Page 7 of Protected By the Mountain Man

“Got it, thanks,” I said, brushing off her offer like I'd brushed off half the town's pity.

I dumped the plates in the kitchen, barely registering the clatter. Through the window, I saw Livy sitting on the porch swing, Bandit's furry head on her lap. She looked so small, so alone, even with the dog. My heart clenched tighter than my fists gripping the countertop. Livy hadn't shed a tear since we buried her dad. Hadn't screamed, hadn't raged.

It wasn't right.

I wiped my hands on the dishtowel, ready to go to her, when Sheriff Callahan's voice cut through the murmur of the crowd. “Kat, can I have a word?”

“Sure.” My reply was automatic, but my insides twisted with apprehension.

We stepped outside into the cool Montana air. The overcast sky felt fitting for a day like this—like even nature knew to dress in mourning.

“What’s up?” I asked. “Any word on the killer?”

“About that—your brother's death…we've been treating it as a murder, based on what you told us,” he said, his eyes scanning mine. “But now, some are leaning towards calling it a hunting accident.”

“Accident?” My words were sharp, cutting. “Ben was loved by everyone. Who would…”

“Exactly my point, Kat. We haven't found anyone with a motive.”

“Sheriff, that doesn't make any sense.” I crossed my arms. The idea that my brother's death could be reduced to a mere mishap? I couldn’t let this stand.

“Look, I understand it's hard to accept?—”

“Hard to accept?” I cut him off, a bitter laugh escaping before I could stop it. “You think this is about acceptance? This is about truth. And justice.”

“Kat…” His voice had that placating tone I despised.

“Save it,” I interrupted again. “Ben deserves better than a shrug and an 'oops.' And so do I. So does his daughter. After Ben was hit, the shots didn't stop. They kept coming. Tell me, Sheriff, does that sound like an accident to you?”

Callahan shifted uncomfortably. “Why didn't you mention this earlier?”

“Shock, maybe?” My words were sharp, unladylike—but I didn’t give a damn. “You think I planned to get shot at, bury my brother, and then have to convince you there's a killer on the loose?”

He sighed, a hand running through his graying hair. “I'm just trying to piece it all together.”

“Well, try harder. Because someone out there took aim with a clear intention to kill. This wasn't some city slicker mistaking Ben for a deer. We're not idiots out here.”

“Kat, I understand you're upset?—”

“Damn right, I am.” I stepped closer, invading his space to make sure he could see the conviction in my eyes. “And I went back to where Ben fell. Bandit and I found the shooter's perch. Clear view straight to where we were. No way that's an accident.”

Callahan's lips tightened, a sure sign he was trying to maintain his patience. “We sent everything out to the experts in Billings. Ballistics, forensics—it takes time.”

I stared, incredulous, hands on my hips. “We might not have time. Whoever did this—they could come after Livy or me next.”

His expression softened, but it didn't ease the knot of tension in my gut. “I just wanted to update you, Kat. Didn't mean to upset you further.”

I hated this feeling—like I was fragile, when I was just trying to get justice for my brother. I searched my mind for anything else I could give to the sheriff to convince him that this was absolutely intentional.

But then, another strange thing about that day struck me.

Gabriel Mitchell, driving in out of nowhere.

“Wait a second…Gabe—Gabe was close. Too close to where it all went down.”

“Wasn't he the one who got you to the ER?” Callahan's brow furrowed, and for a second, I saw the gears turning in his head.

“Sure, after the fact. But there's bad blood there, Sheriff. You know the history between him and Ben. Goes back years.”

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