He laughed at that, not believing her and filling himself with worry. He didn’t want to think about CJ or how dangerous it was for Oakley to get out there. But he’d learned a long time ago that she was her own woman. He wasn’t about to mess with that.

  “Six o’clock okay Saturday?” he asked, getting back to their date. He wanted it to be special. He was going to tell her everything. “I plan to feed you someplace other than the café in town if you don’t mind leaving Powder Crossing on this date.”

  “Like I said, surprise me.”

  “I’ll do my best. Get some sleep. If I don’t see you sooner, see you Saturday night. And Oakley? Be careful. If you need me, call and I’ll be there.”

  He found himself grinning like a fool as he disconnected, but it felt good. He’d put this off for too long. Maybe it was seeing his father or maybe it was just time. All he knew was that he was ready to get on with his life. He hoped Oakley was, too.

  He wished she wasn’t out at the ranch, though. Worse, she was keeping an eye on CJ and planning to try to keep CH4 from drilling out there. He might be able to distract her for a while with a date, but he didn’t know how to stop her from getting herself hurt or worse, killed.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  PICKETT HANSON WOKE, heart pounding. He’d had the nightmare again. He climbed out of his bed and went outside to stand under the stars and breathe in the freezing night air. The snowstorm had passed, leaving behind a good half foot of fresh powder. He’d learned that fresh snow absorbed sound, lowering ambient noise over a landscape because the trapped air between snowflakes attenuated vibration. And that was why it got so quiet when it snowed.

  He’d never heard so much silence in winter or seen so many stars when the night was clear before he ended up here. Every day he was grateful for that, even though he’d been living a lie all these years.

  He felt the chill begin to sink in, but at least it held the horror of the nightmare at bay. It always started the same way, racing through the snow toward the creek, terrified of what he would find beneath the ice. Shuddering at the memory, he moved back inside the small cabin where he’d been living since he was a teenager. The weathered log walls, the plank flooring, the single bed, his stack of books next to it. Everything he needed.

  Climbing back into bed, he shivered under the covers for a few minutes. The cold that left goose bumps on his skin gave him the comfort of knowing it had only been a nightmare. A recurring nightmare since before she’d gotten shot.

  The dream made little sense on the surface, but the feeling he woke with was that he’d let Oakley down. He’d failed her when she’d needed him the most.

  He’d never paid much attention to his dreams. But this one scared him. This one felt like an omen.

  Even now, wide-awake, he couldn’t throw off the image of Oakley lying on the ground, those beautiful green eyes lifeless. It was always the same. Always the face of Oakley Stafford, the woman he wanted with all his heart, but feared he could never have because he wasn’t the man she thought he was.

  The only thing that was real was his love for her. He’d do anything to protect her—even from himself. But as he closed his eyes, his greatest fear was that he would be running through the snow looking for her only to find her too late, only to fail her when she needed him the most.

  * * *

  HER MOTHER WAS waiting for her when Oakley came downstairs the next morning at the ranch. “I just spoke to the lawyer.”

  She started toward the kitchen, not in the mood for this. She’d gone to bed thinking about Pickett Hanson and woke up this morning doing the same thing. The sun beaming in her window had made her smile. She’d never gotten silly over a boy or a man in her life, but she now saw how it could happen.

  All she wanted to do was keep this warm glow feeling. Talking about CJ’s lawyers was the last thing she wanted to do this morning. “I talked to him yesterday, just as you asked.”

  As she started past, her mother grabbed her arm. “He said he’s worried because your so-called testimony sounded rehearsed.”

  Oakley stopped to look at her mother, dumbstruck. “Of course it was rehearsed. It was exactly what you told me to say.”

  “It’s not good enough. You’re going to have to do better. He thinks you want your brother to go to jail or worse, prison.”

  She stared at her mother. “What? Why would I want there to be consequences for what CJ did? You’ve spoiled him, letting him get away with everything, always bailing him out. Now he thinks he can get away with even attempted murder.”

  Her mother let go of her abruptly, her expression livid. “Attempted murder? What are you talking about?” She shrieked the words. “That kind of talk will get him sent to prison.”

  “That’s where he belongs, Mother!”

  At the creak of his wheelchair, they both turned to see CJ come into the room. Oakley felt his cold stare and had to fight not to shudder. She hadn’t meant to say as much as she had.

  But she doubted it made a difference. The moment she’d looked into her brother’s eyes when he returned to the ranch, she could tell that he feared she would remember. She’d known then that he would be coming for her again.

  Even if he was locked up for “accidentally” shooting her, he could still get to her. She’d seen the kind of friends he associated with. She’d believed that CJ couldn’t do the job himself. Not if he really was tied to that chair. But after his attacking her the other day and the memory of his hands around her throat, she knew he could kill her himself. And would if she gave him a chance.

  “What’s going on?” CJ asked as if he didn’t know.

  Oakley shook her head. “I don’t know. I was just on my way into the kitchen to get some breakfast.” She stepped away from the two of them, feeling two sets of eyes boring into her back as she went.

