Tucker pulled up in front of the Stagecoach Saloon, which his sister and brother, fraternal twins, owned. “I’m at the saloon.”
“If I don’t talk to you later, have fun on your date.”
“I’ll try.” But as he disconnected, he didn’t think it was that kind of date. He was curious as hell about Kate Rothschild. But for the life of him he couldn’t understand how Kate could have anything to do with Madeline, which made what he’d witnessed at the creek all that more intriguing. Add to that, she’d said they had something in common with the bones found in the creek.
His cell rang before he could exit his pickup. He saw it was Flint again and picked up.
“Tuck,” his brother said without preamble. “Be careful on your date tonight. I just looked Kate Rothschild up on the internet. She’s an award-winning investigative reporter for a big New York newspaper. I can’t imagine what she’s doing in Gilt Edge, unless she’s interested in the remains found in the creek. In which case, she might also be interested in you. Is there any way she could have known about you and Madeline?”
KATE WAS STILL upset after the phone call. She’d known how her mother felt. She’d even accepted that her mother did her best to avoid anything unpleasant in life by changing the story. That meant telling the new, improved story until she actually believed it was true. Was it any wonder Mamie Rothschild’s daughter had become an investigative reporter so there was at least a little truth in her life?
Moving away from the window, she thought about her date tonight. The elusive Tucker Cahill was certainly making this easier for her. She’d been suspicious when she’d learned that he’d left town nineteen years ago—right after graduating from high school. Right after Madeline seemed to have dropped off the face of the earth. Now, she didn’t have to ask what had brought him back given what she already knew about him. She just hadn’t expected it to be this easy.
Now that she’d met him, she had to admit, he wasn’t what she’d expected. The cowboy was bigger, stronger looking, more solid—almost to the point of being intimidating. He reminded her of some of the romance-novel-cover models, with the rock-hard chest, smooth bronze skin and washboard stomach. No wonder women found that kind of man...appealing. She would love to get a load of Tucker’s bare chest.
He looked only a little like his yearbook photos that she’d seen from before he’d left Gilt Edge. She wondered where he’d been, what exactly had kept him away as well as how he’d kept in such great shape and if she would have a chance to see him with his shirt off.
Speculating about his incredible physique kept her mind off how dangerous a game she was playing. Her parents had the right to be worried for her. Still, she had to laugh at where her mind had taken her. She wasn’t immune to a handsome man, but she’d never dated one like Tucker Cahill. She’d always stayed clear of cowboys on the family ranch. The men she’d dated were clones of her father. Like Peter. Men her father would approve of.
She smiled to herself as she thought of what her father would make of Tucker Cahill with his too-long dark hair and those gray eyes fringed with long dark eyelashes, not to mention the chiseled jaw. Wouldn’t her father have a fit if she’d ever brought home someone like him?
Katie opened her overnight bag and frowned. She’d packed what she needed for a short stay. No way had she planned on going on a date. Asking Tucker out had been impulsive, not that she regretted it on any level.
With a sigh, though, she picked up her shoulder bag, leaving the gun behind for this trip. She’d have to walk downtown and see if she could find something to wear tonight. Glancing in the mirror by the door, she took in the jeans, T-shirt and tennis shoes she was wearing. Not exactly date attire. She had planned on doing some exploring at the crime scene—before Tucker had seen her and she’d taken off.
He’d changed her plans. Tonight, though, she would find out just how much he knew before she decided how he was going to help her get what she wanted. Her mother had always encouraged her to dress for success. Tonight she was going to do just that.
* * *
TUCKER’S SISTER, LILLIE, saw him first. She’d been standing at the bar rubbing her protruding stomach. When she spotted him, she dropped her hand, her eyes widening and quickly filling with tears, before she screamed his name.
“Tucker!”
He moved to her to take her in his arms. “Hey, little sis. What happened to you?” he asked with a laugh. “What ya got in there, my nephew or niece?”
Lillie was crying too hard to answer. Tucker looked to his brother Darby, who came around the bar. He stuck out his hand. “Darby, dang, you two are a sight for sore eyes. You’re all grown-up.” They’d been nine when he’d left.
A few regulars at the bar were craning their necks to see what was going on.
“Are you back?” Darby asked.
Tucker nodded. “Sorry it took me so long. I’ll tell you all about it, but I can’t right now. I have a date.”
“A date?” Lillie demanded, finally finding her voice as she pulled back to look at him. “A date your first night home?”
“You sound like Flint.”
“He knows you’re back?”
Tucker laughed, hearing the jealousy in her voice. “I’m staying at the ranch and I haven’t seen Hawk and Cyrus yet, but I had to stop by and see the two of you. We’ll all get together soon and catch up, I promise.”
Lillie wiped her eyes, her hand going to her stomach again. “You haven’t even met my husband, Trask, or Darby’s wife, Mariah, yet. Or Billie Dee.”
“Billie Dee?”
“The best cook in Montana, probably the whole US,” Lillie said adamantly.
He laughed. “I will meet them all. I’ll catch up on everything, but right now I have to run.” He kissed his sister on the cheek and waved to Darby. “It’s so great to see the two of you again.”
“Did Flint tell you a package arrived for you?” Lillie asked.
Tucker had forgotten about it for a while. “He did.” He could see that Lillie was busting at the seams to know what was inside. “It was just somethin’ I sent on ahead of me. No big deal.” She looked disappointed. “No mystery. Sorry.”
But as he left, he couldn’t help but wonder who’d sent the doll and what exactly the message had been.
As he walked to his pickup, though, he saw that he’d gotten a different kind of message. Someone had stuck a folded piece of paper under his driver’s-side windshield wiper.
He looked around before pulling it out. As he opened it, he saw the girlie lettering and felt a chill. He knew it was impossible, but he would have sworn it was Madeline’s handwriting.
It read: You shouldn’t have come back.
* * *
AFTER A QUICK shopping trip downtown, Kate was ready when she got the call that her date was waiting for her downstairs.
Her date? This wasn’t a date. This wasn’t even work. This was about justice, plain and simple. So how did she explain the butterflies? She hadn’t had butterflies the first time she went out with Peter or any other man that she could remember.
So why was she so nervous about going out with Tucker Cahill? She’d met her share of handsome cowboys. What made Tucker Cahill different?
It wasn’t