He tipped his hat. “Sorry to bother you.”
She frowned, clearly waiting for him to tell her what the hell he was doing here. She had to have heard he was back in town.
“I got another call tonight about some poaching down in the river bottom,” he said.
“On my property?”
He pointed down into the thicket of tangled willows and cottonwoods. “On the place down the river, but I believe they used the river road to get in and out so they had to have gone right past your place. I was wondering if you heard anything last night? Would have probably been between two and four this morning.”
“I pulled the late shift last night so I wasn’t around. Sorry.”
He nodded and asked who else knew her schedule.
“You saying the poachers knew I would be gone last night?”
“It crossed my mind. Your place is the closest.”
She leaned against the front of her pickup, clearly not intending to ask him inside. The Little Rockies in the distance were etched a deep purple against the twilight. He noticed in the waning light that she looked exhausted.
“Rough day?” he asked, feeling the cool air come up out of the river bottom.
“You could say that.” She was studying him, waiting as if she expected him to tell her the real reason he was here.
But he’d said everything years ago and she hadn’t believed him then. No reason she’d believe him now.
He closed his notebook. “I’d appreciate it if you kept an eye out and gave me a call if you see or hear anything.”
She pushed herself off the front of her pickup. “You bet.”
“The poachers are driving a pickup, probably a half ton or three-quarter-ton four-wheel drive.”
“Like half the residents in this county,” she said.
“Narrows it right down for me.” He smiled, hat in his hand, thinking that even as exhausted as McCall was she’d never looked more beautiful. He told himself to just get in his truck and get out of there before he said something he’d regret.
She smiled, a tired almost sad smile. “Well, I hope you catch ’em.”
“Me, too.” He put on his hat, tipped it, and turned toward his pickup. As he slid behind the wheel, he saw that she’d gone inside her cabin. The lights glowed golden through the windows. He sat for a moment, wishing—
Mentally he gave himself a swift kick and started the truck, annoyed for going down that old trail of thought. From the beginning he and McCall hadn’t stood a chance, not with the bad blood between their families. He’d been a fool to think that they did.
But for a while, she’d made him believe they were destined to be together, star-crossed lovers who’d found a way. They’d been young and foolish. At least he had, he thought as he left.
He didn’t dare glance back, knowing he was wasting his time if he thought she cared a plugged nickel for him.
If he had looked back, though, he would have seen her standing in the deepening shadows of her deck, hugging herself against the cool of the night, watching him drive away.
Chapter Four
The next morning, McCall woke blurry-eyed to the sound of a vehicle driving up in her yard. She pulled on her robe and padded out to the living room as she heard someone coming across the deck, making a beeline for her front door.
It was too early for company. Had something happened?
She thought of Luke. Not him again, she hoped. Seeing him waiting for her last night had been the last straw after the day she’d had. She’d had a devil of a time getting to sleep last night and it was all Luke Crawford’s fault. What the hell was he doing back in Whitehorse, anyway?
Usually, she found peace in her cabin on the river. The place was small, but the view from her deck made up for it. She loved to sit and listen to the rustle of the cottonwood trees, watch the deer meander through the tall grass along the river’s edge and breathe in the sweet scents of the seasons.
Last night, though, after she’d watched Luke drive away, not even a beer and a hot bath had soothed what ailed her.
Now she realized she hadn’t locked the door last night. The knob turned, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw her father’s hunting license on the kitchen counter where she’d left it last night.
She quickly snatched up the license and, lifting the lid on an empty canister on the counter, dropped it inside.
She’d barely dropped the lid, when the door was flung open.
“What in the world?” she bellowed as her mother came busting in.
Her mother stopped in midstride, a cigarette dangling from one corner of her mouth. “Did I forget to knock?”
“Do you know what time it is?” McCall demanded. “What are you doing here?”
“I had to see you before I went to work,” her mother snapped back. “You might remember I work early.”
Before McCall could wonder what was so important that it had her mother here at the crack of dawn, Ruby enlightened her.
“I can’t believe you went out to the Winchesters’. What were you thinking?” her mother demanded. “Now that old woman is threatening to have you arrested? It’s all over town.”
McCall leaned against the kitchen counter. “Why is it that anything I do is always all over town within minutes?”
Ruby waved a hand through the air as if it was too obvious. “You’re a Winchester.”
McCall sighed. “Only by name.” A name she’d often regretted.
“You’re Trace Winchester’s daughter.”
As if that were something to celebrate, McCall thought, but was smart enough not to voice that sentiment to her mother, especially in the mood Ruby was in. No matter what