  She thought about the smirk she’d seen on her brother’s face. It was going to be hard to keep her breakfast down.

  * * *

  CHARLOTTE WATCHED HER daughter walk away. She could feel CJ watching her as well. She didn’t want to look at him. She didn’t want to see the expression on his face.

  Her cell phone rang, saving her. She turned away from him as she pulled it out and was surprised but at the same time concerned. “I need to take this,” she said, her back still to her son as she walked into her office and closed the door.

  “Is something wrong?” she asked, moving to sit behind her desk. She told herself to be careful as to what she said. CJ could be just outside the door. For that matter, he might have the whole house bugged. That thought sent her pulse into overdrive. It would be just like something he might do. “Can we meet? I can’t talk here. Great.” She disconnected and moved quickly to the door.

  With relief she saw that there was no sign of CJ, but that only made the thought of bugging devices more plausible. “I’m going riding,” she called and hurried to her room to change. Twenty minutes later she walked into the stables after calling Boyle and asking him to saddle her a horse.

  Her horse was saddled. Boyle handed her the reins and she led her mare outside. She shuddered, feeling his gaze on her.

  “Sure you don’t want company?” he asked.

  “Positive.” She checked to make sure her horse was properly saddled. She didn’t have to look in his direction to know that her lack of trust would anger him. Better he know that she didn’t trust him, she thought as she swung up into the saddle and spurred the mare as she rode toward the creek where she and Holden used to make love.

  The creek pooled there among the rocks, deep enough to swim. There’d been a time that the two of them had skinny-dipped there, then lay naked on the large boulders to dry. It was still her favorite spot.

  It was also the place she went when she was upset. It was also the place where Holden knew he could find her.

  * * *

  OAKLEY WAS JUST finishing her breakfast when she heard the creak of the wheelchair behind her. She braced herself as her brother stopped on the opposite side of the table, facing her.

  “You’re looking...different today,” CJ said. “Almost...happy. What’s that about?”

  “None of your business.”

  His eyebrow arched up. “A friend of mine saw you and Pickett go into your apartment in town yesterday. It was hours later that Pickett came back out. He had that same look on his face that you do this morning.”

  She pushed her plate away. “You disgust me.” She shoved back her chair and rose. “Stop spying on me.”

  “He’s lying to you,” CJ said. “Didn’t you wonder when he left to go back east to see his dying father? He ever mention his family before? Did you ever question a name like Pickett Hanson?”

  She stopped and turned slowly to face him, amazed at how low he would stoop. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Don’t I?” CJ’s mouth twisted into a familiar smirk. “His real name is Archibald Vanderlin Westmoreland. He made up the name Pickett Hanson. Got to wonder what else he lied about. Whatever it is, it must be something bad enough that he doesn’t want you to know about it.”

  Oakley wanted to make him take it all back. But hadn’t Pickett tried to tell her yesterday before they’d made love that he wasn’t who she thought he was?

  “He’s lied to everyone for years,” CJ said. “Especially you.”

  She didn’t want it to be true. She stared at her brother, hating him more this moment than she thought possible. “You really are a miserable human being, you know that?”

  He laughed as she turned and left. That laughter followed her all the way to her truck. Her first instinct was to call Pickett, but she didn’t want to do this over the phone. They had a date Saturday night.

  A sob caught in her throat. She had to know the truth. Could it wait until then? She’d been so happy. What if she really didn’t know the man she’d fallen in love with?

  * * *

  AFTER A DAY of mending fence and rounding up the cattle that had gotten out, Pickett was on his way back to the stables when he got the call. The latest storm had dumped a half foot of snow on the ground. The temperatures were dropping again.

  Montana weather was more unpredictable than a woman, ranch manager Deacon Yates liked to say. Pickett didn’t care how long it snowed or froze. He’d never felt like this before. He didn’t need anyone to tell him that he was in love. He felt it soul deep. His mind had been full of Oakley all day. It was no wonder that he’d forgotten his call to the county office about recent land purchases in the Powder River Basin. If his theory was right, then CJ would figure out how to buy land for more privacy before starting up his business again.

  “I have those sales you inquired about,” the clerk at the county office said when he answered his phone. “There aren’t many.” She began to read them off. He was listening for the name CJ Stafford. When she stopped, he realized ruefully that he hadn’t heard the one name he’d been expecting.

  “None by CJ Stafford or the Stafford Ranch?”

  “Sorry.”

  “Wait, what was that second one?”

  “Treyton McKenna. The purchase of a small area east of the river.”

  Treyton? East of the river in the badlands? Was it possible? Treyton and CJ? Still, he asked, “Can you give me the location?” He put it into his phone, thanked her and hung up. For a moment he merely stared at his phone. If he was right, that area east of the river was not farmable, hardly ranch-able.

  Pickett couldn’t be thinking what he was thinking, right? Treyton and CJ were rivals. They hated each other, didn’t they? But they were also a lot alike, he reminded himself.

  Why would Treyton buy badlands unless the area was rich in coalbeds and he planned to drill methane wells. Or hide a meth and human trafficking business?

