Lone Rider (2 page)

CHAPTER TWO

B
O
H
AMILTON
ROSE
with the sun, packed up camp and saddled up as a squirrel chattered at her from a nearby pine tree. Overhead, high in the Crazy Mountains, Montana's big, cloudless early summer sky had turned a brilliant blue. The day was already warm. Before she'd left, she'd heard a storm was coming in, but she'd known she'd be out of the mountains long before it hit.

She'd had a devil of a time getting to sleep last night, and after tossing and turning for hours in her sleeping bag, she had finally fallen into a death-like sleep.

But this morning, she'd awakened ready to face whatever would be awaiting her back at the office in town. Coming up here in the mountains had been the best thing she could have done. For months she'd been worried and confused as small amounts of money kept disappearing from the foundation.

Then last week, she'd realized that more than a hundred thousand dollars was gone. She'd been so shocked that she hadn't been able to breathe, let alone think. That's when she'd called in an independent auditor. She just hoped she could find out what had happened to the money before anyone got wind of it—especially her father, Senator Buckmaster Hamilton.

Her stomach roiled at the thought. He'd always been so proud of her for taking over the reins of the foundation that bore her mother's name. All her father needed was another scandal. He was running for the presidency of the United States, something he'd dreamed of for years. Now his daughter was about to go to jail for embezzlement. She could only imagine his disappointment in her—not to mention what it might do to the foundation.

She loved the work the foundation did, helping small businesses in their community. Her father had been worried that she couldn't handle the responsibility. She'd been determined to show him he was wrong. And show herself, as well. She'd grown up a lot in the past five years, and running the foundation had given her a sense of purpose she'd badly needed.

That's why she was anxious to find out the results of the audit now that her head was clear. The mountains always did that for her. Breathing in the fresh air now, she swung up in the saddle, spurred her horse and headed down the trail toward the ranch. She'd camped only a couple of hours back into the mountain, so she still had plenty of time, she thought as she rode. The last thing she wanted was to be late to meet with the auditor.

She'd known for some time that there were...
discrepancies
in foundation funds. A part of her had hoped that it was merely a mistake—that someone would realize he or she had made an error—so she wouldn't have to confront anyone about the slip.

Bo knew how naive that was, but she couldn't bear to think that one of her employees was behind the theft. Yes, her employees were a ragtag bunch. There was Albert Drum, a seventy-two-year-young former banker who worked with the recipients of the foundation loans. Emily Calder, twenty-four, took care of the website, research, communication and marketing. The only other employee was forty-eight-year-old widower Norma Branstetter, who was in charge of fund-raising.

Employees and board members reviewed the applications that came in for financial help. But Bo was the one responsible for the money that came and went through the foundation.

Unfortunately, she trusted her employees so much that she often let them run the place, including dealing with the financial end of things. She hadn't been paying close enough attention. How else could there be unexplained expenditures?

Her father had warned her about the people she hired, saying she had to be careful. But she loved giving jobs to those who desperately needed another chance. Her employees had become a second family to her.

Just the thought that one of her employees might be responsible made her sick to her stomach. True, she was a sucker for a hard-luck story. But she trusted the people she'd hired. The thought brought tears to her eyes. They all tried so hard and were so appreciative of their jobs. She refused to believe any one of them would steal from the foundation.

So what had happened to the missing funds?

She hadn't ridden far when her horse nickered and raised his head as if sniffing the wind. Spurring him forward, she continued through the dense trees. The pine boughs sighed in the breeze, releasing the smells of early summer in the mountains she'd grown up with. She loved the Crazy Mountains. She loved them especially at this time of year. They rose from the valley into high snowcapped peaks, the awe-inspiring range running for miles to the north like a mountainous island in a sea of grassy plains.

What she appreciated most about the Crazies was that a person could get lost in them, she thought. A hunter had done just that last year.

She'd ridden down the ridge some distance, the sun moving across the sky over her head, before she caught the strong smell of smoke. This morning she'd put her campfire out using the creek water nearby. Too much of Montana burned every summer because of lightning storms and careless people, so she'd made sure her fire was extinguished before she'd left.

Now reining in, she spotted the source of the smoke. A small campfire burned below her in the dense trees of a protected gully. She stared down into the camp as smoke curled up. While it wasn't that unusual to stumble across a backpacker this deep in the Crazies, it
was
strange for a camp to be so far off the trail. Also, she didn't see anyone below her on the mountain near the fire. Had whoever had camped there failed to put out the fire before leaving?

