’d had to overcome, the things he’d had to do. Still had to do. Nate, like his mother, would have been shocked and repulsed if he’d known.

Fortunately, Elizabeth had always turned a blind eye to anything her husband did, although Shade wondered if it wasn’t what had put her in an early grave. That and the loss of her firstborn son, Halsey.

While Halsey had loved everything about ranching, Nate never took to it. And just the thought of ever turning the W Bar over to him was killing Shade.

Nate leaned toward Morgan now, whispering something in her ear that made her chuckle coyly—and turned Shade’s stomach.