Marsh laughed. “You’re lucky all you got was a bump on your head, Bill. If Taylor hadn’t been afraid of blowing his cover in front of Denver, you’d have been dead right now,” he reminded the cop.
“How’s Cal?” Denver asked.
“He’ll live to stand trial,” Cline said. “In the meantime, he’s been very talkative. So was Lester after we found him.”
“And Taylor?” she asked.
Marsh shook his head. “He was dead when we got there.” Denver stepped to the side of Pete’s bed. Marsh and Cline moved down to the end. “How are you?” she asked Pete.
“I’ll live. Roland was just telling me about the blueberry-syrup trail they followed to find us last night.”
“We thought it was oil at first,” Marsh said.
“Not biodegradable,” J.D. answered. “Denny’s idea.”
Marsh smiled over at her. “That was smart, calling the FBI. We’d have been there sooner but we got a false lead from Taylor. I’m sorry we couldn’t have confided in you, but we didn’t know who was behind the operation and we couldn’t take any chances.”
“So you were in on it from the beginning?” J.D. asked.
Marsh nodded. “When Max found out about the poaching ring, he turned it over to us. With Pete on the inside, we went after the leader. We knew it wasn’t Cal Dalton.”
“And I suppose it was Max’s idea for Pete to go under cover?” Cline asked.
“No, Pete volunteered for the job,” Marsh said. “It was fairly easy for him to get in once Pete knew Lester was involved. Max was dead set against it. He tried to stop Pete that morning—”
“Well, that explains why Max was so upset,” J.D. said.
“Why did you take that chance?” Denver demanded of Pete.
“I overhead Max on the phone with Marsh one afternoon at Maggie’s.” Pete avoided her gaze. “I thought I could make some brownie points with you—as well as with Max.” He coughed, grimacing with pain. “But my infiltrating the ring didn’t help Max.”
“Meanwhile, Max continued to investigate Cal,” Marsh said. “I didn’t know he’d run a fingerprint check on him. Unfortunately, Max made Cal nervous, and when Cal got nervous, Taylor got real nervous.”
“Taylor was worried that if Max found out about the 1969 robbery, he might get Cal to turn state’s evidence,” Denver confirmed. “So he came here pretending to be an old friend and killed Max.”
“I imagine we were easily deceived because there were dozens of Max’s old friends turning up for his funeral,” Pete said.
“And Pete had just gotten into the poaching ring. He hadn’t met Midnight yet,” Marsh continued. “So we had no idea it was Taylor. But Max must have been pretty nervous himself about Cal, because he hid the case file.”
“Then why didn’t he take his gun that day?” Denver demanded.
“From what we can gather, Max thought he was meeting Pete at the dump that day,” Marsh said. “Or at least Pete and some old friend.”
“I just don’t understand how Taylor hoped to get away with killing Max?” J.D. asked.
Marsh chuckled. “Well, for starters, he didn’t realize what a tenacious young woman Denver is. And secondly, he’d already gotten away with robbery and murder in Billings. He probably didn’t think anyone could stop him, especially a small-town deputy like Cline here.”
“I beg your pardon?” Cline objected.
They all laughed. “You know what I mean,” Marsh amended. Cline didn’t look as if he did. “When Cline started looking for the hitchhiker, Taylor thought he was home free. Then, Denver, you started investigating Max’s death.”
“Any one of you could have stopped me,” she cried. “Why didn’t you tell me the truth?”
“Believe me, I wanted to,” Pete said. “But we knew whoever this Midnight person was, he’d be suspicious if you didn’t try to find Max’s killer.”
“So Cline was in on it the whole time?” J.D. asked.
The deputy nodded, beaming as if he’d just won an Oscar.
J.D. frowned. “If Pete wasn’t at Horse Butte—”
“It was Cal,” Cline said. “Taylor sent him out to Denver’s to help Pete look for the file. Cal found Pete passed out on the couch, saw Denver’s note and called Taylor. Taylor told him to use Pete’s pickup to get Pete in so deep they wouldn’t have to worry about his loyalties.”
“And I didn’t realize what had happened until the next morning when I got a call from Midnight,” Pete said. “I’m sorry about trying to drug you, Denver. By then, I was in deep.”
“And the hitchhiker?” Denver asked.
“He existed,” Cline said. “We just invented the one who confessed. And we were looking for him in case he witnessed anything. He didn’t.”
“I assume Cal tore up Max’s office, my cabin and Maggie’s,” Denver said.
“He and Lester,” Cline added.
“But I smelled your cologne that night at my cabin,” Denver said to Pete.
He nodded. “It seems Lester and Cal also searched my apartment. Cal helped himself to some of my cologne.” He took her hand. “No wonder you were so afraid of me.”
“So it was probably Cal who hit me on the head that first night at Max’s,” J.D. said.
“It’s a good thing you have such a hard head, Garrison,” Cline commented, but Denver detected an almost grudging compliment in the remark.
She closed her eyes for a moment. Her head swam. “That sawed-off shotgun J.D. found under Taylor’s rear seat—”
“It’s the same one that killed your parents,” Marsh confirmed.
J.D. turned from the window. “What kind of fool would keep a murder weapon?”
“A lot of criminals like to keep a souvenir,” Marsh said. “And I’m sure he saw some poetic justice in killing the daughter with the same gun more than twenty years later.”
Silence filled the room to overflowing. Marsh took the hint and excused himself to make a phone call. Unfortunately, Cline didn’t; the ranger almost had to drag him out of the room.
