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“I’m sorry to hear that he’s ill, but my father and I said all we had to say a long time ago.”
She didn’t seem surprised by his response. “I don’t believe you understand. If you do not return and take your place as his only son, you will be disinherited.”
He laughed. “I thought he’d already done that. If that’s his best shot, it missed the mark. I don’t want it. I never did.”
“Archibald—”
“It’s Pickett Hanson now.”
Sarah actually rolled her eyes, something he’d never seen her do before. “You have always been impulsive, stubborn and foolish, but you’ve never been cruel. Your father is dying. He wants to make amends for the past and the disagreement between you.”
He studied her, not trusting that she was telling the truth. “He’s dying?”
Emotion welled in her eyes. “He doesn’t have much time. He knows that you aren’t interested in taking over what he built for you.” Her voice broke. “He just wants to see you before it’s too late.”
Pickett turned and walked to the window to look out at the land he now called home. He knew his father thought he was living a lie out here, but this had been where he’d found his true self. He didn’t want to lose that.
“Please come back with me,” Sarah said behind him in a pleading tone he’d also never heard from her before.
He slowly turned to look at her. “I have to let my boss know. You should go on ahead. I’ll catch the first flight I can.” He also had to let Duffy and Oakley know. He thought of what he would tell them. Anything but the truth.
CHAPTER TWELVE
WHENTHEDISPATCHERtold Stuart a federal agent was on the phone, he swore under his breath before picking up. He hoped this call wasn’t about another meth lab popping up in his county, but he wouldn’t have been surprised. In such an isolated place with more cows than people, there were too many old homesteads, empty farmhouses and mining shacks hidden back in the hills. The land here ran open for miles bordered by pine-covered mountains, gullies and deep ravines hidden by rocky cliffs, places you could hide a 747.
“Sheriff Layton,” he said, taking the call and bracing himself for the worst.
The agent introduced himself, then said, “We did some aerial photography when we were over in your county. I was just going through it and I found something.”
“Another meth lab?” He was surprised that the drug dealers had brazenly set up another one so quickly.
“We spotted something in a reservoir on one of the unoccupied ranches,” the agent was saying. Out-of-staters had been buying up the west, determined to take the land back to how it was in the 1800s by not doing anything on it. It made some ranchers fear that it would be the death of ranching, especially family-run ranches that weren’t making a profit. Easier to sell out and retire.
In the Powder River Basin it was on open invitation to anyone who knew the area to use the land for something other than ranching or farming since the landowners weren’t here.
“In a reservoir?” At least it wasn’t a meth lab, Stuart thought with relief.
“It looks like a vehicle. With this drought, the water in the reservoir dropped enough that you can see it some feet below the surface. Doesn’t look like it’s been there all that long.”
The agent gave him the directions to the spot and Stuart said he’d run out and check. But when he realized the location, he felt a start. The reservoir was on the Turner Ranch—the one that he knew both Holden McKenna and Charlotte Stafford wanted to buy because it bordered their ranches and had plenty of water.
He swore and looked up to find Deputy Ty Dodson lounging in the doorway with a cup of coffee in his hand.
“Come on. We need to go check on something,” the sheriff said as he rose and reached for his hat and coat. “You own a swimsuit?”
Dodson frowned. “It’s winter in Montana.”
“Then you might need a wetsuit as well, but that’s only if this reservoir isn’t iced over. I wouldn’t worry. I believe there is a natural spring that flows into this one. The water could be open and all of forty degrees,” he said as he motioned for the deputy to ditch the coffee cup and get moving. He found himself almost happy since it hadn’t been a call about a meth lab. Also, that he wouldn’t have to go into the water himself. He didn’t like water that came up higher than his knees.
A vehicle in the reservoir on Inez Turner’s ranch? He didn’t kid himself that this might turn out to be just as bad—or worse—than a meth lab.
“DIDYOUKNOWPickett had family back east?” Oakley asked.
Duffy shook his head. They’d both gotten texts with little explanation, making Oakley realize that Pickett had never talked about family.
“He wasn’t very old when he arrived at the ranch looking for a job, according to my father. He’s just always been with us,” Duffy said.
“But he’s coming back, right?” Oakley asked, and Duffy shrugged. “So are we still going to the emergency Dirty Business meeting without him tonight?”
