Atonement. B.J. Daniels
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that he’d tried when they were younger didn’t count. He should have tried harder, he thought as he put the photos and newspaper clippings back in the drawer where he kept them. Ethan was gone. He had to accept that. Or at least try to live with it.
But the woman had left him stirred up. He couldn’t work with the filly now. The horse would sense his tension. He’d thought he was handling the one-year anniversary of his brother’s death fairly well—until the woman had shown up.
Gathering himself up, he decided the best thing he could do was some good, hard, physical labor. He headed for the horse stalls. Nothing like mucking stalls to wear himself out.
It had been a mild winter. Today the sun felt warm on his back as he walked to the barn, but the breeze had a nip to it, and he’d heard on the radio earlier that there was talk of snow in the mountains in the next day or so.
Spring in Montana could be a terrible tease. One day would be beautiful and the next as much like winter as a day in January. Dillon had seen thirty-six springs come and go. His father used to say a bad Montana spring after a long winter was what separated the men from the boys.
Maybe it was true. His mother certainly hadn’t fared well on those snowy spring days. She said an unpredictable spring broke not only its promise, but ultimately your heart. Dillon figured that might also be true of the man she’d married. It probably explained, too, why his mother had left on a snowy spring day.
He shook his head at the thought. His mother should have left the old man many springs before she did. Dillon had given up hope of her ever escaping, so he’d been as shocked as his father when she’d finally done it. Not by packing up and leaving, like she should have done years before. No, it had taken an aneurysm to free her of Burt Lawson. She’d died in her sleep in the bed next to him.
Burt Lawson was a heartless bastard. Anyone who’d ever met him would tell you that, including his two sons. That was why no one had expected that Erma’s dying would break the old man the way it had—especially not Dillon. Apparently Burt had had a heart after all. Her passing had killed him, turning him into an even more bitter old man before death took him.
Dillon pushed away thoughts of the past and, entering the barn, picked up a shovel and went to work.
He spent the rest of the day doing backbreaking labor, but as hard as he tried, he couldn’t get the incident with the woman off his mind. He told himself she probably wasn’t even pregnant. There were forms a woman could buy to look that way. But his mind kept coming back to why she would come all the way to Montana when it was so easy to prove she was lying.
He hated things that made no sense. It was one reason why he’d been drawn to law enforcement. He liked to think that crimes could be solved with a cool, calm logic. He was a man who believed in justice.
Just thinking of the .45 in the woman’s shoulder bag made him sorry again that he hadn’t arrested her. She’d threatened an officer of the law with what he assumed was a loaded weapon, and she’d tried to extort money from him in the most egregious way.
Well, she’d realized her mistake once she’d seen the photos and Ethan’s obit, he thought. Her attempt to blame Dillon had failed, so she’d packed it up and left before even telling him how much money he’d allegedly stolen from her.
And that form releasing the biological father of any right to the baby... That, he was sure, had been for pure show.
After she’d learned that he was undersheriff of this county, she’d backed down quickly enough. Had she done her homework, she’d have known that. Nope, she wouldn’t be back to try to shake him down again.
So why was he wondering where she’d gone?
* * *
TESSA TRIED TO still the pounding of her heart as she drove into Big Timber. It had always been like this. The man evoked feelings and desires in her like no other man ever had. She’d seen something in him, a sweetness that he’d tried hard to hide. Wasn’t that why she’d overlooked her misgivings and let him into her heart?
She shook her head, furious with herself. After everything the man had done to her, part of her had been drawn to this rancher version of Ethan even more strongly than to the old Ethan. It was when she’d seen him working with the filly. She remembered the way his large, tanned, callused hands had stroked the horse’s neck, the soft words he’d uttered as he’d removed the halter rope.
Chastising herself under her breath, she couldn’t believe she’d let him sucker her in again, and now she was leaving without her money—or the signed form that would relinquish his rights to their child. She felt like pulling the car over and just sitting and bawling.
But Tessa swore that she wouldn’t shed any more tears for the man. She couldn’t believe he’d used his dead brother’s name. What kind of man did that?
If it was true and the real Ethan Lawson had been killed in a car wreck one year ago tomorrow, then no wonder the man she’d known hadn’t mentioned that he had an identical twin. He had stolen Ethan’s identity. Was it any surprise that a man like that would steal her heart and her money?
Sick to her stomach at the realization, she wished she’d asked for copies of the newspaper clippings. But she should be able to verify it online....
Part of her argued for putting it all behind her. How could she, though, when she was carrying the man’s baby? She couldn’t have him showing up one day and trying to take her child.
Ahead she slowed as she spotted a motel not far from the Yellowstone River just outside town. The small Western town of Big Timber, Montana, didn’t quite live up to its name. She didn’t see any big timber. The pioneers must have cut all the trees down when they’d built the town. How ironic, she thought as she pulled in front of the motel unit marked Office.
After checking in, Tessa used her phone to go online to verify Ethan’s death. She felt foolish. But when the man she’d known as Ethan had disappeared, even if he had given her his real last name, she still wouldn’t have thought to search for him online. A self-professed saddle tramp, he’d appeared to be a cowboy who worked on ranches where he got room and board. She had doubted he’d ever had an apartment, paid a utility bill or owned more than his old pickup and his saddle. Which meant no paper trail, so she hadn’t even bothered to look.
No, when he’d taken off without a word in the middle the night with her money and hadn’t returned, Tessa hadn’t gone to a computer to find him. She hadn’t planned on going after him at all. What would be the point? She certainly hadn’t wanted a man like that back.
But then she’d found a dog-eared snapshot he’d left behind, and very pregnant and running on emotions like gas fumes, she’d changed her mind about finding him. She’d wanted to look him in the eye one last time.
And now she had.
* * *
FRANK CURRY COULDN’T believe how much time had passed since he’d turned in his star and gun and walked away from the only job he’d ever loved. He’d been ready to quit being sheriff, furious with the system that couldn’t find his ex-wife, Pam Chandler, and put her behind bars.
Pam had attacked him, tried to kill the only woman he’d ever loved and done horrible things to the daughter he hadn’t known existed until a year ago.
Now as he stood looking at the calendar hanging on his kitchen wall, he was thankful that his undersheriff, Dillon Lawson, had insisted he take a leave of absence instead of quitting.
His six months were up today and he was anxious to get back to his job. He’d missed being sheriff and had come to realize how much he needed it. For months now, he’d been on a quest to find Pam and put an end to the horrible things she’d done to the people he loved. He’d been crazed and was now thankful he’d finally found peace.
Glancing up, he peered out the window at his ranch yard and realized what had caught his eye. A bird had landed on the telephone line that ran from his house to the barn.
Frank blinked,