Page 10 of Dark Side of the River

All the lights seemed to be on inside the McKenna Ranch house, making it look even more impressive than in the daylight. The sprawling three stories of wood and glass had withstood the weather and the years. His grandfather had commissioned the building of the massive place, clearly not just to impress but as the beginning of a legacy of McKennas who would work and add to this ever-expanding empire.

Cooper thought his grandfather, Edward Holden McKenna, had optimistically figured on a lot of sons passing on that legacy by having their own sons who were born to continue his work. Each son was to marry a rancher’s daughter and bring her family’s land into the McKenna holdings.

It was a dying legacy even on other ranches around Montana. This generation didn’t have as many sons, and a lot of those sons wanted nothing to do with ranching, let alone being coerced into marrying a rancher’s daughter for their land, just as it was rumored his father had done by marrying Margaret Smith. One of the Smith ranches was now part of the McKenna Ranch, so Cooper long suspected there was some truth in the rumors.

Climbing out of his pickup, he didn’t bother to grab his duffel. He wasn’t sure he’d be staying. He wasn’t sure he’d be allowed to stay. With a sigh, he headed for the front door debating whether to knock, ring the bell or just walk in like he was a McKenna.

Fortunately, he didn’t have to make that decision. He’d barely reached the porch when the door flew open and his sister, Bailey, ran out, screaming his name. She threw herself into his arms. He couldn’t help laughing and feeling a little teary as his heart filled with love for his baby sister, who was now in her midtwenties.

He hugged her tightly before he pulled back to look at her. She’d only gotten more beautiful in the two years since he’d been gone. Her long dark hair, wavy and wild, framed a beautiful blue-eyed angelic face that hid her less-than-angelic nature. Just looking at her made his smile broaden. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed her.

“The prodigal son has returned,” she announced, laughing. “Dad’s probably out killing the fatted calf right now.”

They both turned at the sound of someone clearing his throat in the doorway. “Dad,” Cooper said as Bailey stepped away.

“I should go see about something,” she said with a grin. “Welcome back home, Coop,” she said over her shoulder as she waltzed past their father. “I’ve missed you, if no one else has.”

Standing on the dark porch, he could feel the night settling around him. He definitely should have stayed in town in a motel. To show up at this hour—

“Don’t just stand there,” Holden said. “Come on in.” As he turned, he said, “You might want to grab whatever stuff you have from your truck. I had Elaine make up your old room.”

Cooper stood for a moment, watching his father disappear into the house, his heart lodged in his throat. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected after the words that had been exchanged between them before he’d left. He’d regretted their argument, ashamed of some of the things he’d said, no matter how true they were.

Now he felt chastised. His father had always been the bigger man. The surge of love he felt for him surprised Cooper as he turned to walk back to his pickup for his duffel. Holden McKenna wasn’t the kind of man who hugged his sons or ever told them that he loved them. Most of the time, Cooper had suspected that he didn’t even like his sons all that much and was constantly disappointed in all of his offspring, even Treyton. Not that anyone liked Treyton particularly, he thought as he grabbed his duffel and headed back to the house.

*

HOLDENSTOODINthe living room with his back to the front door, staring out the window toward the river. There was just enough light that he could make out the rough outline of the nearby mountains against the deepening darkness of the night. How many times had he stood here contemplating his life and the mistakes he’d made? Too many times.

He turned at the sound of the front door closing to see his middle son standing there with a beat-up duffel bag and a sheepish look. Cooper was the more sensitive of his sons, having felt things more deeply. Holden loved that about him. But it also made Cooper restless. This son wanted more out of life, something Holden understood more than Cooper could ever know.

“It’s good to see you,” he said, thinking that his son couldn’t have come back at a worse time in so many ways. He feared once Cooper knew everything that was going on, he would leave again. Holden wouldn’t blame him if he did. He just hoped he’d stay. “Would you like a drink?” he asked as he motioned his son into the den and headed for the bar. “As I recall, you don’t mind a shot of bourbon?”

“Thanks.” He stepped in, setting down his duffel next to a chair but not sitting down.

Holden poured them both two fingers. Handing Cooper a glass, he motioned for him to sit and took a chair in front of the fireplace. He raised his drink. “I’m glad you’re here.” He took a sip; Cooper did the same and sat down in a nearby chair. His son didn’t look as uncomfortable as Holden felt. Cooper was good at hiding his emotions, unless he was pushed too far—then he’d come out fighting. He wondered if his son knew how alike they were. He doubted it. He’d raised his family without their mother for so long that he feared he’d scarred them irrevocably.

But unlike his father, Cooper had a moral compass that was both admirable and unyielding.

“I’m not going to ask you how long you’re staying or even if you’re staying,” Holden said finally. “But I do have to ask why you came back.”

Cooper smiled, studied the bourbon in his glass for a moment before he raised his gaze and said, “I have no idea.”

“Whatever your reasons, I’m glad you’re here,” Holden said, wondering how much he should tell him, then deciding not to get into it tonight. He didn’t want Cooper walking out and never looking back this time.

At the knock at the front door, he rose to find two deputies standing on the porch. “We’re here for your guns,” Deputy Dodson said, and shoved a warrant at him.

CHAPTER FOUR

EARLYTHENEXTMORNING, Tilly found her mother sitting next to Oakley’s bed at the hospital. She’d apparently been there all night. It was clear that her sister’s condition hadn’t changed.

She stayed for a little while, but left her mother beside Oakley’s bed, unable to take any more of Charlotte’s silent, dry-eyed fortitude. She had to do something besides sit next to her sister’s bed, holding her hand and crying. She also had to stop thinking about the fact that her sister might not ever regain consciousness. She might die. Tilly couldn’t comprehend that kind of loss.

She had to find the person who did this.

Earlier Stuart had stopped by to see how Oakley was doing and talk to her mother. He’d asked the same questions he’d asked Tilly. Her mother didn’t know if Oakley had been seeing anyone. She didn’t know what her daughter was doing on the McKenna Ranch.

“It doesn’t matter what she was doing there,” Tilly had cried. “They can’t just shoot trespassers.”

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