“I still think women should stay in the kitchen,” Denver heard Cline say as he left. She smiled to herself. Right now, staying in J.D.’s kitchen, raising his children, baking cookies and doing the wash sounded wonderful, not that her camera bag would ever be far away.
“I owe the two of you an apology,” Pete said, motioning for J.D. to come closer. “I did everything I could to keep you apart. You were right. I never called J.D. about the funeral.”
Denver took his hand. “Pete—”
“Let me finish. I thought that you’d eventually get over J.D.” He glanced at J.D., who had come to stand beside his bed. “I realize now that is never going to happen.” Pete offered his uninjured left hand. “Friends?”
J.D. took his hand. “Friends.” He turned to Denver. “I’ll be outside.”
She stood for a moment listening to the sound of birds singing beyond the open hospital window. “Thank you for trying to help Max.”
Pete waved her thanks away. “I did it for all the wrong reasons.” He took a breath and let it out slowly. “J.D.’s the right man for you, you know.”
She smiled as she leaned over to plant a kiss on Pete’s cheek. “Some day you’re going to meet a woman who’ll knock you off your feet and you’ll wonder what you ever saw in me.”
He laughed softly. “That’s going to have to be some woman.”
“She will be.”
“Denver …” Pete pulled some folded papers from the table beside his bed. “I found this in Max’s Oldsmobile. It’s his will.” She stared at the papers. “He wrote you a letter, too.” Pete grinned. “Wishing you and J.D. happiness. Max knew you’d end up together, I guess.” He met her gaze. “Be happy.”
She smiled, tears in her eyes. “I’m going to try, Pete.”
J.D. FOUND HER SITTING on a bench in a courtyard at the north end of the hospital. He stood for a minute just looking at her, marveling at everything they’d been through. Quietly he
sat down on the bench beside her and looked out at the Bridgers. The sun brightened the pines still laden with snow and brushed the rocky cliffs to gold. The air smelled of spring, and he realized, like the day, he held new hope for the future.
“I can’t believe it’s finally really over,” Denver said, glancing at him.
“Are you all right?”
She nodded as she looked at the city of Bozeman sprawled below them. “Pete gave me Max’s will.” She handed him the letter. It was short and to the point. “He hopes the two of us will be happy. And he wants us to name one of our kids after him.”
J.D. laughed as he handed back the letter. “We do make quite the team, don’t we?”
She nodded. “Max would have been impressed, wouldn’t he?” Tears welled in her eyes. “I miss him so much.”
“I know.” He took her hand; his thumb gently caressed the tender skin of her palm. “But I have a feeling he’s still watching over you.”
She brushed at her tears with her free hand and smiled. “I swear sometimes I can almost smell those awful cigars he smoked when he was working on a case.”
The breeze stirred her hair; her lower lip trembled with emotion. J.D. touched her lip with his fingertips, wanting to make the same journey with a kiss. He pulled his hand back. “Denny.” It came out a tortured groan. “How can I ask you to give up your life here, knowing how much you love it?”
“Because a long time ago you promised Max you’d do what was best for me,” she whispered.
He said nothing; he didn’t even dare breathe.
She cupped his jaw with her hand. “I think you know what’s best for me.”
He brushed her hair back from her temple. “You realize that means being on the road for months at a time and—”
She stopped him with a kiss. “Do you really think it matters where we are, as long as we’re together?”
He took her face in his hands and kissed her eyelids, her cheeks, her lips. “I want you so much, Denny. I’ve never wanted, needed anything so badly.” She raised an eyebrow; he grinned. “No, sweetheart, not even the music.”
She laughed. “That’s good, J.D., because I hate playing second fiddle to a guitar.”
He held her for a moment, just breathing in the familiar scent of her. Was it possible? Was it really possible? “What about your camera shop and the cabin?” he asked with apprehension.
He watched Denny look toward Gallatin Canyon, the way home to West Yellowstone and the place she loved. “Maggie’s taking Davey on to finish raising. The two of them have offered to run the shop for me. And the cabin will always be there for us.” When she turned to him again, she smiled. “As for Max … well, he’ll always be with me, too, J.D., no matter where I am.” She leaned up to kiss him gently, her lips warm and inviting. “And it’s not like I’m going to put my cameras away. I’m going to start a photo book.”
“A photo book?” he asked, seeing that old adventurous glint in her eye.
“For our children. It’s going to be photographs taken of their father’s tours in the years before they were born. I want them to know right from the very beginning that their father is a musician.”
He swallowed hard. “Our children.” How he loved the sound of that. “They’re going to love the lake.” As much as we did, he thought. And he could see them, tanned by the sun, standing in front of the cabin Max had built for Denny, smiling into the camera. “We’ll be back.”
She smiled. “I know.”
He kissed her then, putting as much of his love as he could into only a kiss. The sun warmed his back and caught in her eyes, making them sparkle. “Marry me, Denny,” he whispered. “Say you’ll marry me before you come to your senses.”
Her laugh filled the spring air, the most beautiful music he’d ever heard, strong as their love and just as lasting. She looked to the heavens as if listening for a voice to guide her. Then she smiled and nodded.
It was the first time he’d ever seen her at a loss for words, and he knew it wouldn’t last. He swept her into his arms and kissed her. The future waited on the horizon, beckoning them with promises like none he’d ever dreamed. His heart filled with songs yet to be written as he took her hand in his, and together they walked into the new day.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Praise
Copyright
THE COWBOY
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
The Cougar
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Odd Man Out
About the Author
Dedication
Prologue
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
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Epilogue
Jayne Ann Krentz, Tough Enough
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