The question seemed to take the rancher’s son by surprise. “Why?” Stuart waited, and Treyton finally frowned, seemed to think, then said, “A couple of weeks ago. I can’t remember. Like I said, I don’t live there anymore.”
He knew that Treyton had moved out of the ranch house before his friend Cooper had returned from his honeymoon with Tilly Stafford, now McKenna. They were now both living at the house until theirs was finished on the ranch. Treyton’s dislike for the Staffords was legendary.
A little surprised that Treyton hadn’t heard that Holly Jo had been kidnapped, he knew it wouldn’t be long before someone in town told him.
“Holly Jo’s been kidnapped.” He watched Treyton’s face. It stayed sullen. Nothing registered in his blue eyes other than impatience.
“What does that have to do with me?”
“Did you kidnap her?”
Treyton blinked and sat up. “What? Why would I do that?”
“You’re at odds with your father.”
“That’s nothing new.”
The sheriff leaned forward, holding Treyton’s gaze. “If you know where she is—”
The rancher’s son was on his feet. “If my father really thinks I took that brat, then he is more senile than I thought.” He shook his head. “I don’t have time for this.” He started for the door.
“I’m going to need the address of your new place,” Stuart said.
“Better bring a warrant,” Treyton said over his shoulder on the way out of the office.
“I’ll let the Feds know to bring one,” he called after him. They both knew he didn’t have enough evidence to get a warrant. As he watched Treyton storm out, he couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t Holden’s eldest son’s doing, and he needed to move on to the next name on the list.
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHARLOTTE FELT GUILTY at how relieved she’d been when she’d returned to the ranch and Brand wasn’t there. She knew she was avoiding the inevitable. She’d never thought of herself as a coward, but at this moment, she didn’t feel strong enough to face all her sins. She had no idea what she would say to him anyway. That she was embarrassed surprised her. Facing her grown son and admitting the lie she’d let them all—especially Brand and his father—believe and live with seemed an unforgivable betrayal. Holden definitely thought so.
For years, she’d hated Holden for what he’d done to her, betraying her the way he had. Not just once, but over again. And now she’d done something despicable to her own son and his father. She’d lied, not just to them, but to herself. She’d thought better of herself, always having taken the moral high ground. Until she’d seen the way Holden had looked at her today. She hated to imagine the look her son would give her.
As badly as she wanted to wallow in her grief, her regret, her self-disgust, she refused to allow it. She reached for her phone. The plan had come to her after talking to Elaine. Back at the ranch, she’d seen herself as if staring into a mirror. She’d only been thinking of herself, her pain. She hadn’t even a thought of anyone else, including Holden’s ward, Holly Jo.
Shame heated her cheeks, burned at her soul. A child was missing. She called her ranch manager and asked him to come up to the house.
Boyle Wilson had sounded both surprised and pleased at her request. Most of the time, if she had anything to say to him, she did it out at the stables.
Answering his knock, she opened the door. He pulled off his Western straw hat, wiped his boots on the mat and stepped in. His head under his hat revealed pale scalp beneath his receding hairline in sharp contrast to the deep tan of his face. Farmer’s tan, Oakley called it.
Boyle wasn’t bad to look at, but there was something in his eyes that had warned her years ago as a girl that he wasn’t to be trusted. She would have sacked him when she took over the ranch after her first husband died, but unfortunately, Boyle knew too much, as if he’d been listening outside their doors his whole life. Maybe he didn’t know where all the bodies were buried, so to speak, but he knew enough. Still, there were days when she’d fantasized about sending him down the road and letting him do his worst.
“You need me?” he said, a smirk teasing up one side of his mouth.
Charlotte quickly divested him of any thought that this was personal. “I want you to have everyone search every building on the property for a missing girl. Her name is Holly Jo. She’s about twelve, thirteen.”
Boyle’s expression flashed disappointment, then anger. “I’m a ranch manager, not a babysitter for Holden McKenna’s kid he says isn’t his. Why would you think she’s on our property?” he demanded. “You wouldn’t be behind this, would you?” He gave her a wink that turned her stomach.
He’d never made it a secret that he had designs on her, which only proved how delusional he was about their relationship. He really did seem to think he knew enough about her and the family that he had job security for life—if not next husband material. She thought how shocked he’d be if he ever tried out that theory in the form of open blackmail.
“I want you to go with our men and make sure that every building is thoroughly searched,” she said, as if he hadn’t spoken, let alone accused her of kidnapping the child. “I’m depending on you, Boyle.” Her last words made him stand up a little taller. “Which means I’m also holding you responsible should you miss one building that happens to have the child in it. I’m going to get other ranchers to do the same. If that girl is still in the Powder River Basin, she would be hidden somewhere away from people. I want her found.”
Boyle smirked. “So, I was right. This is about you trying to get in good with Holden McKenna.”
She wanted to slap that smirk off his face. “Maybe you didn’t hear. Brand was taken into custody as a suspect in the girl’s disappearance. I want to make sure no one hid that child on my property.” Charlotte met his gaze, daring him to say anything more about Holden, let alone Brand. “That girl is out there somewhere. Only a monster wouldn’t want to find her.”
He had the good sense to look chastised. If he didn’t know that Brand was Holden’s son, he would soon enough. It would be the talk of the bar Boyle patronized in town. He stuffed his hat back on his head. “I should get on it, then.”
“I’ll be offering a reward for the person who finds her alive,” Charlotte said as the idea came to her. “Ten thousand dollars.” His eyes widened with surprise and a flash of greed. “Get the word out.”
AS HOLDEN HAD driven away from Lottie, his heart breaking, a memory nudged him hard. Him and Lottie, the two of them at their favorite spot at the creek.
Earlier he couldn’t remember, but now he saw it all. It had been a couple of years before he’d married Margie. He and Lottie had been young lovers, both assuming they would marry. But his father had other ideas. Holden had been given an impossible choice. Either marry Margie Smith, the daughter of another neighboring rancher with some property his father wanted, or walk away from the ranch without a penny.
“Without a ranch or any money, we’ll see if Charlotte still wants you,” his father had said.
Holden had feared his father was right. He’d buckled under the pressure and married Margie. He never told Lottie why. Not that it would have made a difference. She’d never forgiven him—just as he’d never forgiven himself.
But he hadn’t been able to get over her. Nor had he been able to stay away from her. With only a creek between their properties, it was too easy to see her. Like the day they must have conceived Brand. After making love, he had left Lottie feeling guilty and ashamed, and yet he couldn’t stay with her any more than he could stay away from her. He’d told himself on the way back to the ranch that he couldn’t do this any longer. He was going to tell Margie the truth.
That day at the creek, Lottie had wanted him as desperately as he had her. They’d made love, madly and passionately in the grass at the edge of the water—just as they had as teenagers. Afterward... He recalled what he’d told her, because like a lot of his mistakes in life, after seeing her today, he now remembered it only too well. He’d said to her that he was going back to the ranch and telling Margie that he was leaving her.
Lottie had cried, promising to tell her husband, and they’d held each other. They were finally going to be together, come hell or high water. Neither considered the consequences of such a decision. All they could think about was being together.
He remembered how happy Lottie had been. They planned to meet back at the creek the next day. Holden groaned now at the memory. He’d returned to the ranch to tell Margie. She was busy with Treyton, the son they’d had right away. Treyton had never been an easy child, colicky as an infant, irritable and difficult as a toddler.
Charlotte had married Rake Stafford, a man seventeen years her senior, soon after he and Margie had wed. Like Holden and Margie, Charlotte and Rake had also produced a son, Chisum Jase, CJ. Both boys were going through the terrible twos.
