Lee Stanton paused as he entered the room, his gaze caught by the blinking light on his phone indicating that he had a message. He picked it up to check the call history. The same number had shown up on his display more than a dozen times in the past four days, though the caller, who’d identified himself as David Bradford, had only left two messages previously. This would be the third.
He pressed the button to connect to voice mail, then punched in his access code.
“This is David Bradford again, the private investigator from Tulsa, hired by Hudson Jones to track down Luke Stockton from Rust Creek Falls, Montana. Please call me back at 539-555-6234.”
Lee hit the erase button.
The investigator was nothing if not persistent, and the client—Hudson Jones—was obviously getting his money’s worth. Unfortunately, his perseverance wasn’t going to pay off this time, because it wasn’t possible to find someone who didn’t exist, and Luke Stockton had disappeared twelve years earlier on his way to Cheyenne, Wyoming.
Lee tried to put the call out of his mind as he rummaged through the refrigerator, looking for something—anything—to throw together for dinner. After seven hours on horseback feeding cattle and checking perimeter fence, he was cold and tired and hungry. And apparently long overdue for a trip to the grocery store.
He pulled a bottle of beer out of the fridge and twisted off the cap. He tipped the bottle to his lips as he picked up the phone again, dialing from memory the number for Peppe’s Pizza.
While he waited for his dinner to be delivered, he turned on the television and flipped through the twelve channels that were included with basic cable as part of his rent. But nothing on the screen held his attention for long.
For the past dozen years, he’d walked the right side of the law, working from sunup to sundown, falling into bed exhausted at the end of the day. But no matter how fatigued his body was, he couldn’t escape the memories that continued to haunt his dreams. Memories of a past he’d wanted only to leave behind. Now he couldn’t help but wonder if that past had caught up with him.
...hired by Hudson Jones to track down Luke Stockton...
He opened the laptop he’d picked up secondhand and kept plugged in because the battery didn’t hold much of a charge. He opened a browser, then started a search for Hudson Jones.
The results were numerous and instantaneous, and a quick skim of the headlines revealed that Hudson Jones was a millionaire cowboy originally from Oklahoma. Since he knew that Luke Stockton had never been to Oklahoma and hadn’t rubbed elbows with any millionaires in his past, he figured the PI had taken a wrong turn somewhere. He was about to close the browser when a headline announcing Hudson Jones’s marriage caught his eye. The name of the man’s wife: Bella Stockton.
Bella? Married?
Stunned, he clicked on the link and found himself looking at a photo of the millionaire cowboy and his beautiful bride. The caption indicated that the couple had exchanged vows early in June—almost six months earlier.
Lee’s heart hammered against his ribs as he leaned toward the screen for a closer look. The stunning young woman in the white gown didn’t bear much resemblance to the awkward teen he remembered. Except for the eyes. Even in an online photograph, even after so much time had passed, there was no mistaking those big brown eyes.
He blinked away the moisture that blurred his vision and finally acknowledged the truth that was staring back at him: Hudson Jones’s bride was indeed Luke’s little sister.
And if her new husband had hired a PI to find Luke, then Bella must have told him about losing touch with her siblings. Maybe she’d even asked Hudson to help her find them.
Lee shook his head and tipped the bottle to his mouth again. He was only speculating about her thoughts and motives. He had no way of knowing if Bella wanted to find Luke, but the possibility tugged at him.
Half an hour later, after he’d finished another beer and half of his pizza, he finally picked up the phone and dialed the PI’s number.
Anticipation and trepidation wore on Luke with every mile on his tires throughout the drive to Rust Creek Falls. The scenery outside his window was a blur as memories of his first twenty-one years played through his mind like an old movie—and not one with a happy ending.
He’d traveled from Cheyenne to Butte the day before and crashed in a cheap motel. Though his body had craved sleep, his mind wouldn’t let him rest and he’d stared at the ceiling for a long time, questioning the impulse that had brought him on this journey.
When he woke in the morning, his first thought had been to turn around and go back to Wyoming.
Because he was a coward.
But apparently the fierceness with which he missed his family was stronger than his cowardice, because instead of turning back, he pushed forward.
After fueling himself with an extra large coffee, he’d started back on the road to Rust Creek Falls. Three and a half hours later, he was almost there.
His gaze searched for the familiar sign that welcomed visitors to town. Twelve years earlier the sign had been old and worn, so it was possible that the marker was no longer standing or—if it was—it might be faded so much that the paint was impossible to read. It didn’t matter. Luke didn’t need a marker to let him know he’d arrived. Even if he hadn’t recognized the terrain, he would have known it in his gut.
But twelve years was a long time, and people changed more quickly than the towns they lived in. Bella hadn’t even been a teenager when he left; now she was a woman—and a wife.
Mrs. Bella Jones.
He shook his head, still unable to believe that his little sister was all grown up, still struggling to come to terms with the time he’d lost with his family. And the staggering weight of guilt, because he knew it was his fault.
Of course, Bella didn’t know that. Because if she did, she would never have made the effort to find him. More likely, she would have been grateful that he’d left town, and happy he’d stayed away. But she deserved to know the truth—all of his brothers and sisters deserved the truth. A truth that Luke had been too ashamed to tell them, and the grief and remorse weighed on him still.
Although a dozen years had passed since he left Montana, in all that time, he’d never forgotten—or stopped missing—the family he used to have. Since he left Rust Creek Falls, not a single day passed without him thinking about the family he’d walked away from. Bailey and Daniel had gone with him, and the three oldest brothers had stuck close together—at least for a while.
Over the years, he’d lost count of the number of times he’d thought about going home—only to remember all the reasons he’d left. For Luke, “you can’t go home again” was more than a catchphrase—it was the reality of his life.
So why was he trying to change that reality now?
Because Bella wanted to see him.
He’d finally called her from the motel the night before to tell her that he was on his way. Partly because he was desperate to hear her voice and partly because he knew that if she was expecting him, he’d be less inclined to turn around and head back to Wyoming.
He’d let her down once, but he wouldn’t do it again.
Now he was finally going home—a prospect that filled him with anticipation and more than a little bit of trepidation. As a result of one foolish, youthful error in judgment, he’d