Sheltered By The Cowboy

“It’s going to be okay, Mandy,” he murmured.

“No, it’s not,” she cried. “He’s gone and now I’ll never have the chance to have a better relationship with him. Nothing is ever going to be okay again.” She cried even harder and there was nothing Brody could do to comfort her other than hold her while she wept.

He was still holding her when Chief of Police Dillon Bowie arrived along with two other patrol cars and three of his men. As they parked and then approached the house, Brody finally released Mandy.

“Brody,” Dillon greeted him with a touch of surprise in his gray eyes and then turned toward Mandy. “Where is he?”

“In the family room,” Mandy replied and began to cry again.

The four men went into the house, and Brody led Mandy through the small living room and into the kitchen. “Sit,” he said and gently pushed her down into one of the chairs at the table.

He noticed the nearly full coffeepot on the counter and searched the cabinets until he found two mugs. He poured them each a cup and then sat next to her.

Tears clung to her long lashes as she wrapped her fingers around the coffee mug. “I don’t believe this is happening.” She gazed up at him, her eyes dark and pain-filled. “Please tell me this is a nightmare and I’m going to wake up and everything will be fine.”

“You know I can’t tell you that,” he replied with a gentleness he hadn’t even known he possessed.

She stared down into the mug for several long minutes. The only sounds in the room were the low male voices drifting in from the family room.

“Tell me what you did last night.”

Once again she looked up at him, this time with a tiny frown line etched across her brow. “I worked at the café until about six and then went shopping. I got home about eight, wrapped some presents and went to bed.”

“Alone?”

He regretted the question the minute it left his lips. A flash of new pain radiated from her eyes. “Yes, alone,” she replied curtly.

At that moment Dillon walked into the kitchen. “Mandy, I’m so sorry for your loss. We’re waiting now for Teddy to arrive. In the meantime, can I ask you a few questions?” Teddy was Ted Lymon, the medical examiner.

Mandy nodded and Dillon sat in the chair opposite her. “Why would somebody do that to my father? Who would do something like this?” she asked, the words laced with pain.

“That’s what I’m going to try to figure out,” Dillon replied. “Tell me exactly what happened this morning.”

Mandy’s pale face and shaking fingers spoke of her despair as she told Dillon about getting up that morning, dressing and then coming into the house to fix her father breakfast.

“Were any of the doors unlocked?” he asked.

“I know the front door wasn’t because I used my key to get in, and I can see from here that the back door is still locked,” she replied.

“I’ve got Ben looking at all the windows to check if entry was gained through one of them,” Dillon said.

“Do you have an idea of the time of death?” Brody asked.

“Teddy will have to make the official call, but I’d guess sometime in the middle of the night,” Dillon replied. “Which brings me to my next question. I know you were shopping yesterday evening, but what did you do after that?”

“I came home and wrapped some presents...” she began.

“And then I came over and spent the night with her.” Brody was grateful Mandy didn’t look as surprised as he felt as the alibi fell from his lips.

Jeez, what had he just done?

Chapter 4 (#ubf8d1cbe-b218-5df4-88b5-c52aea6ecee4)

The next four days went by in a haze for Mandy. She made her father’s funeral arrangements and kept in close touch with Dillon about the progress of the investigation. She didn’t know how she would have gotten through it all without Brody as a calm and steady presence beside her.

She’d been shocked when he’d told Dillon that he’d been with her on the night of her father’s murder. He’d gone even further and told the lawman to check with Fred Ferguson, who would attest to the fact that he and Mandy had also been together on the night of the snowstorm.

She now stood at the front door of the house, waiting for Brody to pick her up for the funeral. It was a beautiful afternoon in the midforties. The sun shone brightly and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky.

Grief had also been a big part of the time that had passed since her father’s murder. She wasn’t sure she grieved for the man himself as much as for the relationship she’d wanted—she’d needed—from him and now would have no opportunity to ever gain.

There were still so many things she had to take care of. She’d been shocked to learn her father had a will on file with an attorney in town and he’d left her everything. In the event of her death her brother would be the beneficiary of what little estate there might be.

Brody had advised her not to make any decisions about things until she’d given herself time to fully grieve, but she’d already decided to clear out the house and put it on the market to sell. She would move to someplace in town, maybe a small house where she could build a life that didn’t include the memories of a father who had been so hateful, a man she’d desperately wanted to love her.

She had no idea how many people might attend the funeral this afternoon. She’d been shocked in the last couple of days to realize how many people disliked her father. She knew how he’d treated her, but she hadn’t known that he’d carried that same hateful attitude outside the house.

As Brody’s truck came up the lane toward the house, she couldn’t help the way her heart beat just a little faster. Although he hadn’t touched her in any way since the day she’d discovered her father dead, he’d been the best kind of friend she could ever ask for, and surely that was why her heart quickened at the sight of him.

She turned and hurried to the kitchen to retrieve her purse from the table. By the time she returned to the front door, he was out of his truck and approaching the porch.

Brody Booth in jeans and a flannel shirt was sexy, but Brody in a dark suit coat and slacks was off the charts. She stepped out on the porch, then closed and locked the door behind her.

“Are you ready for this?” he asked as they walked to his truck.

“I guess I’m as ready as I’m going to be. At least I’ve finally stopped crying all the time.”

He opened the passenger door and she slid inside. The truck interior smelled like him...the pleasant scents of sunshine and the outdoors and his woodsy cologne.

“What have you heard from Dillon?” he asked once he was in the truck and had started the engine.

“He called me last night to ask if I knew anything about a pushing and shoving fight my father had last Saturday night at the Watering Hole.”

“Who was he pushing and shoving with?”

“Lloyd Green. Apparently Dad owed Lloyd some money and Lloyd tried to collect.”

“So, did Dillon say that Lloyd was a suspect in the case?”

“Dillon seems to be playing things close to the vest, but I would assume Lloyd is a suspect.” Lloyd worked for Raymond Humes, but that was about all she knew about the older man.

They fell silent and she stared out the window at the barren winter landscape. What would happen after today? When the ceremony was over, would Brody go his own way?

He hadn’t exactly signed up for all this. Of course, when he’d offered up the alibi to Dillon, he had to have known that he’d bound them together, at least for a little while.

She was shocked by the new piercing pain that shot through her as she thought of going on without Brody in her life. She’d felt so alone before the night of the snowstorm and his friendship was definitely what was helping her get through these horrible, difficult days.

As he turned in to the Bitterroot Cemetery entrance, she was surprised to see a number of cars parked in the lot. There had been no visitation so this was the one and only opportunity people would have to say a final goodbye to George Wright.