Page 5 of Dark Side of the River

“It’s pitted families against each other for years,” the sheriff said. “The thing is, it’s used in everything now from fertilizers and gas cookers to cars, ovens, water heaters...” Stuart shrugged. “So, a lot more wells have been going in around here. The Staffords and the McKennas aren’t the only ones fighting over the issue.”

Cooper sighed. “It’s always something. Will always be something.”

“And now Oakley Stafford was shot on the McKenna Ranch.” Stuart sat forward, leaning his elbows on his desk. “You really have no idea what she was doing there or why someone shot her?”

He shook his head. “I just got back to town.” But he knew that if a Stafford was caught on the ranch, one of the ranch hands or his brother Treyton could have done something stupid like chasing her and even taking a potshot at her. He figured Stu suspected the same thing.

“If she dies...” The sheriff didn’t have to finish; they both knew what would happen. The county would see a McKenna-Stafford war like nothing before. The situation was a powder keg even now, and Cooper, as his luck would have it, was right in the middle of it because he’d been the one to almost accidentally run over her.

He got to his feet as a deputy handed him a shirt through the open doorway. “Am I free to go?” he asked, as he dressed.

His friend rose. “Your pickup has been searched, anything of interest taken. It’s parked in the lot out back, keys in it.”

“‘Anything of interest’?” Cooper swore. “I’m sure you’ll provide a list of what was taken.” He shook his head. “You know I didn’t shoot her.” He could see that didn’t matter.

“Going to have to hang on to the guns until we get forensics back on the slug I heard they removed from Oakley. Just trying to cover all the bases. You should thank me. I’m also covering your backside.”

He knew that was true. Stu was following protocol and just trying to clear him as a suspect. There would be talk as soon as everyone heard that a McKenna found her coming out of his family’s ranch land.

“How is she?”

“Came out of the surgery. Still in serious condition, but stable. If you hadn’t come along when you did, she’d be dead. There is that.”

“Right.” He thought about Oakley’s sister, Tilly, and hated to think what she and the rest of the Stafford family were going through right now. He and Tilly were close enough in age that they’d competed at every fair and rodeo as far back as he could remember. He recalled with embarrassment all the times she’d outridden him, outshot him and even out-pig-wrestled him. He found himself smiling at the memory. She was as competitive as he was.

“So you’re sticking around?” Stu asked as Cooper started to leave.

“Are you telling me not to leave town?”

He smiled. “Just wondering what your plans were. Thought we might have a beer sometime. It’s been too long.”

Cooper felt himself relax a little. He’d had the kind of day that had his shoulder muscles so tight they ached. “Sounds great,” he said, returning the sheriff’s smile. “I’ll let you know my plans. At this point, I’m not sure where I’ll even be staying.”

“It’s like that?”

Cooper laughed. “It’s always like that with my family, you know that.”

“Maybe this time will be different,” Stu offered.

“Right,” he said with a laugh as the office door was flung open and his older brother, Treyton, came storming in.

TREYTONSTOPPEDINthe middle of the room, his gaze riveted on his younger brother. “So it’s true. You’re really back?” He shook his head. “You’re just walking trouble, aren’t you?”

Cooper sighed. “Good to see you too, Trey. Talk to you later, Stu.” Behind him, he heard the sheriff telling Treyton to sit and calm down. He heard Treyton yelling something about vandalism and trespassers on the ranch. He couldn’t wait to get out of there. He was in no mood to deal with his brother. He’d already been having second thoughts about his choice to return.

Now he was thinking he’d made a mistake. Why not pack up his truck and hit the road? He found his pickup parked behind the sheriff’s department, an old stucco building with a matching auto shop behind it. The keys were in it, just like Stu had said. Only in Powder Crossing, he thought, where people got shot more often than vehicles got stolen.

Climbing in, he noticed his glove-box door hanging open; everything inside it had clearly been gone through.Thank you, Deputy Dodson.Same with his duffel, its contents dumped on the passenger seat. But according to the list he’d been given, only his weapons had been taken.

Gritting his teeth, he put everything back where it went, closed the glove box and tossed his duffel behind the seat. He had no idea when he’d get his guns back but couldn’t leave without them. It made him feel a little naked and more than a little uneasy. He’d grown up with a gun handy as a kid. Never knew if he’d need to kill a rattler or scare off a critter. He’d had a rifle and a handgun in his truck for as long as he could remember. The worst part was that he couldn’t shake the feeling that he would be needing a weapon and maybe soon. Whoever had shot Oakley Stafford was still out there.

As he started the engine, he thought about all the questions he’d had to answer, first with the deputy before he’d been detained. Not officially arrested, but damned close. Then with Stu. He had even more questions himself about what had happened earlier.

He sat for a moment, engine running, thinking about Oakley’s horse. Had they caught up to it? If so, had they taken it to the Stafford Ranch? He didn’t think it had been injured. He hoped not.

He knew the horse wasn’t his concern, but it had been Oakley’s. At least he’d thought that was what she’d been asking about. When she regained consciousness, he didn’t want her worrying about her horse.

Buttercup. Had to be the name of her horse. He considered calling the Stafford Ranch to find out if the mare had been returned and if there was any news on Oakley’s condition, but reconsidered. He was persona non grata, and not just because he was a McKenna. He and Tilly had gone head-to-head a few too many times. He remembered one wrestling match in the mud between the two of them when they were about nine. Not his best moment, wrestling a girl in the mud. He remembered the whooping he’d gotten when his father had found out. To make it worse, a sculptor from Billings had witnessed it and actually made a bronze sculpture of the incident.

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