Excerpt of Justice At Cardwell Ranch by B.J. Daniels

The breeze rustled through the aspens, sending golden leaves whirling around him as he walked up the hill to the cemetery. He wore a straw western hat he'd found on a peg by the backdoor of the ranch house. He hadn't worn a cowboy hat since he'd left Montana twenty years ago, but this one kept his face from burning from the hot sun. It was so much easier to get sunburned at this high altitude than it was in New York City.

The day was hot and yet he could feel the promise of winter hiding at the edge of the fall day. Only the memory of summer remained in the Gallatin River Canyon. Cold nightly temperatures had turned the aspens to glittering shades of gold and orange against the dark green of the pines standing nearby.

Below him, he could hear the rushing water of the Gallatin River as it cut a winding course through the canyon. Across the river, sheer granite cliffs rose up to where the sun hung in a faded blue Montana sky.

As he walked, the scent of crushed dry leaves beneath his soles sent up the remembered smell of other autumns. He knew this land. As hard as he tried to escape it, this place was branded on him, this life as familiar was his own heartbeat – even after all these years.

Soon the aspens would be bare, the limbs dark against a winter–washed pale cold sky. The water in the horse troughs would begin to freeze and so would the pooling eddys along edge of the river.

He thought of all the winters he'd spent in this canyon listening to the ice crack on the river, feeling the bite of snow as it blew off a pine bough to sting his face, breathing in a bone–weary cold that made his head ache.

He'd done his time here, he thought as he turned his face up to the last of the day's warmth before the sun disappeared behind the cliffs. The days had been getting shorter now for weeks. It was a warning of what was to come, he thought as he reached the wrought iron cemetery gate.

The gate groaned as he shoved it open. He hesitated. What was he doing here? Nearby the breeze sighed in the tops of the towering pines, drawing his attention to the dense stand of pines. He didn't remember them being so tall. Or so dark and dense. As he watched the boughs sway, he told himself to make this quick. He didn't want to get caught her.

Even though it was a family cemetery, he didn't feel welcome here. His own fault, but still, it could get messy if anyone from his family caught him on the ranch. He didn't plan to stick around long enough to see any of them. It was best that way, he told himself as he stepped on through the gate into the small cemetery.

He'd never liked graveyards. Nor did it give him any comfort to know that more than a dozen remains of their relatives were interned here. He took no satisfaction in the long lineage of the Justice family, let alone the Cardwell one, in this canyon – unlike his sister.

Dana found strength in know that their ancestors had been mule–headed ranchers who'd weathered everything Montana had thrown at them to stay on this land. They'd settled along a stretch of the Gallatin, a crystal clear trout stream that ran a hundred miles from Yellowstone Park to the Missouri River. Beautiful but deadly.

The narrow canyon got little sunlight each day. In the winter, it was an icebox of ice and snow. Getting up to feed the animals had been pure hell. He'd never understood why any of them had stayed.

But they had, he thought as he surveyed the tombstones. They'd fought this land to remain here and now they would spend eternity in soil that had given them little in return for their labors.

A gust of wind rattled through the colorful aspen leaves and moaned in the high branches of the pines. Dead aspen leaves floated like gold coins around him, showering the weather–bleached gravestones. He was reminded why he'd never liked coming up here to this wind–blown hill. He found no peace among the dead. Nor had he come here today looking for it.

He moved quickly through the gravestones until he found the one stone that was newer than the others, only six years in the ground. The name on the tombstone was Mary Justice Cardwell.

"Hello, Mother," he said removing his hat as he felt all the conflicting emotions he'd had when she was alive. All the arguments came rushing back, making him sick at the memory. It had been such wasted effort. He hadn't been able to change her mind and now she was gone, leaving behind the mess she'd created.

He could almost hear their last argument whispered on the wind. "There is nothing keeping you here, let alone me," he'd contested. "are you fighting so hard to keep this place going? Can't you see that ranching is going to kill you?"

He recalled her smile, that gentle gleam in her eyes that infuriated him. "I have everything I want here. This land is what makes me happy, son. Someday you will realize that ranching is in our blood. You can fight it if you want, but this isn't just your home, a part of your heart is here as well."

