B.J. Daniels - Twelve-Gauge Guardian

B.J. Daniels

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Cover

Title Page Twelve-Gauge Guardian B.J. Daniels www.millsandboon.co.uk

About the Author About the Author B.J. DANIELS wrote her first book after a career as an award-winning newspaper journalist and author of thirty-seven published short stories. Since then she has won numerous awards, including a career achievement award for romantic suspense and many nominations and awards for best book. Daniels lives in Montana with her husband, Parker, and two springer spaniels, Spot and Jem. When she isn’t writing, she snowboards, camps, boats and plays tennis. Daniels is a member of Mystery Writers of America, Sisters in Crime, International Thriller Writers, Kiss of Death and Romance Writers of America. To contact her, write to BJ Daniels, PO Box 1173, Malta, MT 59538, USA or e-mail her at bjdaniels@mtintouch. net. Check out her webpage at www.bjdaniels.com.

Dedication This book is dedicated to mothers. Please warn your children not only about strangers but what to do if they are approached by them. we need to keep our little ones safe.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Epilogue

Copyright

B.J. DANIELSwrote her first book after a career as an award-winning newspaper journalist and author of thirty-seven published short stories. Since then she has won numerous awards, including a career achievement award for romantic suspense and many nominations and awards for best book.

Daniels lives in Montana with her husband, Parker, and two springer spaniels, Spot and Jem. When she isn’t writing, she snowboards, camps, boats and plays tennis. Daniels is a member of Mystery Writers of America, Sisters in Crime, International Thriller Writers, Kiss of Death and Romance Writers of America.

To contact her, write to BJ Daniels, PO Box 1173, Malta, MT 59538, USA or e-mail her at bjdaniels@mtintouch. net. Check out her webpage at www.bjdaniels.com.

This book is dedicated to mothers.

Please warn your children not only about strangers

but what to do if they are approached by them. we need

to keep our little ones safe.

Cordell Winchester almost missed the Whitehorse Hotel. The old four-story brick building sat in a grove of cottonwoods on the far edge of town, the morning sun glinting off the worn structure.

More than a hundred years old, the place looked deserted. He took note of the vacant surroundings as he parked and went inside. The first thing that struck him was the aging smell, reminding him unpleasantly of his grandmother’s lodge. It wasn’t a reminder he needed this morning.

He’d been seven the last time he’d seen the Winchester Ranch—twenty-seven years ago—but he recalled the rambling old place only too well. He had always thought nothing could get him back to Whitehorse—let alone to the ranch.

The hotel lobby was done in overstuffed couches and chairs, the upholstery fabrics as dated as the furniture. At the unoccupied registration desk, he rang the bell, then turned to look toward the small parking area outside. No sign of his brother’s black pickup.

Where was Cyrus? Not at Winchester Ranch. Cordell had called out there and their grandmother hadn’t seen or heard from him. So where the hell was he?

Cordell took off his Stetson and raked a hand through his thick dark hair as he studied the small Western town in the distance. At a sound, he spun around to find an ancient man had appeared behind the counter as if out of nowhere.

“May I help you?” asked the stooped, gray-headed old man.

“My brother Cyrus Winchester is staying with you,” he said, settling the Stetson back on his head.

The man nodded, showing no sign of surprise at seeing Cyrus’s identical twin. Clearly this man hadn’t checked in his brother last night. The clerk thumbed through a file with gnarled fingers. “412. Shall I ring him for you?” He’d already picked up the phone and dialed the room.

Just as Cordell had expected, Cyrus didn’t answer. He’d been trying his brother’s cell since late last night and gotten no answer and Cyrus’s truck was missing. A sure sign Cyrus wasn’t here.

Cordell wished now that he’d insisted his brother wait and they ride together, but Cyrus wanted to leave a few days earlier and stop to see friends in Wyoming. Cordell had been tied up with a case and couldn’t leave until yesterday. He’d flown into Billings, spent the night and had driven the rest of the way this morning.

He and Cyrus had planned to go out for breakfast when he arrived, where Cordell had planned to make one last attempt to try to talk his brother out of this visit to their grandmother.

“I’m afraid there is no answer in his room.”

“Did you happen to see him leave?” Cordell asked even though he figured that was doubtful. The parking area, he’d noticed when he’d driven in, was at the back of the hotel. The clerk couldn’t see it from the front desk.

The old man’s head wobbled back and forth. “I just came on duty.”

“I’m worried about him.” He couldn’t put his finger on what had him so worried, but it was more than just being unable to reach his brother by phone since yesterday afternoon. “I’d like to check his room.”

The elderly clerk hesitated.

Cordell took out his wallet, flashed his driver’s license ID and Colorado private investigator license, explaining he was Cyrus’s twin brother. He also laid a twenty on the counter. “I wouldn’t ask except my brother hasn’t been himself lately.” Unfortunately true. Cyrus had been acting strangely since getting the letter from their grandmother’s attorney inviting them back to the ranch.

The letter implied that their grandmother, Pepper Winchester, who’d spent the past twenty-seven years as a recluse, was dying and anyone who didn’t come to the ranch would be exempt from a share of the legendary Winchester fortune.

Neither of them believed the fortune existed. And if it did, they weren’t about to let their grandmother manipulate them with it. They’d seen the way their grandmother had used it to control their father and his brothers and sister.

But Cyrus had been insistent about wanting to go back to the ranch one last time. “Remember Enid and Alfred? I wonder if they’re still alive. Come on, Cordell, haven’t you ever wanted to see the ranch again?”

“No.”

“Maybe I just want to see if that rambling old lodge is as scary as I remember it or the ranch is as vast as I recall.”

Cordell didn’t get it and said as much.

“You just don’t want to go because Grandmother liked me best,” his twin joked, a joke because their grandmother hadn’t given a damn about any of her grandchildren even before she’d holed up at the ranch.

“I suppose it would be all right if you had a look in his room,” the hotel clerk said now as he pocketed the twenty. He reached behind him and removed a key attached to an orange piece of plastic with the number 412 engraved on it and laid the key on the counter.

Cordell noticed that the other key to 412 was missing.

Rather than take the antiquated elevator, he ran up the stairs. He’d never liked small spaces. They reminded him of a room on the ranch that had been used as punishment when his father was a boy. The room had given him the creeps.