Sinister (7 page)

Whistling to the dog, he opened the driver’s-side door of his Explorer. Montana leapt inside and took his spot on the passenger seat as Colton stowed his bag in the back.

Half a minute later, he was behind the wheel and heading back to the place he’d sworn he’d left forever.

It was after two, and with the lunch rush over, Sabrina hoped to grab a quick burger and a quiet ten minutes to herself in a booth at Molly’s.

As she sat down, Cordelia, one of Molly’s waitresses, asked, “Do you want fries with your burger?”

“No fries. Salad or fruit, if you can do it.”

“Milk shake?”

“Just black coffee.”

“Trying to cut down on the carbs?” Cordelia motioned to the patrons behind her. “That’s all I been hearing for the past two weeks. Folks are trying to trim down to squeeze into the formal wear in their closets. Seems like most of the town has been invited to the big wedding.”

“Really.” Sabrina hadn’t even thought about what to wear yet. She had bigger issues and forced the question that had been preying on her ever since she’d concluded she’d have to attend. “Have you heard about whether Colt Dillinger is coming for it?” Cordelia was always a good source of information.

“Jury’s still out, and I call it a fifty-fifty chance. I think Ira’s up in Montana now, trying to rope him into it. But the big surprise was when those invitations went out to all the Kincaids. Pete Murray said he thought his eyes had gone buggy when he was sorting the mail down at the post office. He almost called Pilar to make sure it wasn’t a mistake, but figured he’d mind his own business.”

“I bet that was a shocker,” Sabrina agreed. Pete was a reliable postman, but nosy as the day was long.

Cordelia hitched a thumb to the rear of the restaurant where Georgina Kincaid and her husband, the Major, sat finishing their lunch. “I know they’re going. Hunter and Emma, too. Of course, Emma’s not surprised, considering she’s making Pilar’s gown. Or should I say gowns in the plural. Did you hear that Pilar has her working on three?”

“That’s the buzz.” Sabrina put the cloth napkin on her lap and glanced at her empty coffee cup.

Cordelia said, “Lemme bring that to ya.”

As she disappeared into the kitchen, Georgina and the Major rose from their table. The Major, once a big bear of a man, now moved slowly, stooped over and stepping carefully as if he were walking down the galley of a rocking ship. Georgina went to the register to pay the bill, but the Major kept motoring toward the door, slow and steady.

Sabrina was sorry to see him failing. The Major had always been kind to her. His daughter Mariah—now there was the polar opposite of her daddy. That girl could have been the prototype for one of the characters in
Mean Girls
when she was younger, and she hadn’t improved much with age.

The Major paused at Sabrina’s booth and lifted a hand toward the windows overlooking Main Street. “How’s that for snow?” he said.

“Quite a bit,” she agreed.

“Should go tobogganing,” he observed.

“I’m hoping to do some snowshoeing this weekend if we don’t get dumped on again.”

He nodded. “Good.”

Word had it that the Major was suffering from some form of cancer and that he was dying by inches. Sabrina couldn’t be sure if he really knew who she was, but really, did it matter?

By contrast, his wife passed by with a scowl and a prim nod. That was Georgina’s best greeting since Sabrina had helped her ranch hands vaccinate scores of lambs the previous spring. Georgina Kincaid was quite a piece of work, but in her face you could still see some of the acclaimed beauty from her youth.

She was able to stave off the chill of Georgina’s stare when Cordelia brought her a cup of piping hot coffee. Checking her cell, she saw an afternoon and evening loaded with appointments, including a visit to the Dillinger ranch to check on the stock. And Sally still hadn’t returned her call about Buster. Another busy day, but TGIF. At least, she only had a half day of work tomorrow and Sunday ... maybe she really would get out the snowshoes and take a walk in the snow. This time of year, she was stuck in the clinic for far too many hours.

The diner was emptying out, giving her the quiet she craved. Doc Farley, who rarely worked on Fridays, waved as he left with his wife, Nora. Two men took their coats and cowboy hats from hooks by the door. Sabrina didn’t recognize them, but one nodded a greeting and the other touched the brim of his hat. That’s how folks were around here, friendly, making a point to say hello. It was one of the aspects of small-town life that had kept her here in Prairie Creek when her mom had fled to a larger city.

