Page 20 of Dark Side of the River

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HOLDENSAWTHEgirl’s face at the edge of the curtains as he drove up in front of the house and parked. All he got was a glimpse of large blue eyes, short choppy dark hair and a mouth set in a grim line. He hadn’t seen Holly Jo since she was born—the same day he made her mother the promise that he was now about to keep.

As he exited his vehicle, he looked up to see if she was still peering out. The face was gone. By the time he reached the front door, it opened.

An older woman stood, hands on hips, glaring at him. “You’re late.” He started to explain, but she cut him off as she yelled toward the stairway. “Holly Jo, get your scrawny butt down here. Now. Don’t make me come up there after you.”

She turned back to him. “That’s her bag,” she said, pointing to the single small suitcase on the floor by the door. “She cut up most of her clothes with a pair of scissors, all except a pair of jeans and an old flannel shirt of her mother’s and what I could rescue before she ruined the lot.”

“I’ll buy her clothing,” he said, wondering who this woman was to Holly Jo. He’d never asked if Holly Jo’s father had family. He knew her mother didn’t. He’d just assumed when her mother had agreed to Holden taking the girl that there wasn’t anyone else.

“Are you her grandmother?”

“Good Lord, no! I’m a neighbor. It’s been tough enough the few days I’ve had her. Well, she’ll be all yours now.” She crossed herself and turned to bark the girl’s name but stopped as Holly Jo came down the stairs.

The girl was wearing a pair of too-short shorts, a tank top and flip-flops. Her expression was sullen and surly, reminding him of a junkyard dog that’d been put on a short chain. Her short dark choppy hair framed her face, making her blue eyes look huge when she wasn’t narrowing them.

Holden reminded himself that she’d lost her father before she was born and now she’d lost her mother. She’d been apparently pawned off to a neighbor, and now she was being taken clearly against her will by an older man she didn’t know.

“Hello, Holly Jo. I’m Holden McKenna. It’s nice to meet you.”

“I really doubt that,” she said as she shot her caretaker a sour look. “Can we please go?”

He picked up her suitcase and motioned for her to lead the way. As an afterthought, he worried that might have been a mistake, letting her go to the truck by herself. What if she took off running? Would he be able to catch her? She was tall for her age, he thought, her tanned legs long. Her head up, back straight, there was defiance in her walk, but there was also something graceful about her as she climbed into his pickup.

After putting her suitcase in the back, he slid behind the wheel. “You hungry?” She shook her head. “We could stop at a drive-through. Would you like that?” She shook her head again, then turned to look at him.

“Didn’t she tell you? I’m vegan. I don’t eat that crap.”

Holden wasn’t sure whatveganmeant, but he suspected that meant that she didn’t eat the beef they raised on the ranch.Pick your battles, he told himself, as he started the engine and headed back toward the Powder River Valley.

He told her a little about the ranch, but his new family member kept her face turned toward the side window away from him, showing no indication that she was listening. He finally gave up and just drove.

The silent treatment didn’t bother him in the least. He just reminded himself to keep scissors away from her. It was clear from the odd angles of her hair that her clothing wasn’t the only thing she’d chopped.

HOWIEGUNDERSONHADrented a place not far from the airstrip. The house was small and part of a larger ranch that had sold to a conglomerate from back East. The house was vacant since no one ever intended to live there again. Howie had somehow talked the organization into renting it to him while he was here working. The rest of the time, he lived in Billings with his family, flying home every few weeks or so, Tilly explained as she drove.

When she’d suggested they take her truck again, she’d thought Cooper might put up an argument. He’d shrugged as if it didn’t matter to him. It surprised her. She’d thought he was one of those men who liked to control everything like her college boyfriend had. Brian couldn’t walk into the room without picking up the remote control—even if she’d been sitting there watching something.

“Anyone else living here with Howie?” Cooper asked as the house appeared up the road ahead. He hadn’t spoken since they’d left the café. She suspected something was eating at him, but she didn’t ask, telling herself she didn’t care.

Was it the news about her and Stuart? Probably not. She was mentally chastising herself for telling him. Cooper’s reaction had been even more embarrassing. He couldn’t have cared less, when all she was trying to do was let him know the lay of the land, so to speak. Transparency—wasn’t that a big thing nowadays?

“I didn’t ask who all lived there.” She saw an SUV and a second vehicle parked in front of the house, a large pickup, and realized that was why he’d asked.

After parking between the two vehicles, they both got out and walked up to the door. Cooper looked at her as if to ask if she wanted to be the one to knock. She felt herself flush. Was he insinuating that she was pushy? Worse, controlling? She shook her head and bit down on her lip to hold back what might come out of her mouth.

The door opened almost immediately after his knock. No doubt the occupants had heard them drive up, although there was only one man standing in the doorway.

“Howie Gunderson?” Cooper asked.

“Yes?”

“Mind if we come in and ask you a few questions?”

“You don’t look like cops,” Howie said, perusing them both before returning his attention to Cooper.

“I’m Tilly Stafford and this is Cooper McKenna. We just want to ask if you might have seen something the day my sister was shot,” she said, tired of biting her lip. “Your plane was seen in the area.”

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