"Like hell," he'd said. "Sell the ranch, Mother, before it's too late. If not for yourself and the rest of us, then for Dana. She's too much like you. She will spend her life fighting this land to keep this land. Don't do that to her."

"She'll keep this ranch for the day when you come back to help her run it."

"That's never going to happen, Mother."

Mary Justice Cardwell had smiled that knowing smile of hers. "Only time will tell, won't it?"

He turned the hat brim nervously in his fingers as he looked down at his mother's grave and searched for the words to tell her how much he hated what she'd done to him. To all of them. But to his surprise, he felt tears well in his eyes, his throat constricting on a gulf of emotion he hadn't anticipated.

A gust of wind bent the pine boughs and blew down to scatter dried leaves across the landscape. His skin rippled with goosebumps as he sensed someone watching him. His head came up, his gaze going to the darkness of the pines. She was only a few yards away. He hadn't heard the woman on horseback approach and realized she must have been there the whole time watching him.

She sat astride a large buckskin horse. Shadows played across her face from the swaying pine boughs. The breeze lifted the long dark hair that flowed like molten obsidian over her shoulders and half way down her back.

There was something vaguely familiar about her. But if he'd known her years before when this was home, he couldn't place her now. He'd been gone too long from Montana.

And yet a memory pulled at him. His gaze settled on her face again, the wide–set green eyes, that look.

With a curse, he knew in that instant where he'd seen her before – and why she'd been spying him. A shudder moved through him as if someone had just walked over his grave.

–#–

Liza Turner had watched the man slog up the hill, his footsteps slow, his head down, as he were going to a funeral. So she hadn't been surprised when he's pushed open the gate to the cemetery and stepped in.

At first she'd been mildly curious after reining her horse in under the pines. She loved this spot after a horseback ride, loved looking across the canyon. It was always cool in the trees. She liked listening to the river flowing emerald green below her on the hillside and taking a moment to study the granite cliffs on the other side for mountain sheep.

She hadn't expected to see anyone on her ride this morning. When she'd driven into the ranch for her usual ride, she'd seen the Cardwell Ranch pickup leaving and remembered. Hud was taking Dana into Bozeman today for her doctor's appointment. They were leaving the kids with Dana's best friend and former business partner, Hilde at Needles and Pins, the local fabric store.

The only other person on the ranch was the aging ranch manager, Warren Fitzpatrick. Warren would be watching Let's Make a Deal at his cabin this time of the morning.

So Liza had been curious and a bit suspicious when she'd first laid eyes on the stranger in the straw western hat. As far as she knew, no one else should have been on the ranch today. So who was this tall, broad–shouldered cowboy? Dana had talked about hiring some help since Warren was getting up in years. She had her hands full with a four– and five–year–old to keep her busy, not to mention being pregnant with twins.

But if this man was the new hired hand, why would he be interested in the Justice/Cardwell family cemetery? She felt the skin on her neck prickle. There was something about this cowboy... His face had been in shadow from the brim of his western straw hat. When he'd stopped at one of the graves and had taken his hat off, head bowed, she still hadn't been able to get a good look at his face.

Shifting in the saddle, she'd tried to get a better look at him now. He must have heard the creak of leather or sensed her presence. His head came up, his gaze darting right to the spot where she sat astride her horse. He looked startled at first, then confused as if he was trying to place her.

She blinked, not sure she could trust her eyes. Jordan Cardwell?

This man looked completely different from the arrogant man in the three–piece expensive suit she'd crossed paths with six years ago. He wore jeans, a button–up shirt and work boots. He looked tanned, stronger as if he'd been doing manual labor, and there was only a hint of the arrogance in his expression, making him more handsome than she remembered.

She saw the exact moment when he recognized her. Bitterness burned in his dark gaze as a small resentful smile tugged at his lips.

Oh yes, it was Jordan Cardwell all right, she thought, wondering what had made her think he was handsome just moments before or – even harder to believe, that he might have changed.

Six years ago he'd been the number one suspect in a murder as well as a suspect in an attempted murder. Liza had been the deputy who'd taken his fingerprints.

She wondered now what he was doing not only back in the canyon – but on the ranch he and his siblings had fought so hard to take from their sister Dana.