She was cradling the hot mug when the door jangled and in bustled Sally Jamison. She waited on the slate landing, scanning the restaurant with her hands on her hips.

“Sally?” Sabrina called, lifting a hand. She really didn’t want the queen of gab to join her, but they did have business to transact.

Sally bustled over. “I’m not ignoring your call, I’ve just got so many plates in the air, and if Pilar doesn’t make a decision on her flowers soon, they’re all going to come crashing down.”

“No worries. Do you want to join me?”

“No can do,” Sally declined, but she slid onto the banquette opposite Sabrina anyway. “I’m meeting Pilar here to get the house measurements and go over some final choices.
Final
being the operative word.”

“I was calling about Buster. You got my message that he has a urinary tract infection? You’ll need to continue his medication. You can pick him up when you have a free minute, any time before six.”

“You must think I’m a terrible mommy, not getting back to you sooner.”

“I know you’re busy.”

“Crazy is more like it. I just got an order for twenty more wreaths for the Boy Scouts. Twenty! Mia and I are going to be up all night bending wires.” She looked up at the wall clock. “I’ll head over to pick Buster up, just as soon as I finish here with Pilar.”

“Renee has your instructions and paperwork all ready for you.”

“Thank you for taking such good care of my baby.”

“You’re very welcome.”

Sabrina expected Sally to get up and find Pilar, but she settled in and hunkered closer. “So”—she folded her hands on the table—“did you hear that the cops found an abandoned car out at Big Bart’s, some little Honda, I think, and the car’s owner, a young woman, has been missing since the Saturday after Thanksgiving.”

“Uh-oh.” Sabrina sipped her coffee, thinking that it was a long time to be missing, especially in this weather. “Have they released any details?”

“Only that she lives in California.”

“I wonder what she was doing out this way.”

Sally shrugged.

Sabrina hoped that the florist was exaggerating the details of the young woman’s disappearance. “I’m going to start locking my doors.” The front door opened. Sabrina caught a glimpse of Pilar stomping snow off her boots and her heart sank.

Sally lifted her head, spied Pilar just as the door shut. “Pilar?” she called, waving. “Over here!”

No, not over here,
Sabrina wanted to say. The place was dead and there were plenty of other tables. But all at once Cordelia appeared with her burger, and Pilar was right beside her with a big hello and a little wiggle of the hand, telling Sabrina to scoot over.

“I haven’t seen you out at the ranch in a while,” she told Sabrina as she sat down beside her.

“I guess you just miss me. I’m there at least once a week. Out in the barn. Sometimes the stables.”

“That explains it. This time of year, I don’t go out there much.” The smile on her lips fell away as Pilar turned to Sally. “I got your message and my heart is broken. Tell me you’ve found some birds of paradise?”

“I have, but it’s not that simple.” Sally looked up as Cordelia approached the table again. “I’ll have a tuna salad on toast, please.”

Pilar ordered a fruit salad and a lemon water. “I’m just back from Denver, so I’m having a little culture shock again. Everything here is . . . different.”

Some of us like Prairie Creek just fine,
Sabrina thought. She bit into her burger and kept her thoughts to herself, not that she had a chance to get a word in with Sally and Pilar who had started blathering over flower and measurement crises.

“What do you mean?” Sally said to Pilar. “I thought you were bringing me the measurements today. We can’t start the garland without them.”

“No. You said you were coming out to the place while I was in Denver, to get them yourself,” Pilar insisted. “I’m sure I told you that I don’t even know what to measure and, really, I don’t have the time for this.”

“And I said I was too busy. I offered to send Mia, but you said Ira didn’t want her poking around the house.”

Pilar rolled her eyes and sighed. “How am I supposed to manage all this on my own? I should never have let Ira talk me out of hiring a wedding planner.”

“Maybe you should talk to Ricki,” Sally suggested. “She’s been a big-city girl for a while and she’s there at the ranch. She could have some great ideas and—”

“Oh, Ricki,” Pilar said in disgust. “She’s too busy helping her father run the ranch. Besides, she was a cop. Not exactly a high-fashion profession. I swear, there’s going to be a wedding catastrophe if I don’t get someone to help me pull this thing together.”

Sabrina kept her gaze on her salad, just in case Pilar got any ideas about hooking her in. But apparently playing doctor to the livestock also failed to rate high enough to deal with wedding decisions, in Pilar’s mind.