  He’d been wondering if Holden knew about Treyton’s purchase and was anxious to see the property. But he’d promised Holly Jo that he’d teach her a few more riding tricks when she got out of school today. There were a couple that he hadn’t practiced for a while.

  On his way to saddle up a horse, he heard his name being called and turned to find Holden motioning to him. He turned back toward the house, wondering if he should share what he’d discovered. Holden might already know and would take offense that his ranch hand was keeping tabs on his son.

  “Big day planned?” the rancher asked.

  “Didn’t get much done yesterday,” he admitted. “I’ve got a trick riding lesson later with Holly Jo. I was just going to saddle up.”

  The rancher smiled. “Thank you for doing that. I know how much it means to her. If you have a moment, I’d like to talk to you about something.”

  Pickett nodded and they headed for the den where Holden had his office. It was a large, well-appointed room with deep leather chairs, a large wood desk and a fireplace and bar. He was curious what his boss wanted, but became more concerned when Holden closed and locked the door behind them.

  Holden must have seen his expression because he said, “I just don’t want us to be disturbed. In this household, that is always a problem.”

  Pickett waited as the rancher took one of the leather chairs and motioned that he should join him. He dropped into a chair across from his boss, his heart drumming. He’d never asked for any time off to leave the ranch. Since his return, he hadn’t worked much. Was it possible he was being fired? Or was this about Dirty Business? Maybe his boss had found out about him being in the subversive grassroots organization to stop drilling. Or maybe—

  “This isn’t easy for me,” Holden said. “I’m not one to butt into other people’s business.” He cleared his voice. “Can I get you a drink?”

  Pickett shook his head. “You don’t need to beat around the bush with me. We’ve known each other for too long.”

  The rancher smiled and seemed to relax a little. “After all these years, I think of you as family.”

  “I’m glad to hear that because that’s how I feel about the McKenna Ranch.”

  Nodding, the older man said, “When you asked for time off because your father was ill, I was worried about you. I was aware that you’d never left the ranch before that I knew of—or mentioned family. It was out of concern that I did some checking on you,” he said, rushing on before Pickett could speak. “I apologize for that.”

  “You found out that I wasn’t born Pickett Hanson,” he said. Hadn’t he always figured that might happen? “I’m the one who should be apologizing. I didn’t mean to keep anything from you. I had my name legally changed.”

  Holden sat back. “Why did you?” He sounded more curious than upset.

  “Because I wanted a new life when I left home. When you hired me on, I thought it would be temporary, but I loved living here, the job suited me and I felt as if I’d come home.”

  “That’s why you insisted on being paid with cash, under the table, so to speak,” Holden said.

  “I couldn’t get my name changed legally until I was twenty-one. I legally became Pickett Hanson. By then, it felt too late to say anything.”

  “It’s none of my business, but I have to ask why you had to do that.”

  Pickett chuckled, shaking his head. “It wasn’t because I was on the run from the law or being mistreated by my family or in any kind of trouble. I’m assuming you found out that my name is Archibald Vanderlin Westmoreland the fourth. That alone should explain why I was anxious to change it—and change the life that had been laid out for me from my birth. I felt I had no choice, as the only heir. Because of that, I was expected to take over my father’s holdings. It was the last thing I wanted so I left, escaped. I’m sure you can understand also why I didn’t tell anyone out here my real name. I wanted people to like me for who I was, not for my family’s money.”

  Holden nodded slowly. “You’ve certainly succeeded in doing that. Duffy thinks the sun rises and sets on you. The rest of us are quite enamored as well. But I have to ask...” The rancher’s gaze held his. “What happens now that your father is deceased? I hope you’re not planning to leave us.”

  Pickett laughed and shook his head. “Not a chance as long as you’re happy with me being here.”

  “What about your father’s...holdings?”

  He knew right away what Holden was asking—just as he’d known that the rancher would see through the endowment that he’d had the family lawyer set up.

  “I gave almost all of it away except for enough to purchase some land for a house should the day come when I get married, and plenty of savings for retirement when I can’t get my foot into a stirrup—though I’ll fight that as long as I can.”

  Pickett could see that his boss was waiting for him to say it. “I never saw my family’s wealth as a blessing. To me it was an anchor around my neck. But my father and I talked before he died. He convinced me that it didn’t have to be that way. That I could share some of it and still keep the life I love. I hope he was right. Because I’m still Pickett Hanson. Just a ranch hand who loves his job.”

  Holden studied him for a long moment. “Well, son, you have a place here on the McKenna Ranch for as long as you want. As for that land should you get married, I would be honored to have it be on this ranch. Like my other sons, you have your choice of a spot to build on.” With that, he rose and extended his hand. “Thank you. Your secret is safe with me.”

  Pickett tried to swallow the lump that had formed in his throat. “Thank you,” he said as he shook the man’s hand. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate that. There is no place I’d rather be than right here.”

  Now all he had to do was tell Oakley.

  As he left, he was glad that Holden hadn’t mentioned the endowment. This way they could both pretend that they didn’t know where it came from.