B.J. Daniels - Crime Scene at Cardwell Ranch

She didn’t dare tell him that it had been Warren who’d found the bones. Jordan would never understand why Warren hadn’t just filled in the well and kept his mouth shut. “I found some bones in the old dry well at the homestead.”

“So?”

“I called the marshal’s office to report them.”

“For God’s sake, why?”

“Because it’s both legally and morally the thing to do.” She really wasn’t in the mood for Jordan today.

“This is going to hold up the sale of the ranch.”

“Jordan, some poor soul is in the bottom of our well. Whoever it is deserves to be buried properly.”

“It’s probably just animal bones. I’m flying out there to see what the hell is really going on.”

“No!” The word was out before she could call it back. Telling Jordan no was like waving a red blanket in front of a rodeo bull.

“You’re up to something. This is just another ploy on your part.”

She closed her eyes and groaned inwardly. “I just think it would be better if you didn’t come out. I can handle this. You’ll only make matters worse.”

“I have another call coming in. I’ll call you back.” He hung up.

Dana gritted her teeth as she put down the phone and picked up her mail and began sorting through it. All she needed was Jordan coming out here now. She thought about leaving so she didn’t have to talk to him when he called back.

Or she could just not answer the phone. But she knew that wouldn’t accomplish anything other than making him more angry. And Jordan wasn’t someone you wanted to deal with when he was angry.

She opened a letter from Kitty Randolph asking her to help chair another fund-raiser. Kitty and Dana’s mother had been friends and since Mary’s death, Kitty had seemed to think that Dana would take her mother’s place. Dana put the letter aside. She knew she would probably call Kitty in a day or so and agree to do it. She always did.

She picked up the rest of the mail and froze at the sight of the pale yellow envelope. No return address, but she knew who it was from the moment she saw the handwriting.

Throw it away. Don’t even open it.

The last thing she needed was to get something from her sister Stacy today.

The envelope was card-shaped. Probably just a birthday card. But considering that she and Stacy hadn’t spoken to each other in five years…

She started to toss the envelope in the trash but stopped. Why would her sister decide to contact her now? Certainly not because it was her birthday. No, Stacy was trying to butter her up. Kind of like good cop, bad cop with Jordan opting of course for the bad cop role. Her other brother Clay was more of the duck-for-cover type when there was conflict in the family.

Dana couldn’t help herself. She ripped open the envelope, not surprised to find she’d been right. A birthday card.

On the front was a garden full of flowers and the words, For My Sister. Dana opened the card.

“Wishing you happiness on your birthday and always.”

“Right. Your big concern has always been my happiness,” Dana muttered.

The card was signed, Stacy. Then in small print under it were the words, “I am so sorry.”

Dana balled up the card and hurled it across the room, remembering a time when she’d idolized her older sister. Stacy was everything Dana had once wanted to be. Beautiful, popular, the perfect older sister to emulate. She’d envied the way Stacy made everything look easy. On the other hand, Dana had been a tomboy, scuffed knees, unruly hair and not a clue when it came to boys.

What Dana hadn’t realized once she grew up was how much Stacy had envied her. Or what lengths she would go to to hurt her.

The phone rang. She let it ring twice more before she forced herself to pick up the receiver, not bothering to check Caller ID for the second time. “Yes?”

“Dana?”

“Lanny. I thought it…was someone else,” she said lamely.

“Is everything all right?” he asked.

She could picture him sitting in his office in his three-piece, pin-striped suit, leaning back in his leather chair, with that slight frown he got when he was in lawyer mode.

“Fine. Just…busy.” She rolled her eyes at how stupid she sounded. But she could feel what wasn’t being said between them like a speech barrier. Lanny had to have heard that Hud was back in town. Wasn’t that why he’d called?

“Well, then I won’t keep you. I just wanted to make sure we were still on for tonight,” he said.

“Of course.” She’d completely forgotten about their date. The last thing she wanted to do was to go out tonight. But she’d made this birthday dinner date weeks ago.

“Great, then I’ll see you at eight.” He seemed to hesitate, as if waiting for her to say something, then hung up.

Why hadn’t she told him the truth? That she was exhausted, that there was a dead body in her well, that she just wanted to stay home and lick her wounds? Lanny would have understood.

But she knew why she hadn’t. Because Lanny would think her canceling their date had something to do with Hud.

ONCE THE TEAM of deputies on loan from the sheriff’s department in Bozeman arrived and began searching the old homestead, Hud drove back to his office at Big Sky.

Big Sky didn’t really resemble a town. Condos had sprung up after construction on the famous resort began on the West Fork of the Gallatin River in the early 1970s. A few businesses had followed, along with other resort amenities such as a golf course in the lower meadow and ski area on the spectacular Lone Mountain peak.

The marshal’s office was in the lower meadow in a nondescript small wooden building, manned with a marshal, two deputies and a dispatcher. After hours, all calls were routed to the sheriff’s office in Bozeman.

Hud had inherited two green deputies and a dispatcher who was the cousin of the former sheriff and the worst gossip in the state. Not much to work with, especially now that he had a murder on his hands.

He parked in the back and entered the rear door, so lost in thought that he didn’t hear them at first. He stopped just inside the door at the sound of his name being brandished about.

“Well, you know darned well that he had some kind of pull to get this job, even temporarily.” Hud recognized Franklin Morgan’s voice. Franklin was the nephew of former marshal Scott “Scrappy” Morgan. Franklin was a sheriff’s deputy in Bozeman, some forty miles away.

Hud had been warned that Franklin wasn’t happy about not getting the interim marshal job after his uncle left and that there might be some hard feelings. Hud smiled at that understatement as he heard Franklin continue.

“At first I thought he must have bought the job, but hell, the Savages haven’t ever had any money.” This from Shirley Morgan, the dispatcher, and Franklin’s sister. Nepotism was alive and well in the canyon.

“Didn’t his mother’s family have money?” Franklin asked.

“Well, if they did, they didn’t leave it to their daughter after she married Brick Savage,” Shirley said. “But then, can you blame them?”

“Hud seems like he knows what he’s doing,” countered Deputy Norm Turner. Norm was a tall, skinny, shy kid with little to no experience at life or law enforcement from what Hud could tell.

“Maybe Brick pulled some strings to get Hud the job,” Franklin said.

Hud scoffed. Brick wouldn’t pull on the end of a rope if his son was hanging off it from a cliff on the other end.

“Not a chance,” Shirley said with a scornful laugh. “It was that damned Dana Cardwell.”

Hud felt a jolt. Dana?

“Everyone in the canyon does what she wants just like they did when her mother was alive. Hell, those Cardwell women have been running things in this canyon for years. Them and Kitty Randolph. You can bet Dana Cardwell got him the job.”