B.J. Daniels - Deliverance at Cardwell Ranch

“Tell the man, Rebecca,” Marc Stewart snapped. “Am I your husband?” He bent down to kiss her cheek. Austin saw him whisper something in her ear.

She closed her eyes, tears leaking from beneath dark lashes.

“We had a little argument and she took off and apparently almost got herself killed,” Marc said. “We both said and did things we regret, isn’t that right, Rebecca? Tell the man, sweetheart.”

Her eyes opened slowly. She took a ragged breath and wiped away the tears with the backs of her hands, the way a little kid would.

“Is that all there is to this?” Austin asked, watching her face. Across from him, he could see Marc gritting his teeth in fury at this interference in his life.

She nodded her head slowly, her gaze going from her husband to Austin. “Thank you, but he’s right. It was just a foolish disagreement. I will be fine now.”

* * *

FEELING LIKE A fool for getting involved in a domestic dispute, Austin headed for Cardwell Ranch. Last night, a wrecker company had pulled his rental SUV out of the ditch and brought it to the motel where he was staying. Fortunately, his skid into the ditch hadn’t done any damage.

Highway 191 was now open, the road sanded. As he drove, Austin got his first real look at the Gallatin Canyon or “the canyon” as his cousin Dana called it. From the mouth just south of Gallatin Gateway, fifty miles of winding road trailed the river in a deep cut through the mountains, almost all the way to West Yellowstone.

The drive along the Gallatin River was indeed breathtaking—a snaking strip of highway followed the Blue Ribbon trout stream up over the Continental Divide. This time of year, the Gallatin ran crystal clear under a thick cover of aquamarine ice. Dark, thick snowcapped pines grew at its edge, against a backdrop of the granite cliffs and towering pine-clad mountains.

Austin concentrated on his driving so he didn’t end up in a snowbank again. Piles of deep snow had been plowed up on each side of the road, making the highway seem even narrower, but at least traffic was light. He had to admit, it was beautiful. The sun glistening off the new snow was almost blinding in its brilliance. Overhead, a cloudless robin’s-egg-blue sky seemed vast and clearer than any air he’d ever breathed. The canyon looked like something out of a winter fairy tale.

Just before Big Sky, the canyon widened a little. He spotted a few older cabins, nothing like all the new construction he’d seen down by the mouth of the canyon. Tag had told him that the canyon had been mostly cattle and dude ranches, a few summer cabins and homes—that was, until Big Sky resort and the small town that followed at the foot of Lone Mountain.

Luxury houses had sprouted up all around the resort. Fortunately, some of the original cabins still remained and the majority of the canyon was national forest so it would always remain undeveloped. The “canyon” had remained its own little community, according to Tag.

Austin figured Tag had gotten most of his information from their cousin Dana. This was the only home she’d known and, like her stubborn relations, she apparently had no intention of ever leaving it.

While admiring the scenery on the drive, he did his best not to think about Rebecca Stewart and her husband. When he’d left her hospital room, he’d felt her gaze on him and turned at the door to look back. He’d seen her take off the ring her husband had put on her finger and grip it in her fist so tightly that her knuckles were white.

Trouble in paradise, he thought as he reached Big Sky, and none of my business. As a deputy sheriff, he’d dealt with his share of domestic disputes. Every law enforcement officer knew how dangerous they were. The best thing was to stay out of the middle of them since he’d seen both husbands and wives turn on the outsider stepping in to try to keep the peace.

Cardwell Ranch was only a few miles farther up the highway from Big Sky. But on impulse, he swung onto the road to Big Sky’s Meadow Village, where he suspected he would find the marshal’s department.

His cousin Dana’s husband, Marshal Hud Savage, waved him into his office and shook his hand. “We missed you at the wedding.” The wedding, of course, had been his brother Tag’s, to Lily McCabe, on July 4. He knew he would never live it down.

“I was hoping to get up for it, but I was on a case...” He hated that he’d missed his own brother’s wedding, but hoped at least Hud, being a lawman, would understand.

“That’s right. Deputy sheriff, is it?”

“Part-time, yes. I take on special cases.”

“As I recall, there were extenuating circumstances. You were wounded. You’re fine now?”

He nodded. He didn’t want to talk about the case that had almost gotten him killed. Nor did he want to admit that he might not still be physically a hundred percent.

“Well, have a seat,” Hud said as he settled behind his desk. “And tell me what I can do for you. I suspect this isn’t an extended family visit.”

Austin nodded and, removing his hat, sat down, comfortable at once with the marshal. “You might have heard that I got into an accident last night. My rental SUV went into the ditch.”

“I did know about that. I’m glad you weren’t hurt. We couldn’t assist because we had our hands full down here with a semi rollover.”

“I was lucky I only ended up in the ditch. What made me hit my brakes was that I came upon a vehicle upside down in the middle of the highway last night.”

Austin filled him in on the woman and everything that had happened up to leaving her about thirty minutes ago at the hospital in Bozeman.

“Sounds like she and her husband were having some marital issues,” the marshal said.

Austin nodded. “The trouble is I think it’s more than that. She had bruises on her arms.”

“Couldn’t the bruises have been caused by the accident?”

“No, these were definitely finger impressions. More than that, she seemed scared of her husband. Actually, she told me she wasn’t Rebecca Stewart, which would mean this man wasn’t her husband.” He saw skepticism in the marshal’s expression and admitted he would have felt the same way if someone had come to him with this story.

“Look,” Austin said. “It’s probably nothing, but I just have this gut feeling...”

Hud nodded, as if he understood gut feelings. “What would you like me to do?”

“First, could you run the name Marc Stewart. They’re apparently from Helena.”

“If it will relieve your mind, I’d be happy to.” The marshal moved to his computer and began to peck at the keys. A moment later, he said, “No arrests or warrants. None on Rebecca Stewart either. Other than that...”

Austin nodded.

Hud studied him. “There’s obviously something that’s still worrying you.”

He couldn’t narrow it down to just one thing. It was the small things like the older-model car Rebecca had been driving, the baby seat in the back, the woman’s adamant denial that she was Rebecca Stewart, the look of fear on her face when he’d told her that her husband was on his way to the hospital, the way she’d cried when he’d put that ring back on her finger.

Then there was that expensive diamond watch. To Gillian with all my love.

He mentioned all of this to the marshal and added, “I guess what’s really bothering me is the inconsistencies. Also she just doesn’t seem like the kind of woman who would leave her husband—let alone her baby—right before Christmas, no matter what the argument might have been about. This woman is a fighter. She wouldn’t have left her son with a man who had just gotten physical with her.”

Hud raised a brow as he leaned back in his chair. “You sure you didn’t get a little too emotionally involved?”