Bo hesitated, feeling torn because she didn't want to take the time to ride all the way down the mountain to the out-of-the-way camp. Nor did she want to ride into anyone's camp unless necessary.

But if the camper had failed to put out the fire, that was another story.

“Hello?” she called down the mountainside.

A hawk let out a cry overhead, momentarily startling her.

“Hello?” she called again, louder.

No answer. No sign of anyone in the camp.

Bo let out an aggravated sigh and spurred her horse. She had a long ride back and didn't need a detour. But she still had plenty of time if she hurried. As she made her way down into the ravine, she caught glimpses of the camp and the smoking campfire, but nothing else.

The hidden-away camp finally came into view below her. She could see that whoever had camped there hadn't made any effort at all to put out the fire. She looked for horseshoe tracks but saw only boot prints in the dust that led down to the camp.

A quiet seemed to fall over the mountainside. No hawk called out again from high above the trees. No squirrel chattered at her from a pine bough. Even the breeze seemed to have gone silent.

Bo felt a sudden chill as if the sun had gone down—an instant before the man appeared so suddenly from out of the dense darkness of the trees. He grabbed her, yanked her down from the saddle and clamped an arm around her as he shoved the dirty blade of a knife in her face.

“Well, look at you,” he said hoarsely against her ear. “Ain't you a sight for sore eyes? Guess it's my lucky day.”

CHAPTER THREE

S
ENATOR
B
UCKMASTER
H
AMILTON
stood at the front window of his ranch house, stewing. He'd been either in Washington or on the road off and on since January with the presidential campaign, surrounded by staff, volunteers, donors and reporters with cameras in his face. When he'd finally escaped and come home to the ranch, he'd hoped for a little privacy.

But once the news of his first wife's miraculous return from the dead had hit the local newspaper, the story had gone viral. Reporters had begun calling the house and then showing up on the ranch with cameras and news vans.

He'd thought it would have died down after almost four months. But if anything, with his campaign going well, the media seemed even more bloodthirsty for dirt on his family—let alone photographs of Sarah. Everyone wanted to know where she'd been and if her alleged memory loss was real.

No one wanted to know more than he did. His “dead” wife's return had turned his life upside down since he'd remarried fifteen years ago. He was just thankful that of his six daughters, five of them were away from the ranch and doing their best to keep out of the limelight.

“You really should eat some breakfast,” Angelina Broadwater Hamilton said as she came into the living room with two cups of coffee. His wife handed one to him and sat down with hers.

Sarah's return had brought out the worst in Angelina. But everything else that had gone on didn't seem to bother her in the least. It amazed him how she could apparently push all the unpleasantness of her brother's arrest and suicide away and not give it another thought. He wondered if it was an act. The same way she pretended nothing had changed in their marriage since Sarah had come back.

Angelina hadn't mentioned her brother's name since his arrest and suicide. Nor had she seemed to mourn his death, shedding only a few photo-op tears at his funeral. Lane Broadwater had been Buckmaster's campaign manager when he'd run for the Senate. When Lane was arrested for killing the man who'd been blackmailing Angelina for years, all Angelina had said was—“There's more to the story than you know.”

There always was with Angelina. Buckmaster had married her after spending seven years mourning his first wife's death. Sarah's car had gone into the Yellowstone River one winter night twenty-two years ago, her body never found.

He'd married Angelina for her name and her society upbringing to help him with his political career. She and her brother had been a godsend in so many ways. Not only had they helped him win the Senate race, but also they'd put him in a position where the presidency was his if he wanted it.

And he wanted it.

Or at least, he had until his first wife had come back from the dead.

Sarah swore that she didn't remember anything about the past twenty-two years or her attempted suicide before she'd disappeared. Her last memory, according to her, was giving birth to the twins. Harper and Cassidy were now both recent college graduates.

Sarah's untimely return—right after he had thrown his hat in the presidential ring—had changed everything, especially between him and Angelina. For months they'd argued about him staying in the running for president. It had been his daughters who had talked him into continuing.

He'd thought for sure that Sarah's return and the story of her suicide attempt would have ruined any chances he had to get elected. But in a surprising turn of events, just the opposite had happened. The voting public were sympathetic to his dilemma. Even the press had cut him some slack.

