A cowboy must face his past

  Before he loses his heart...again

  Supermodel Annabelle “Annie” Clementine is back in Whitehorse, Montana. And there’s nothing cowboy Dawson Rogers wants more than to see his ex-lover’s backside...on the road out. He’ll even risk his heart again and help sell her late grandmother’s house so Annie can leave ASAP. Except along with the house, Annie inherited a mystery. And if they don’t solve it soon, someone’s willing to kill for the answer.

  Whitehorse, Montana: The Clementine Sisters

  Annabelle sighed. “What are you doing here?”

  He wished he knew. It had seemed so simple when his mother had suggested it. Help get Annie out of town. But being around her messed with more than his mind. “I’m going to help you pack up the house and take what you don’t want to the dump—unless you want to argue about that, too?”

  “I know you think I’m a charity case that you have to—”

  “You never were graceful when it came to taking help from anyone,” he interrupted. “Just say thank you and let’s leave it at that.”

  She clamped her jaw shut for a moment. “I’m also not graceful when people pity me.”

  He let out a bark of a laugh. “You think that’s what this is? Sorry, sister, but you are the last person I feel sorry for. You need to get your grandmother’s house ready to sell. You want to sell this house and clear out of town? Fine with me. I had some things to take to the dump. I thought I’d take some of yours.” He gave her a challenging look. “But if you don’t want my help—”

  HARD RUSTLER

  New York Times Bestselling Author

  B.J. Daniels

  B.J. Daniels is a New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author. She wrote her first book after a career as an award-winning newspaper journalist and author of thirty-seven published short stories. She lives in Montana with her husband, Parker, and three springer spaniels. When not writing, she quilts, boats and plays tennis. Contact her at bjdaniels.com, on Facebook or on Twitter, @bjdanielsauthor.

  Books by B.J. Daniels

  Harlequin Intrigue

  Whitehorse, Montana: The Clementine Sisters

  Hard Rustler

  The Montana Cahills

  Cowboy’s Redemption

  Whitehorse, Montana: The McGraw Kidnapping

  Dark Horse

  Dead Ringer

  Rough Rider

  HQN Books

  The Montana Cahills

  Renegade’s Pride

  Outlaw’s Honor

  Hero’s Return

  Rancher’s Dream

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  CAST OF CHARACTERS

  Dawson Rogers—The rancher had lost the love of his life because he was never leaving Montana and the life he loved.

  Annabelle Clementine—She’d followed her dream and it had cost her dearly. Now desperate, the former supermodel was back in Whitehorse, Montana, only to sell her deceased grandmother’s house.

  Grandma Francesca Clementine—She’d raised her three granddaughters to be free spirits. Little did they know what a free spirit she’d been in her younger days. But the secret was in the house—soon to be uncovered.

  Bernard “Bernie the Hawk” McDougal—Before he died, the old Irish mobster was determined to find the woman he loved—and the loot she’d stolen from him all those years ago.

  Mary Sue Linton—The Realtor loved a good mystery. Why anyone would wall up a perfectly good alcove was definitely a head-scratcher.

  Wilhelmina Rogers—She would never stoop to matchmaking to get her oldest son together with the woman he loved. Unless she thought it might work.

  Lawrence Clarkston—He had his own reasons for wanting to get into Frannie Clementine’s house.

  Inez Gilbert—The nosy neighbor saw enough to be suspicious.

  Saddie—Even the dog knew something was amiss in Frannie’s house.

  This book is for Julie Simundson Nagy, a true fan, who has been a bright spot in so many of my days. Writing is such a solitary endeavor with lots of stress. I will see Julie and she will remind me that I’m not alone in this. Her smile and enthusiasm keep me grounded. Thank you, Julie!

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Excerpt from Finger on the Trigger by Delores Fossen

  Chapter One

  As her sports car topped the rise, Annabelle Clementine looked out at the rugged country spread before her and felt her heart drop. She’d never thought she’d see so many miles of wild winter Montana landscape ever again. At least, she’d hoped not.

  How could she have forgotten the remoteness? The vastness? The isolation? There wasn’t a town in sight. Or a ranch house. Or another living soul.

  She glanced down at her gas gauge. It hovered at empty. She’d tried to get gas at the last station, but her credit card wouldn’t work and she’d gone through almost all of her cash. She’d put in what fuel she could with the change she was able scrape up, but it had barely moved the gauge. If she ran out of gas before she reached Whitehorse...well, it would just be her luck, wouldn’t it?

  She let the expensive silver sports car coast down the mountain toward the deep gorge of the Missouri River, thankful that most of the snow was high in the mountains and not on the highway. She didn’t know what she would have done if the roads had been icy since she hadn’t seen a snow tire since she’d left Montana.