–#–

Dana Savage lay back on the examining table, nervously picking at a fingernail. "I can't remember the last time I saw my feet," she said with a groan.

Dr. Pamela Burr laughed. "This might feel a little cold."

Dana tried not to flinch as the doctor applied petroleum jelly to her huge belly. She closed her eyes and waited until she heard the heartbeats before she opened them again. "So everything is okay?"

"Your babies appear to be doing fine. Don't you want to look?"

Dana didn't look at the monitor. "You know Hud. He's determined to be surprised. Just like the last two. So I don't dare look." She shot a glance at her husband. He stood next to her, his gaze on her, not the screen. He smiled, but she could see he was worried.

The doctor shut off the machine. "As for the spotting..."

Dana felt her heart drop as she saw the concern in Dr. Burr's expression.

"I'm going to have to insist on bed rest for these last few weeks," she said. "Let's give these babies the best start we can by leaving them where they are for now." She looked to Hud.

"You can count on me," he said. "It's Dana you need to convince."

Dana sat up and laid her hands over her extended stomach. She felt the twins moving around in the cramped space. Poor babies. "Okay."

"You understand what bed rest means?" the doctor asked. "No ranch business, no getting up except to occasionally shower and use the bathroom. You're going to need help with Hank and Mary."

That was putting it mildly when you had a four– and five–year–old who were wild as the canyon where they lived.

"I'm sure Hud––"

"You'll need more than his help." The doctor pressed a piece of paper into her hand. "These are several women you might call that I've used before."

Dana didn't like the idea of bringing in a stranger to take care of Hud and the kids, but the babies kicked and she nodded.

"Doc said I was going to have to watch you like a hawk," Hud told her on the way home. Apparently while she was getting dressed, Dr. Burr had been bending his ear down the hall in her office. "You always try to do too much. With the kids, the ranch, me––."

"I'll be good."

He gave her a disbelieving look.

"Marshal, would you like a sworn affidavit?"

He grinned over at her. "Actually, I'm thinking about handcuffing you to the bed. I reckon it will be the only way I can keep you down for a day let alone a few weeks."

Dana groaned as she realized how hard it was going to be to stay in bed. "What about Hank and Mary? They won't understand why their mommy can't be up and around, let alone outside with them and their animals." Both of them had their own horses and loved to ride.

"I've already put in for a leave. Liza can handle things. Anyway, it's in between resort seasons so it's quiet."

September through the middle of November was slow around Big Sky with the summer tourists gone and ski season still at least a month away. Hunters were the only problem and the Fish and Game guys could handle most of that.

Dana knew October was probably a better time than any other for her husband to be off work. That wasn't the problem. "Hud, I hate to see you have to babysit me and the kids."

"It's not babysitting when it's your wife and kids, Dana."

"You know what I mean. There are the kids and the ranch––."

"Honey, you've been trying to do it all for too long."

She had been juggling a lot of balls for some time now, but Hud always helped on the weekends. Their ranch manager Warren Fitzpatrick was getting up in years so he had really slowed down. But Warren was a fixture around the ranch, one she couldn't afford to replace not to mention she loved the hands–on part of ranching.

When she'd found out she was pregnant this time she'd been delighted, but a little worried how she was going to handle another child right now.

Then the doctor had told her she was having twins. Twins? Seriously?

"Are you all right?" Hud asked as he placed his hand over hers and squeezed.

She smiled and nodded. "I'm always all right when I'm with you."

He gave her hand another squeeze before he went back to driving. "I'm taking you home. Then I'll go by the shop and pick up the kids. But I'd better not find out you were up and about while I was gone."

Dana shook her head and made a cross with her finger over her heart. She lay back and closed her eyes, praying as she had since the spotting had begun that the babies she was carrying would be all right. Mary and Hank were so excited about the prospect of two little brothers or sisters. She couldn't disappoint them.

She couldn't disappoint anyone, especially her mother, she thought. While Mary Justice Cardwell had been gone six years now, she was as much a part of the ranch as the old, two–story house where Dana lived. Her mother had trusted her to keep Cardwell Ranch going. Against all odds, she was doing her darnedest to keep that promise.

So why did she feel so scared as if waiting for the other shoe to drop?