after all these years, he could remember the sound of the breeze in the leaves overhead, the sweet scent of the wild grasses, the cool coming up off the creek, the heat of her body against his.
It was in the shade of those trees that he’d first told her he loved her. They’d both been seventeen the first time they’d made love under that tree. It had been the first for both of them. Jessica had cried afterward and told him he would always be the only one for her. He’d told her he’d never let anyone hurt her again.
Colton drove past the Granger place, glancing in the direction of the house, as he had done for the last fourteen years. The house was set back off the road, almost hidden in a stand of trees. He never passed it without thinking of Jessica.
As he drove by the barbed-wire fence that marked the end of the Granger property and the beginning of Chisholm land, he slowed. Seeing no other vehicles coming down the road from either direction, he pulled in, stopping short of the barbed-wire gate.
The gate into this part of the Chisholm ranch property was seldom if ever used. The barbed wire had cut deep into the wooden posts, a sure sign that no one had been back in years. Once opened, he drove through the gate, then got out and closed it behind him.
The way in could hardly be called a road. It was a dirt path through some rugged terrain. Grass grew up between the two ruts, scraping the underside of his pickup as he drove until he reached the creek and the path petered out.
Parking in a gully where his pickup couldn’t be seen from either the road or the Granger property, he walked the rest of the way, following the creek—just as he’d done as a teenager on his way to meet Jessica.
That night Jessica would have sneaked out of her parents’ house and taken the back way, along the creek and through the barbed-wire fence onto Chisholm property, following the creek to the secret meeting place.
It had been Jessica who’d found the spot one night after a fight with her father. She’d wandered down the creek bank for half a mile to an oxbow surrounded by tall trees. She’d crawled through the barbed-wire fence onto Chisholm land—and realized she’d found the perfect place for them to meet in secret, her father being none the wiser.
Colton slowed his steps as he saw the tops of the trees in the distance and remembered the anticipation he’d felt each time he was to meet her all those years ago.
When he saw their secret spot, he stopped short. Jessica Granger had been his first real girlfriend, although they’d been forced to keep it secret because of her father. Sid Granger didn’t want his daughter having anything to do with those wild Chisholm boys and no matter what Colton did, he couldn’t convince him otherwise.
The spot didn’t look as if anyone had been here in the past fourteen years since the land was posted and no one else had reason to come here. As he walked to the trees, stopping in the cool shade, he realized that the last person to stand here had probably been Jessica. His heart lodged in his throat at the thought.
For a moment he swore he caught a whiff of her perfume. The scent took him back. He could close his eyes and feel her in his arms as they lay entwined in the shade of these cottonwoods after making love.
I have a surprise for you and can’t wait to tell you. Whatever it had been, he would never know, he thought as he looked around.
What the hell are you doing here? He pulled off his Stetson and raked his fingers through his sandy-blond hair. Did he think he was going to find Jessica waiting for him here? He laughed at the absurdity of it.
Hell, he couldn’t even be sure she ever came here that night. Maybe she’d changed her mind, sorry she’d written him the letter, and had taken off on her own.
With a start, he remembered that Sid Granger had called the ranch that night.
“It’s Granger,” his father had said after answering the phone in the middle of dinner all those years ago. “He wants to know if you’ve seen his daughter.” Colton had given his father a miserable shake of his head. “He hasn’t seen her. They broke up.”
He’d never seen Jessica again.
If only he’d gotten the letter, he thought angrily. He would have run off and married her in a heartbeat.
Colton took one last look at the spot under the trees. “I’m so sorry, Jessica,” he whispered on the warm spring breeze rustling the leaves on the branches over his head.
A part of him ached for what could have been. They would have run away together. He could have gotten a job on a ranch. She could have gotten a job cooking for the hired hands. Or maybe he would have made enough that she didn’t have to work, especially if they’d gotten a place to live along with his job.
He sighed, realizing that they had both been kids back then. The chances of his getting hired on some ranch would have been slim. Not only that, Jessica didn’t know how to cook and she would have gone crazy living on a ranch. She’d always yearned to kick the dust of Montana off her heels and live in some big city. She had this idea that she would be a model. Or even a movie star.
“I’m going to be famous someday,” she used to say. “You’ll look back and say, ‘I knew her when she was a girl.’“ It used to make him sad when she talked that way because he knew he would never leave Montana.
What would he have done if he’d gotten the letter?
He would have figured something out, he told himself. He’d have had to. With her family being the way they were, he was all she had. She depended on him.
As he started to turn away, his boot toe caught on something. At first he thought it was a small root from the new growth at the base of one of the cottonwoods.
But as he reached down to free his boot, he saw that it wasn’t a root but a leather strap protruding from the dirt. It was attached to something buried under one of the exposed roots.
He pulled on the strap and a small leather shoulder bag came up out of the dirt. The leather was discolored, the design faded over the years, but he recognized it at once.
His heart pounded against his injured ribs. Jessica’s purse.
Chapter Two
Emma had just put the pies in the oven when the phone rang. She stared at it a moment, not sure she wanted to answer it after the last time.
“You want me to get that?” the cook asked. Celeste was a thirty-something woman, robust, flush-faced and tireless. What she lacked in a sense of humor was made up by her work ethic. At least that’s what Emma told herself.
“No, I have it.” Emma wiped her hands on her apron and walked to the wall phone in the kitchen. She picked it up on the third ring, praying it wasn’t a repeat of the two other calls she’d gotten since arriving here.
“Chisholm Cattle Company,” she said into the phone.
A beat of silence, then, “Mrs. Hoyt Chisholm?” The voice was a woman’s. She sounded elderly and according to the caller ID, a local number.
“Yes.” Emma held her breath, hoping the woman was someone from the nearby town of Whitehorse who’d called to welcome her to the area and wish her well on her marriage.
“You need to get out of that house before you end up dead, too. Your husband is cursed when it comes to wives.”
“I’m sorry, but what are you talking about?” Emma asked.
“The Chisholm curse. You’ve been warned.” As the woman slammed down the phone, Emma jerked the receiver away from her ear.
“Something wrong?” Celeste asked.
“Wrong number.” She hung up hoping the cook didn’t see the way her hand was shaking. Emma wasn’t ready to confide in either Celeste or the housekeeper, Mae. She’d seen how shocked they’d been that Hoyt had remarried. While neither of them had said anything, she’d noticed that they stayed to themselves, rebuffing