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PROLOGUE
THEMANHADalways been dead weight. But now seriously dead, he seemed too heavy for someone who’d been so insignificant in the grand scheme of things. As the two alternated dragging and carrying his body from the back of the pickup through the darkness toward the yawning hole in the ground, the moon rose, painting the Powder River Basin golden.
A breeze stirred the leaves of the tall cottonwoods, making the trees sigh. The two stopped to listen, both on alert. Past the cottonwoods, the Powder River snaked soundlessly through a stretch of badlands; the slick surface of the water appeared cast in bronze in the moonlight. Nothing moved.
Silently, the two continued their macabre work, straining with the effort. As they neared the old abandoned well, they stopped again to listen, then looked at each other over the body as if one of them should say something.
“Burn in hell,” the one said and, lifting the man’s legs, the two dropped him headfirst into the cistern.
The night fell deathly silent as they stood over the large gaping black hole—one of the few wells in the basin that he would fit. They listened, waiting until they heard his head connect with the rocky bottom.
They looked at each other, a silent agreement forged between two unlikely coconspirators. Without a word, they slid the cover back over the forgotten dry well and headed for the truck, the job done—once they disposed of the man’s pickup.
CHAPTER ONE
OAKLEYSTAFFORDJOLTEDupright in bed, the nightmare chasing her from the deep darkness of sleep into the growing light of the Montana winter day. The sun rimmed the mountains to the east, but her view from her bedroom window on the Stafford Ranch was still cast in shadow. Through the bare-limbed cottonwoods, the Powder River wound its way north, dark and silent beneath a thick layer of ice.
Even now awake, Oakley felt as if she was still spurring her horse through the darkness of the cottonwoods months earlier. The leaves created a dark canopy overhead with only slivers of sunlight filtering through, casting long shadows in her path. She raced for the county road, chased by a killer as she ran for her life.Don’t look back. Don’t look back.
She shuddered, the recurring nightmare feeling so real because it had been. She’d awoken in the hospital, shocked to hear that she’d been shot just as she and her horse had burst from the cottonwoods and onto the county road. Shot in the back, she’d fallen from her horse, striking her head so hard that it wiped out all memory of two full days of her life.
Her hand went automatically to her scar near her heart where the bullet had been removed. Even after all this time, the shadowy images still plagued her, daring her to remember. What had really happened that day?
While her memory felt like a black hole tempting her to come closer and look at what was waiting for her inside, her mind kept crying out,Don’t look back!It made her fear that the truth might be more terrifying than her lack of memory.
Oakley started as her bedroom door opened, her older sister filling the frame. “I heard you cry out. The nightmare again?” She nodded as Tilly entered the room and sat down on the edge of her bed. “I thought after CJ confessed to accidentally shooting you, it would get better.”
“So did I.” But she didn’t trust her older brother’s version of the story. There was a part of her brain that told her there was something important she desperately needed to recall before it was too late.
“You stayed here last night?” she asked. Tilly often stayed with her fiancé at the McKenna Ranch that adjoined theirs. The river dividing their land, the two families had been at odds for years. The bitterness between the McKenna patriarch, Holden McKenna, and their mother, the matriarch of the Stafford Ranch, Charlotte Stafford, had gotten worse recently.
“Have you heard from Mother?” Tilly asked as she rose from the bed and walked to the window. Oakley saw her glance at the engagement ring on her finger, the diamond catching the early-morning light. In the distance, the mountains rose in rocky cliffs and pine-dotted hillsides capped with the last of winter’s snow. Closer, the thick stand of cottonwoods stood stark along the river as it wound its way through the Powder River Basin under a clear, cold, cloudless blue late-December sky.
“Maybe you should tell her about your engagement before she returns home,” Oakley suggested, leaning against the headboard as the remnants of her nightmare burned away like morning mountain mist, leaving her unsettled.
“Mother has enough on her plate right now.”
Oakley had been shocked when she’d learned who’d shot her. Her own brother. CJ swore it was an accident. She knew in her heart that there was more to it and that was what had her scared. She had to remember, because all her instincts told her that her would-be killer was waiting in fear for her to do just that.
While Oakley had been fighting for her life in the hospital, CJ had tried to flee the law. He’d rolled his pickup, almost killing Tilly and himself. Paralyzed, he’d been whisked away by their mother to a hospital in Minnesota that specialized in the care he needed. Their mother had gone with him. Oakley hadn’t seen either of them since; nor had she gotten a chance to confront her brother.
“I haven’t heard anything from her,” Oakley said. As far as she knew, CJ was still paralyzed, needing a wheelchair, something their mother refused to accept. If stubborn determination could heal her oldest son, Charlotte Stafford would have had him walking by now and the two would have returned to the ranch.
“I can’t believe that you’ve forgiven him,” Tilly said. “He almost killed you.” CJ had fired the bullet that had come so close to Oakley’s heart that it had been amazing that she survived. It was his reason for shooting her that still haunted her. He’d apparently followed her onto McKenna Ranch property because he thought she was meeting someone from the rival ranch. Allegedly, he’d fired a warning shot to stop her that had gone awry.
“I don’t know that I can ever forgive him entirely,” Oakley said. “It was bad enough what he did to me. But he almost killed you.” She shook her head. “He’s never had to suffer the consequences of his actions, thanks to Mother. But this time he went too far. Not that I’d ever wish him to be badly injured. But he needs to spend some time behind bars. Not that Mother will ever allow that.”
Tilly looked as if she hadn’t completely forgiven their brother, either. She’d been on her way into town the day CJ found out the sheriff knew that he’d fired the near-fatal shot. Their brother abducted Tilly, taking her hostage as he raced along backroads, determined to escape punishment.
“You realize CJ will go berserk when he finds out about your engagement to Cooper McKenna,” Oakley said.
“I’m not worried about CJ,” Tilly said. “I’m more concerned about Mother. You know how she feels about the McKennas.”
Charlotte Stafford could be scary when crossed, but for Oakley it was CJ who appeared in her nightmares, along with a nagging conviction that he was lying about the shooting. “I just worry about what she’ll do, Tilly. Didn’t she threaten you if you kept seeing Cooper?”
“There’s nothing she can do,” her sister said, sounding more confident than Oakley suspected she was. “I’m marrying Coop and she can’t stop me. As far as the ranch...”
Oakley heard the catch in her sister’s voice. Tilly loved the homestead, loved working it, always thought she would be the one who kept the Stafford Ranch going for future generations. It was why she and CJ and their mother often argued about the future of the ranch and ranching. They’d especially been at odds over coalbed methane drilling on the property. CJ had talked their mother into letting the gas company drill on the ranch for the money. He’d never considered the long-term or what it would mean to future generations.
