Jenna Kernan - Hunter Moon

“You haven’t spoken to me in seven years,” he said. “Now you’re asking for my help?”

* * *

A STAB OF guilt spiked inside Izzie, and she couldn’t hold his gaze. He was right. She’d avoided him and the scorn she knew would come by association. This was a small community. A person’s place in the tribe depended on many things—character, family and who you chose to love. Loving Clay had cost too much. So she had let him go. Now she wanted a favor. She thought of her two little brothers and stiffened her spine. Then she met the accusation in his gaze.

“I’m asking,” she said.

He exhaled loudly through his nose. “Izzie, I need this job. I won’t do anything to jeopardize it.”

“And I’m not asking you to. Just take a look at the tracks.”

He was staring at her again, debating. She saw it now. The anger in his stance and the unwillingness.

“Call Gabe. He’s the chief of police.”

“I want someone who is working for me—not the tribe. Plus he made it very clear that I’m a suspect in whatever is going on up there.”

“You?” He laughed right in her face. The sound was hard. “Isabella Nosie? The girl with all As in high school. The good girl, sings in the choir, took over for her dad, helps raise her brothers and has never made a mistake in her life?”

That was just one step too far. She planted a fist on her hip.

“I made one.”

His laughter died and their eyes met. She read the hurt in his expression as her words hit their target. They both knew the mistake she meant. She had loved him.

Clay sagged back against the truck bed as if she’d slapped him. Izzie felt terrible.

“I’m sorry, Clay. I didn’t mean it.” Actually, going out with Clay had been the best thing that ever happened to her. Until she’d let her parents run him off. Why hadn’t she stood up for herself?

Because she’d been sixteen with dreams of college and a career, and, after his mom had been killed by that drunk driver, Clay was so angry and reckless, she barely recognized him. Then her father got sick and she’d made that promise. The next thing she knew, she had become responsible for her brothers and mother, and now she might lose it all.

“Will you help me?” she asked.

“No.”

“Fine. Then I’ll just do it myself.”

She turned to go, and he captured her wrist. She paused and he released her.

Clay removed his hat and struck it against his leg. His face went bright, with two streaks of color across his prominent cheekbones. Did that mean he did care what happened to her? Her heart fluttered at the possibility, and she cursed herself for a fool.

Clay regrouped, releasing her as he looked down his broad straight nose at her. He was scowling now and his nostrils flared. He’d never looked more handsome.

Clay didn’t wear his hair long, like his brothers Kino and Clyne. Neither did he wear it buzzed short like Gabe. Clay chose a length that was neither fashionable, functional nor traditional. His black hair ended bluntly at his strong jawline with bangs that he either swept back or let fall over his piercing eyes. His brow was prominent and his eyebrows thick. His black lashes were long and framed his deep brown eyes. She’d always wondered why he didn’t recognize his model good looks, but Clay seemed unaware of how he turned heads.

She met his hard stare, gnawing on her lower lip.

“If you are involved with anything illegal up there, you best tell me right now.”

She gaped as the shock hit her like a slap. He couldn’t really think she had anything to do with this. Could he?

He looked serious enough. “Because I will not be dragged into another mess.”

“I’m not involved with anything illegal.”

He continued to stare, lips pressed thin and colorless.

She threw up her hands in disgust. “Okay! I swear! I’m not involved in anything, and all I know is someone cut my fences, half my herd is gone, I’m missing cattle and now I owe a fine.”

“What is it you want me to do, exactly?” he asked.

“Check the fields for tracks. Tell me everything you can. Maybe poke around in the upper pasture.”

“The crime scene, you mean.”

“Yes.”

“How much?”

“Fifty bucks?”

He shook his head. “I want a cow for my sister’s Sunrise Ceremony.”

“Your sister?” Some of the fight drained out of her, replaced by shock. Izzie touched the gold crucifix, rubbing it between her thumb and index finger before letting it drop. “I thought Jovanna was...”

“So did we. She’s not. Just missing. We are going to find her.”

Izzie absorbed that bit of news. It was really none of her business, but she remembered the bright and happy little girl who left with her mother for her first contest and never came back. If they could find her, they’d need every bit of that cow to feed all the company and relatives who would attend. A homecoming and a Sunrise Ceremony. Goodness, there would be hundreds of people.

“She’s been gone a long time,” said Izzie.

Clay said nothing to that.

“All right, then.”

He replaced his hat. They were close to a deal. Once she’d known him intimately. But then he had been a boy. This man before her had become a stranger.

He made a sound of frustration in his throat.

When he met her gaze, she braced, knowing he had reached a decision. And also knowing that once Clay Cosen settled on a course it was nearly impossible to change his mind.

Chapter Three

When he finally spoke, his voice was tight, clipped and frosty as the snow off Black Mountain.

“All right. One cow. My pick.”

It took a moment for Izzie to realize that she had won. She blinked up at Clay, recovered herself and nodded.

“My pick,” he repeated. “And if you are lying to me or dragging me into something illegal, I will turn you over to Gabe so fast, little brothers or no little brothers.”

It was a threat that hit home, for while her mother still ran the household, Izzie owned the cattle. It was a sticking point between her and her mother, for her father had left the entire herd to his eldest daughter instead of his wife. Her mother, a righteous woman with a knack for scripture, also had a habit of spending more than her husband could make. And though her father had had trouble telling his wife no, Izzie did not. Which was why she had increased the herd by forty head and also why her mother was equally furious and proud of her. Izzie planned to keep her promise and pass her father’s legacy to her brothers. Up until today she had done well. Up until today when she had lost fifty-one head. Her shoulders slumped a little, but she managed to keep her chin up.

“That’s a deal.” She stuck out her hand and pushed down the hope that he would take it.

He stared at her hand and then back to her and then back to her hand. Finally he clasped it. The contact was brief. But her reaction was not. She felt the tingle of his palm pressing to hers clear up to her jaw. Why, oh why did she have to have a thing for this man?

Clay broke the contact, leaving Izzie with her hand sticking out like a fool. Clay rubbed his palm on his thigh as if anxious to be rid of all traces of their touch. She scowled, recalling a time when things were different.

“When do we start?” she asked.

“Sooner is better. Tracks don’t improve with time.”

“Let’s go, then. We can take my truck.”

He hesitated, glancing to his vehicle. She followed his gaze, noticing he did not have a gun rack.

“You want to bring your rifle?”

“Don’t carry one.”

She frowned, thinking she had not heard him correctly. Clay hunted. He fished. Surely he had a rifle. It was part of life here. Shooting at coyotes and gophers and rattlesnakes, though she usually took a shovel to the snakes. Everyone she knew carried a firearm. But everyone she knew had not been charged with a crime.