Angelina took a sip of her coffee, studying him over the rim of her cup. “I suppose you're going to see Sarah now that we're back.”

“I'm not going anywhere right now,” he said. “And I don't want to argue.”

“It would just be nice if you would tell me when you were going to see her,” Angelina said.

Nice? Who was she kidding? She didn't understand that even if Sarah was no longer legally his wife, he still felt responsible for her. She was the mother of his six daughters.

He stepped to the window. Several news vans and one older-model black pickup were parked out by the gate. Every time he left the house, they followed him. The cowboy in the older-model black truck had tailed him several times when he'd gone to meet Sarah, but he'd managed to lose the guy.

“I assume Sarah is still hiding out from the press?” Angelina asked.

“They are determined to find out why she came back now, where she's been and what happens next.”

Angelina raised a brow as if those were questions she wanted answered, as well. “Why don't you leak it to the press where she is and get it over with?”

“Because I don't know where she is,” he snapped, and saw her satisfied look.

It galled him that Sarah was staying with the rancher who'd found her the day she'd reappeared in nearby Beartooth. Russell Murdock had been driving along one of the narrow dirt roads just past the cemetery in the middle of nowhere when Sarah had apparently stepped out of the trees. She'd been scraped up and disoriented with no idea how she'd gotten there or where she'd been.

At least, that was her story. Angelina didn't buy it for a minute. She argued that Sarah was faking it and had only returned to ruin his chances of becoming president. He didn't know what he believed. Sarah had been the love of his life. He'd had six beautiful daughters with her. It had almost killed him when he thought she'd taken her life that night in the river. Then she'd come back from the dead, proving that she could break his heart all over again.

“I'm sure that once they find out where Sarah is staying, they
will
talk to her,” Angelina said. “Maybe she'll start saying something that makes sense.” She didn't sound the least bit sympathetic. She didn't seem to understand that Sarah's return had made him question everything about his life, maybe especially his marriage to Angelina and his run for president.

For him, a whole lot of things had changed. What was strange was that he'd sensed it coming. Worse, the darkness he'd felt on the horizon hadn't dissipated with Sarah's return from the grave. He couldn't shake the feeling that something even darker loomed over them all.

“Now more than ever, we need a show of solidarity,” he said, not for the first time. Angelina's jealousy had brought out a nasty side of her personality that he'd never known existed.

“Where does Sarah fit in all that harmony?” she asked snidely.

He wished he knew.

As he started to close the drapes so he didn't have to see the reporters hanging around out by the gate, he noticed a pickup pulling a horse trailer up the road toward the house. He had hired armed guards at the gate to keep the reporters out, but someone was now roaring toward the house in a truck he didn't recognize.

“Now what?” he asked under his breath.

* * *

J
ACE
HAD
JUST
knocked at the door when another truck drove up from the direction of the corrals. As Senator Buckmaster Hamilton himself opened the door, he was looking past Jace's shoulder. Jace glanced back to see Cooper Barnett climb out of his truck and walk toward them.

Jace turned back around. “I'm Jace Calder,” he said, holding out his hand as the senator's gaze shifted to him.

The senator frowned but shook his hand. “I know who you are. I'm just wondering what's got you on my doorstep so early in the morning.”

“I'm here about your daughter Bo.”

Buckmaster looked to Cooper. “Tell me you aren't here about my daughter Olivia.”

Cooper laughed. “My pregnant bride is just fine, thanks.”

The senator let out an exaggerated breath and turned his attention back to Jace. “What's this about—” But before he could finish, a tall, elegant blonde woman appeared at his side. Jace recognized Angelina Broadwater Hamilton, the senator's second wife. The rumors about her being kicked out of the house to make way for Buckmaster's first wife weren't true, it seemed.

She put a hand on Buckmaster's arm. “It's the auditor calling from the foundation office. He's looking for Bo. She didn't show up for work today, and there seems to be a problem.”

“That's why I'm here,” Jace said.

“Me, too,” Cooper said, sounding surprised.

“Come in, then,” Buckmaster said, waving both men inside. Once he'd closed the big door behind them, he asked, “Now what's this about Bo?”

“I was just talking to one of the wranglers,” Cooper said, jumping in ahead of Jace. “Bo apparently left Saturday afternoon on horseback, saying she'd be back this morning, but she hasn't returned.”