  The motor coughed. She looked down at the gauge. The engine had to be running on fumes. What was she going to do? It was still miles to Whitehorse. Tears burned her eyes, but she refused to cry. Yes, things were bad. Really bad. But—

  She was almost to the river bottom when she saw it. At a wide spot where the river wound on its way through Montana east to the Mississippi, a pickup and horse trailer were pulled off to the side of the highway. Her pulse jumped at just the thought of another human being—let alone the possibility of getting some fuel. If she could just get to Whitehorse...

  But as she descended the mountain, she didn’t see anyone around the pickup or horse trailer. What if the rig had been left beside the road and the driver was nowhere to be found? Maybe there would be a gas can in the back of the pickup or—Have you stooped so low that now you would steal gas?

  Fortunately, she wasn’t forced to answer that. She spotted a cowboy standing on the far side of the truck. Her instant of relief was quickly doused as she looked around and realized how alone the two of them were, out here in the middle of nowhere.

  Don’t be silly. What are the chances the cowboy is a serial killer, rapist, kidnapper, ax murderer...? The motor sputtered as if taking its last gasp as she slowed. It wasn’t as if she had a choice. She hadn’t seen another car for over an hour. For miles she’d driven through open country dotted occasionally with cows but no people. And she knew there was nothing but rugged country the rest of the way north to Whitehorse.

  If there had been any other way to get where she was headed, she would have taken it. But her options had been limited for some time now.

  And today, it seemed, her options had come down to this cowboy and possible serial killer rapist kidnapper ax murderer.

  She let the car glide into the spot next to where the cowboy had pulled off the highway. I’ll just bum a little fuel and be on my way. Nothing to worry about. Just the thought made her laugh. Her life was one big worry right now, she fretted, as she took in the rangy-looking cowboy standing by his truck.

  “What’s the worst that could happen?” She groaned. Taking risks is what got you into this mess. Like she had to be reminded.

  The engine let out a final cough and died. Committed now, she had no choice as she braked next to the horse trailer. Turning off the key in the ignition, she checked her makeup and hair in the mirror. You’re Annabelle Clementine. You can do this. The woman who stared back at her from the mirror looked skeptical at best.

  Bucking up her courage, she stepped out of the car, careful not to let her last pair of expensive heels get muddy. “Excuse me?” she called, determined also not to get too far away from her open car door. “I’m afraid I have a small problem and really could use some help.”

  She was ready to make a hasty retreat back into the car, if need be. Not that she would be going far if things went south. But at least she could lock herself in. She instantly regretted the fact that she’d bought a canvas-topped convertible, which had been perfect in Southern California.

  The cowboy had his back to her and hadn’t looked up from where he’d been digging around in the back of his pickup bed.
<
br />   “Excuse me?” she tried again. He had to have heard her. But so far, he hadn’t acknowledged her presence in any way.

  Forced to move away from the car, she took in the cowboy as she approached and wasn’t impressed with what she saw. But then again, she’d grown up with cowboys so she’d never understood the fascination. Admittedly, this one was tall, broad shouldered, slim hipped, long legged and not bad from the backside.

  Unfortunately, everything else about him looked worn and dirty, from his jeans, boots and canvas jacket to the Stetson on the too-long dark hair curling at the nape of his red neck.

  At her approach, he gave her a quick glance over his shoulder. She could see little of his face. He wore mirrored sunglasses against the winter glare, his hat pulled low. Under the dark shadow of his Stetson, she glimpsed several week’s growth of beard, making him look even more craggy and unkempt. No designer stubble on this cowboy.

  Either he’d been on the range for days or this was as good as it got with him.

  You’re not marrying him. You’re just bumming fuel. “Hello?” she said louder and with more attitude as he went back to what he was doing.

  “There a problem?” he drawled in a low, lazy tone as he finally finished and turned, seemingly reluctantly, to give her his attention. She saw that he’d been feeding his dog in the back of the pickup. The dog—little more than a puppy—was a furry mutt with one blue eye and one brown one circled by a patch of black. He didn’t look much better than his owner.

  She shifted her gaze back to the cowboy who was looking at her car as if he’d never seen one like it before. Probably doesn’t get off the ranch much.

  He slowly slid his gaze back to her with a nonchalance that made her grind her teeth.

  “Yes, there is a problem.” She’d thought she’d already told him that.

  He lifted the brim of his hat, dropped his sunglasses down to look over them for a moment. She caught a glimpse of brown eyes as he surveyed her, making her feel nearly naked under the black cashmere sweater and slacks she was wearing, before he lifted his sunglasses again.

  “I’m afraid I forgot to buy gas at the last station,” she said, wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible—even if it did make her look like a fool. She had worse problems. “I was wondering if you might have some gas that I could borrow? Just enough to get me into town?”

  “Borrow?” He chuckled at that. “And town being?”

  She hated to even admit where she was headed. “Whitehorse.”

  “That’s another hour up the road.”