“I’m sure one of Ira’s other daughters will give you a hand once they get here,” Sally said. “In the meantime, I need to get going on the garland for your house ... the church, too.”

Pilar squeezed her eyes shut for a second, then, when she opened them, seemed to be in control again. “Fine. Just send Mia over. Tell her to come tomorrow afternoon. I’ll deal with Ira. We’re doing a dress rehearsal in the church at four. She can come to the house and measure there first, then I’ll make sure she gets into the Pioneer Church while we’re there. Reverend Landon is a little sensitive about people breezing in and out of his church while a service is going on.”

“Tomorrow afternoon then.” Sally tried to pour oil on troubled waters and forced a smile as she smoothed her napkin on her lap. Fortunately, at that moment Cordelia arrived with their food. “Trust me, Mia will take care of everything.”

“Right.” Unimpressed, Pilar examined a cube of pineapple on the tines of her fork, then popped it in her mouth.

“Any chance she’ll run into Colton while she’s out at the ranch?” Sally asked. Sabrina tried not to react as Sally went on. “You know how she is about the Dillingers.”

“Oh, yes,” Pilar said tightly. “Doesn’t everyone?”

Sally nodded. “You know, Mia never lets any of us forget that it was Colton who saved her from the fire.”

“She’s got to be ten years older than he is,” Pilar pointed out as she raised an eyebrow.

Sabrina thought,
Careful, Pilar. Do you know what people in town are saying about you?

Sally pursed her lips in a mixture of sympathy and bewilderment. “It’s just that he’s all she’s been talking about lately.”

Pilar shook her head. “I don’t think Colt’s coming. Ira flew up to Montana to try and persuade him, but Colt won’t budge. Poor Ira. His son is breaking his heart, but then that’s nothing new for Colton Dillinger, is it?”

Sabrina dropped a crust from the bun onto her plate as the conversation finally moved on. For once, Pilar Larson had spoken the truth, and it killed her to no end that she still had feelings for Colt.

 

 

The years seemed to evaporate as Colton sped down the state road that cut through the canyon and followed the winding path of the creek from which the town had taken its name. Guarded on either side by hills that rose to craggy mountains, Prairie Creek Valley widened to the south, closer to the Rocking D, which was located ten miles out of town and included thousands of acres of ranch land. He slowed as the gateway that marked the entrance to the Rocking D Ranch came into view. Something in his chest sparked—the desire for home, though it wasn’t his home anymore, hadn’t been for years.

His tires sang over the cattle guard, and then acres of white surrounded him, sparkling in the gold of the setting sun. Dillinger land stretched out all the way to the snow-capped shale mountains. His teeth locked as he passed the spur of road leading to the old homestead house. Did the place still smell of death and heartache?

A handful of small trucks were parked in the drive of the main house, and workmen’s ladders were still leaning up against the house. White lights lined the windows and doors of the first floor, giving the house a golden glow against the snow.

Christmas lights. So Mom’s tradition was being carried on.

The minute Colt cut the engine, Montana lifted his head from the backseat where he’d been sleeping and started barking. “Let’s check it out, buddy,” he said, climbing out of the cab. The dog jumped out and began turning circles in the snow while Colton stared up at the cedar and glass building that looked more like a modern cathedral than a ranch house. He didn’t recognize anyone working on the Christmas lights, but then it had been years since he’d spent any amount of time here.

Montana sniffed the fence posts, then trailed Colton as he climbed the porch steps, rang the doorbell and wondered about the best way to get past Pilar to his son.

His son.

His throat felt thick at the thought of having a kid in this world. Well, maybe something good had come out of his time with Pilar. He’d been so young and brash back then. He’d liked ranching, but working under his father’s rule had crushed his spirit. He’d missed Sabrina, but he’d known that he wasn’t what she needed. Not then. Not when he only thought about roping and riding and how to escape Prairie Creek and the aftermath of the fire that had taken his uncle.

Pilar . . . she’d been a distraction. And in those days, he’d been looking for one. Luckily he’d found Margo and then they had Darcy . . .

His chest constricted and he hitched his duffel farther up his shoulder and stepped inside the house. Montana followed him in, claws tapping on the wood. The dog paused and smelled the molding, and Colton found himself taking a deep breath, too, as he headed down the long hall to the back of the house.