“That's what I heard, as well,” Jace said, taking the opening. “I need to know where she might have gone.”

Both Buckmaster and Cooper looked to him. “You sound as if you're planning to go after her,” the senator said.

“I am.”

“Why would you do that? I didn't think you two were seeing each other?” Cooper asked like the protective brother-in-law he was.

“We're not,” Jace said.

“Wait a minute,” the senator said. “You're the one who stood her up for the senior prom. I'll never forget it. My baby cried for weeks.”

Jace nodded. “That would be me.”

“But you've dated Bo more recently than senior prom,” Buckmaster was saying.

“Five years ago,” he said. “But that doesn't have anything to do with this. I have my reasons for wanting to see Bo come back. My sister works at the foundation.”

“Why wouldn't Bo come back?” the senator demanded.

Behind him, Angelina made a disparaging sound. “Because there's money missing from the foundation along with your daughter.” She looked at Jace. “You said your sister works down there?”

He smiled, seeing that she was clearly judgmental of the “kind of people” Bo had hired to work at the foundation. “My sister doesn't have access to any of the money, if that's what you're worried about.” He turned to the senator again. “The auditor is down at the foundation office, trying to sort it out. Bo needs to be there. I thought you might have some idea where she might have gone in the mountains. I thought I'd go find her.”

The senator looked to his son-in-law. Cooper shrugged.

“Cooper, you were told she planned to be back today?” her father said. “She probably changed her mind or went too far, not realizing how long it would take her to get back. If she had an appointment today with an auditor, I'm sure she's on her way as we speak.”

“Or she's hiding up there and doesn't want to be found,” Angelina quipped from the couch. “If she took that money, she could be miles from here by now.” She groaned. “It's always something with your girls, isn't it?”

“I highly doubt Bo has taken off with any foundation money,” the senator said and shot his wife a disgruntled look. “Every minor problem isn't a major scandal,” he said and sighed, clearly irritated with his wife.

When he and Bo had dated, she'd told him that her stepmother was always quick to blame her and her sisters no matter the situation. As far as Jace could tell, there was no love lost on either side.

“Maybe we should call the sheriff,” Cooper said.

Angelina let out a cry. “That's all we need—more negative publicity. It will be bad enough when this gets out. But if search and rescue is called in and the sheriff has to go up there... For all we know, Bo could be meeting someone in those mountains.”

Jace hadn't considered she might have an accomplice. “That's why I'm the best person to go after her.”

“How do you figure that?” Cooper demanded, giving him a hard look.

“She already doesn't like me, and the feeling is mutual. Maybe you're right and she's hightailing it home as we speak,” Jace said. “But whatever's going on with her, I'm going to find her and make sure she gets back.”

“You sound pretty confident of that,” the senator said, sounding almost amused.

“I know these mountains, and I'm not a bad tracker. I'll find her. But that's big country. My search would go faster if I have some idea where she was headed when she left.”

“There's a trail to the west of the ranch that connects with the Sweet Grass Creek trail,” her father said.

Jace rubbed a hand over his jaw. “That trail forks not far up.”

“She usually goes to the first camping spot before the fork,” the senator said. “It's only a couple of hours back in. I'm sure she wouldn't go any farther than that. It's along Loco Creek.”

“I know that spot,” Jace said.

Cooper looked to his father-in-law. “You want me to get some men together and go search for her? That makes more sense than sending—”

Buckmaster shook his head and turned to Jace. “I remember your father. The two of you were volunteers on a search years ago. I was impressed with both of you. I'm putting my money on you finding her if she doesn't turn up on her own. I'll give you 'til sundown.”

“Make it twenty-four hours. There's a storm coming so I plan to be back before it hits. If we're both not back by then, send in the cavalry,” he said and with a tip of his hat, headed for the door.

Behind him, he heard Cooper say, “Sending him could be a mistake.”

“The cowboy's mistake,” Buckmaster said. “I know my daughter. She's on her way back, and she isn't going to like that young man tracking her down. Jace Calder is the one she almost married.”

* * *

S
ARAH
H
AMILTON
LEANED
into the porch railing of the old cabin and looked out at the Sweet Grass Valley. It stretched to the horizon, a gleaming array of summer colors. Closer a breeze stirred the pines, the sun making the boughs glisten.