  As if she didn’t know that. “My car used more gas than I thought it would.” She gave a nervous laugh, hating that she had to resort to acting as if she didn’t have a brain. Back when she was making money, fuel was never an issue. She hadn’t realized how much a lot of things cost—until she couldn’t pay for them anymore.

  He nodded, glancing toward the river as if considering her request. “I suppose I could siphon some out of one of my tanks.” He didn’t sound thrilled about it. Nor had he moved.

  “I would appreciate that so much.” She glanced at her watch.

  “Got some place to be, do you?”

  “I have an appointment.”

  “In Whitehorse?” From under the brim of his hat and behind the mirrored sunglasses, he studied her a few moments more before he sighed. “Best pull up next to my pickup while I grab a hose.”

  She feared the car wouldn’t start, let alone move. But there must have been just enough fumes left for her to pull up before it died again. She shut off the engine, staying in the car to pop the gas compartment open and watch him move slow as molasses. He acted as if he had all day. He probably did.

  Patience had never been one of her strong suits. She tapped a toe as she heard him talking to his dog, mumbling so she couldn’t make out a word. As if she didn’t know he was giving the dog an earful about her.

  The dog, still in the pickup bed, wagged its tail enthusiastically at whatever the cowboy said. Whatever he was saying, he certainly found it amusing from that hint of a grin under the beard. Annabelle consoled herself with the thought that the mutt was probably the closest thing the cowboy could get to a female companion.

  After a good five to ten minutes, he finished. She hadn’t thought past getting enough gas to get to Whitehorse. Now her stomach clenched at a thought. Not only should she offer him money, but he also might demand it. And since she had no money and doubted he took credit cards—even ones that weren’t frozen for lack of payment...

  She watched him walk to his pickup to put the hose away and knew what she had to do. It was the coward’s way out. But she told herself that she had no choice. She’d been telling herself that for months now. Not that it made her feel any better as she quickly started her car and threw it into reverse.

  Whirring down the passenger side window, she called out, “Thank you so much. If you’re ever in Whitehorse...” With that she took off, torn between guilt and glee over seeing that he’d given her almost a full tank of gas.

  When she dared look back, she saw him standing by his pickup shaking his head as he watched her leave. She thought of that glimpse of golden brown. Even shaded under the brim of his old Stetson, those eyes... They’d almost seemed...familiar.

  Chapter Two

  Dawson Rogers swore as he pulled off his worn Stetson. Raking a hand through his hair, he watched the silver sports car take off like a bat out of hell.

  “Annabelle Clementine.” He said the name like a curse. For years, he’d only seen her staring back at him from glossy women’s magazine ads. He’d been just fine knowing there was no chance that he’d ever lay eyes on her in the flesh again. She’d been real clear about never setting foot in this state again when she’d left all those years ago.

  So what was she doing headed for Whitehorse?

  That his heart was still pounding only made him more furious with himself. When he’d heard her voice behind him...he couldn’t believe it. He’d thought for sure that his worn-out, dog-weary body was playing tricks on him. He’d frozen in place, counting to ten and then ten again, afraid to turn around for fear he’d be wrong—or worse—right.

  Now he swore, remembering his reaction to just the sound of her voice. Could he be a bigger fool?

  And yet that voice had brought it all back. The ache in his belly, the stompin’ she’d done on his heart. Worse, the hope that set a fire inside him at just the sound of it. In that instant, he’d wanted it to be her more than he’d wanted his next breath. After everything she’d done to him, he’d actually felt a spike of joy at the thought of seeing her again.

  And still he hadn’t turned around, because he’d known once he did, the disappointment would be as painful as the last time he’d seen her.

  Turning, he’d seen her standing there and thought, Damn, the woman is even more beautiful than when she’d hightailed it out of here.

  He’d been shocked—and still was. Annie. In the flesh. That she hadn’t changed except to become more gorgeous had left him shaken. A dust devil of emotions whirled inside him as he watched her drive away.

  “What is she doing back here?” he demanded as the pup came over to the side of the pickup bed to lick his hand.

  Sadie wagged her tail in response. “What am I doing asking you?” He ruffled the dog’s fur. Still, he found himself squinting after the sports car as it climbed the mountain on the other side of the river and disappeared around a curve. “What’s a woman who said she’d never set foot in Whitehorse doing back here? If I hadn’t seen her with my own eyes...”

  For just a moment there, earlier, before she’d asked for gas, he’d thought...

  Hell, he didn’t want to think about what he’d thought as he shoved his hat back on. “Let’s get on home,” he said to the pup as he reminded himself that Annabelle Clementine’s coming back had nothing to do with him.

  He told himself that he shouldn’t have been surprised that she hadn’t changed. Still, it galled him. Her clothes might be more expensive and she drove a much fancier car, but she was still the same girl who’d looked down her nose at him—and Whitehorse—all those years ago.