Sheltered By The Cowboy

“Bitterroot has always been a charitable town,” Cassie agreed.

The three of them visited for just a few more minutes and then Mandy continued her quest for perfect Christmas gifts. By the time she made her way home, she’d bought a beautiful eternity scarf for her mother, a bottle of cologne for her brother and a black leather wallet for her father. He’d probably hate it, but at least she’d tried.

She’d also picked up a pair of earrings in the shape of reindeer that lit up for Daisy. The flamboyant café owner would get a hoot out of them. With Mandy’s packages in a large shopping bag, she headed home.

The studio apartment above the detached garage had originally been rented out to make extra money, but four years ago the last tenant had moved out and Mandy had convinced her father to rent it to her.

It wasn’t huge, but there was a living room space with a sofa, a chair and a small kitchenette. There was still enough room left over for her queen-size bed shoved against a wall, a dresser and the bathroom.

The Wright ranch was relatively large, with lots of good pasture and a wooded area with beautiful shade trees. But it had been years since her father had actually worked the ranch. Now he preferred either sitting in his recliner and complaining about his life, or heading to the Watering Hole, where he could try to drink away those complaints.

As she prepared to wrap the silky scarf in shiny silver paper, her thoughts turned to her mother. Mandy had only a few memories of the woman who had given birth to her, and all of them were pleasant ones. Her mother had loved music and often sang as she cleaned or cooked. She had also been a beautiful woman and Mandy had been told by people in town that she looked just like her.

Her brother, Graham, had been a terrific big brother until the day he’d left. At first she’d thought he’d come back to get her, but she’d given up on that belief years ago.

By nine o’clock the tree was up on a small table in the living room area and all the presents were wrapped and under the tree. She sat on the sofa for a few minutes and admired the way the little white lights shone on the silver-and-red ornaments.

Christmas could be a little depressing for her since most of the time she celebrated alone. But she always tried to focus on positive things to keep the blues away.

With the tree up and the presents wrapped, she ate a chicken salad sandwich and changed into her pajamas. Finally she got into bed with her cell phone and considered calling Brody.

It would be nice to end the pleasant night as she had the night before, with Brody’s deep voice the last sound she heard before falling asleep. She decided not to call him. She didn’t want to seem too forward and wind up pushing him away.

She slept without dreams and awakened to the sound of her alarm. It was six fifteen. She would have loved to linger in bed, but her father was usually an early riser and liked his breakfast around seven.

She showered and dressed in the yellow T-shirt and black slacks that were her café uniform, then grabbed her purse and headed toward the big two-story house in the distance.

Over the past couple of years she’d tried to convince her father to sell the ranch and move closer to town. He didn’t need the land or the huge house, but he’d refused to consider it. She’d thought about moving into an apartment in town but knew her father depended on her rent money to help pay the bills.

The eastern sky was just starting to light as she unlocked the back door and stepped into the large kitchen. The sound of the television drifting in from the living room let her know her father was already up.

She shrugged off her coat and hung it on the back of a chair at the table, then moved to the coffee maker on the counter. Before greeting him she needed to get the coffee going. George Wright without his morning coffee was definitely an irritable bear.

As she waited, she looked around the kitchen, remembering the old days when they sat at the table as a family, the old days when her mother had been alive and Graham had been home.

When there was enough fresh brew, she filled a cup and left the kitchen. “Morning, Dad,” she said cheerfully as she entered the living room.

She could see the back of his head above the black leather recliner chair that faced the television, but he didn’t answer her.

Great, he wasn’t speaking to her...again. He was probably mad at her for going shopping the night before and leaving him to warm up his own dinner.

“Dad?” She rounded the chair and froze in horror.

Her father’s brown eyes stared blankly forward. His slashed throat gaped wide and blood had splashed down the front of him. There was no question that he was dead.

“No.” The cup of coffee slipped from her hand and crashed to the hardwood floor as a scream released from her.

* * *

Brody lingered over a cup of coffee in the cowboy dining room, listening as Sawyer and Mac McBride discussed the weather and the forecast for a dryer winter than usual.

If it had been springtime the men would already be out of here and doing morning chores in the field, but in winter the schedule was far more lax.

Aside from providing feed and water for the cattle and taking care of the horses, they spent most of their time repairing and maintaining equipment.

He tuned out their conversation and instead found himself thinking about Mandy. He’d been surprised when she’d called him two nights before just to chat. Brody didn’t just “chat” with anyone, but he’d found it impossible to remain stoic and distant with her. She was so bubbly and happy, and he found her remarkably easy to talk to.

They’d discussed the people they knew and their love of the small town of Bitterroot. He’d told her about the latest movie he’d seen and she talked about how many people loved ketchup on their scrambled eggs.

“Earth to Brody,” Sawyer said, pulling Brody out of his thoughts.

“Sorry. What did you say?” Brody asked.

“We want you to talk to Cassie about putting up a new shed first thing in the spring,” Mac said.

“You know we had plans to replace the old one when we pulled down the storm-damaged one, but discovering those skeletons put everything on hold,” Sawyer added. “And as you also know, we need the extra storage space.”

“We can’t do anything before spring, but I’ll mention it to her,” Brody replied at the same time his cell phone rang.

He frowned and dug it out of his pocket, surprised to see Mandy’s number. Why would she be calling him this early in the morning? He didn’t mind her calling him occasionally, but not during work hours. He excused himself, got up and walked away from the men at the table. He then answered.

“Brody, my father is dead.” Her voice exploded over the line, a combination of horror and tears. “He’s...he’s in his chair and somebody murdered him...they slashed his throat and...and blood...there’s so much blood.”

Every muscle in his body tensed. “Mandy, have you called Dillon?”

“I... No, not yet.” There was a long moment of her weeping.

“Mandy, call Dillon and when he arrives, don’t say anything to anyone and don’t touch anything. I’ll be right there.” Brody hung up and hurried over to Sawyer and Mac. “I’m heading out and I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

“What’s going on?” Sawyer asked.

“Mandy Wright’s father has been murdered.” Brody didn’t waste time saying another word. He hurried out the door and ran to the shed that held the cowboys’ personal vehicles.

The cold air was biting, but not as cold as the thoughts that flew through his head. George Wright murdered? There was no way in hell Brody believed Mandy was responsible for her father’s death.

Others would say she had opportunity and some would believe she had motive. Brody certainly wasn’t a lawyer, but she would be the first suspect unless the killer had left a specific calling card.

He knew what it was like to be a suspect. He and all the other men who worked the Holiday Ranch had been suspects first in the seven murders that had taken place so long ago and then more recently when one of their own ranch hands had been murdered. It was easy to appear guilty of a crime even if you had nothing to do with it.

He drove like a bat out of hell, the sound of Mandy’s horrified weeping echoing in his head. He never wanted to hear another woman crying with that kind of pain and terror.

Terror... Oh God, was the murderer still in the house with her? Was she in danger right now? Damn, he should have told her to get out of the house.

He slowed long enough to turn in to the long driveway that led to the Wright home. The morning sun shone bright on the white paint of the two-story house.

He recognized both George’s and Mandy’s cars and realized he had beaten Dillon and his men to the scene of the crime. He parked and hurried out of the truck. He raced to the front door and knocked. It opened and Mandy flew into his arms.

She buried her face in the crook of his neck as deep sobs wrenched through her. He held her tight and stroked her back in an effort to calm her.