Chase's Promise. Lois Dyer Faye
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Raine turned, her eyes widening.
Chase was handsome in faded jeans and dusty cowboy boots, but in a tuxedo, he could stop traffic. “Hello,” she managed to say.
“Hello.” His gaze swept her from head to toe, then returned with disconcerting slowness until he looked into her eyes again. The heat in his own eyes left no doubt that he liked what he saw.
Raine felt his slow survey as if he’d stroked his hand over her bare skin. Her body reacted with heat that began low in her belly, spreading quickly until she burned.
“So,” she said nervously. “How does it feel to be consorting with the enemy?”
He laughed, the deep chuckle reverberating up her spine.
“Ask me again when this is over. I’ll let you know.”
Dear Reader,
Before I became a published author, I worked in the legal field. As I sat in courtrooms and listened to judges handing down jail sentences, I often wondered what happened to those convicted people and their families after their day in court. How did being incarcerated affect a person’s character? What happened to their loved ones while they were locked away in a jail cell? And how did the experience change and shape all of their lives five, ten or fifteen years later?
Those questions and exploring possible answers became the heart of THE MCCLOUDS series. Chase McCloud was changed irrevocably when he was unjustly convicted as a teenager—and the events leading to his imprisonment also changed Raine Harper’s life forever. Fifteen years later, is it possible these two people can heal old hurts for both their families and forge a future together?
I hope you enjoy Chase and Raine’s story, and that you’ll return to Wolf Creek with me for the fourth and last installment in THE MCCLOUDS OF MONTANA when Trey Harper is determined to expose long-hidden secrets and bring justice to the McClouds.
Best wishes,
Lois Faye Dyer
Chase’s Promise
Lois Faye Dyer
LOIS FAYE DYER
lives on Washington State’s beautiful Puget Sound with her yellow Lab, Maggie Mae, and two eccentric cats. She loves to hear from readers and you can write to her c/o Paperbacks Plus, 1618 Bay Street, Port Orchard, WA 98366.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter One
Wolf Creek, Montana
Early Spring
C hase McCloud stared at his grandfather’s casket, ignoring the group of mourners huddled beneath umbrellas on the far side of the open grave. The wind picked up, carrying the scent of sage as it whipped the prairie with a flurry of icy raindrops.
His little sister shivered, clutching his hand tighter, and he bent toward her. “Are you okay, Jessie?” he asked gently, scanning her tear-streaked face.
She nodded beneath the mop of auburn curls, but her expression was filled with fear as she darted a glance over her shoulder.
Chase squeezed her hand reassuringly.
Anger coursing through him, he knew without looking what frightened Jessie. A uniformed Montana Department of Corrections officer stood several yards behind them. The officer had removed Chase’s handcuffs when they’d arrived at the cemetery and the metal restraints were clipped on the police issue leather belt, just behind his holstered gun. The officer had respected the family’s grief and stood silently. Nonetheless, Chase was aware the man’s attention never wavered; he swore he could almost feel the officer’s searing scrutiny.
Chase focused on the mahogany casket, purposely blanking his mind to all else. Fresh grief slammed through him. His grandfather had been a powerful, guiding influence in his life. The knowledge that Angus McCloud would no longer give him wise advice, that Chase would never again hear him laugh with delight over a new joke, was incomprehensible.
Tears burned behind his eyelids. He narrowed his eyes, forbidding the tears to fall. Raising his gaze from the casket, he turned his focus to the mourners on the far side of the grave.
His grandfather’s lifelong friends and neighbors had known Chase for all of his seventeen years but now they either refused to meet his eyes or glared at him with accusation and disdain.
Clearly, few of them believed he’d been jailed unjustly.
Chase sighted the five members of the Kerrigan family. Fifteen-year-old Zach Kerrigan stood next to his mother and little sister, his stance protective. Just beyond them was Laura Kerrigan-McCloud, Angus McCloud’s widow.
He still didn’t understand why his grandfather had married Laura Kerrigan. They were both in their late seventies when they’d wed despite the vehement protests of both their families. The marriage appeared to bring a quiet contentment for Angus but hadn’t drawn the families any closer together. The McClouds had been feuding with the Kerrigans since 1922, when a crooked poker game cost a McCloud 2500 acres of prime land. Over the years, the two families had argued and fought over a variety of grievances and there was no love lost between them—except for Angus and Laura.
Now the white-haired widow stood apart from her late husband’s family, leaning heavily on the arm of her nephew, Harlan Kerrigan.
Harlan’s gaze met Chase’s and the older man’s lip curled in a sneer. Despite the bitter rage that swelled in his chest, Chase didn’t react, just looked away. Harlan’s son, Lonnie hadn’t come.
It’s probably a good thing Lonnie’s not here, Chase thought. Granddad’s funeral is hard enough on Mom and Dad. Not the place for me to meet Lonnie.
He swept the crowd again, hoping to catch a glimpse of any members of the Harper family but none of them were at the graveside.
The stab of loss and regret was unavoidable. Chase steeled himself against letting the pain change his expression.
He and Mike Harper had been best friends since grade school and now Mike’s family with no doubt believed Chase was responsible for his death. The twelve people sitting on the Wolf Creek jury certainly had—they’d convicted him of vehicular manslaughter, based on the testimony of Harlan and Lonnie Kerrigan.
I’m the only one who knows it’s not true. Once again he met Harlan Kerrigan’s hostile gaze. Correction, he thought grimly. Both Harlan and Lonnie know who really killed Mike.
Seething with bitterness, Chase focused on the casket once again, concentrating on breathing in and out with slow, measured inhales and exhales. He’d learned the method from a tough, no-nonsense guard at the correctional facility a week after he’d arrived at the institution. Defending himself in a brawl in the exercise yard had resulted in a six-inch knife wound and the guard had taken him to the infirmary to have the deep cut stitched. Following the guard’s advice, he’d signed up for meditation classes. Combined with long hours spent weight lifting and working out, after two months he’d become strong enough to enforce his desire for solitude. As a result, the other inmates now left him alone.
Alone was just fine; being left alone was what he wanted. He planned to do his time and get