As the pickup bounced along the muddy track to the old
homestead, Dana Cardwell stared out at the wind-scoured
Montana landscape, haunted by the premonition she'd had
the night before.
She had awakened in the darkness to the howl of the
unusually warm wind against her bedroom window and the
steady drip of melting snow from the eaves. A Chinook had
blown in.
When she'd looked out, she'd seen the bare old aspens
vibrating in the wind, limbs etched black against the
clear night sky. It felt as if something had awakened her
to warn her.
The feeling had been so strong that she'd had trouble
getting back to sleep only to wake this morning to Warren
Fitzpatrick banging on the door downstairs.
"There's something you'd better see," the elderly ranch
manager had said.
And now, as Warren drove them up the bumpy road from the
ranch house to the old homestead, she felt a chill at the
thought of what waited for her at the top of the hill. Was
this what she'd been warned about?
Warren pulled up next to the crumbling foundation and cut
the engine. The wind howled across the open hillside,
keeling over the tall yellowed grass and gently rocking
the pickup.
It was called the January Thaw. Without the blanket of
white snow, the land looked rung out, all color washed
from the hills until everything was a dull brown-gray. The
only green was a few lone pines swaying against the wind-
rinsed sky.
Little remained of the homestead house. Just part of the
rock foundation and the fireplace, the chimney as stark as
the pines against the horizon.
Past it, in the soft, wet earth, Dana saw Warren's tracks
where he had walked to the old well earlier this morning.
All that marked the well was a circle of rock and a few
weathered boards that covered part of the opening.
Warren cocked his head as if he already heard the
marshal's SUV coming up the ranch road. Dana strained her
ears but heard nothing over the pounding of her heart.
She was glad Warren had always been a man of few words.
She was already on edge without having to talk about what
he'd found.
The elderly ranch manager was as dried out as a stick of
jerky and just as tough, but he knew more about cattle
than any man Dana had ever known. And he was as loyal as
an old dog. Until recently, he and Dana had run the ranch
together. She knew Warren wouldn't have gotten her up here
unless it was serious.
As Dana caught the whine of the approaching vehicle over
the wind, the sound growing louder, her dread grew with it.
Warren had told her last night that he'd noticed the
boards were off the old dry well again. "I think I'll just
fill it in. Safer that way. Give me something to do."
Like a lot of Montana homesteads, the well was just a hole
in the ground, unmarked except for maybe a few old boards
thrown over it, and because of that, dangerous to anyone
who didn't know it was there.
"Whatever you think," she'd told him the night before.
She'd been distracted and really hadn't cared.
But she cared now. She just hoped Warren was wrong about
what he'd seen in the bottom of the well.
They'd know soon enough, she thought as she turned to
watch the Gallatin Canyon marshal's black SUV come roaring
up the road from the river.
"Scrappy's driving faster than usual," she said
frowning. "You must have lit a fire under him when you
called him this morning."
"Scrappy Morgan isn't marshal anymore," Warren said.
"What?" She glanced over at him. He had a strange look on
his weathered face.
"Scrappy just up and quit. They had to hire a temporary
marshal to fill in for a while."
"How come I never hear about these things?" But she knew
the answer to that. She'd always been too busy on the
ranch to keep up with canyon gossip. Even now that she
worked down in Big Sky, her ties were still more with the
ranching community โ what little of it was left in the
Gallatin Canyon since the town of Big Sky had sprung up at
the base of Lone Mountain. A lot of the ranchers had sold
out or subdivided to take advantage of having a ski and
summer resort so close by.
"So who's the interim marshal?" she asked as the Sheriff's
Department SUV bounded up the road, the morning sun
glinting off the windshield. She groaned.
"Not Scrappy's nephew Franklin? Tell me it's anyone but
him."
Warren didn't answer as the new marshal brought the black
SUV with the Montana State marshal logo on the side to a
stop right next to her side of the pickup.
All the breath rushed from her as she looked over and saw
the man behind the wheel.
"Maybe I should have warned you," Warren said, sounding
sheepish.
"That would've been nice," she muttered between gritted
teeth as she met Hudson Savage's clear blue gaze. His look
gave nothing away. The two of them might have been
strangers โ instead of former lovers โ for all the
expression that showed in his handsome face.
Her emotions boiled up like one of the Yellowstone geysers
just down the road. First shock and right on its heels
came fury. When Hud had left town five years ago, she'd
convinced herself she'd never have to lay eyes on that
sorry son of a bitch again. And here he was. Damn, just
when she thought things couldn't get any worse.
OVER THE YEARS as a policeman in L.A., Hudson "Hud" Savage
had stared down men who were bigger and stronger. Some had
guns, some knives and baseball bats.
But none unnerved him like the look in Dana Card-well's
whiskey-brown glare.
He dragged his gaze away, turning to pick up the heavy-
duty flashlight from the seat next to him. Coward. If just
seeing her had this affect on him, he hated to think what
talking would do.
Her reaction to him was pretty much what he'd expected.
He'd known she would be far from happy to see him. But he
had hoped she wouldn't be as furious as she'd been when
he'd left town. But given the look in her eyes, he'd say
that was one wasted hope.
And damn if it was no less painful than it had been five
years ago seeing her anger, her hurt.
Not that he blamed her. He hadn't just left town, he'd
flat-out run, tail tucked between his legs.
But he was back now.
He picked up the flashlight and, bracing himself against
the wind and Dana Cardwell, he opened his door and stepped
out.
The sun glinted off the truck's windshield so he couldn't
see her face as he walked to the front of the SUV. But he
could feel her gaze boring into him like a bullet as he
snugged his Stetson down to keep it from sailing off in
the wind.
When Warren had called the office this morning, Hud had
instructed him not to go near the well again.
The ranch foreman's original tracks to and from the well
were the only ones in the soft dirt. It surprised Hud
though that Dana hadn't gotten out to take a look before
he arrived. She obviously hadn't known the order was from
him or she would have defied it sure as the devil.
As he looked out across the ranch, memories of the two of
them seemed to blow through on the breeze. He could see
them galloping on horseback across that far field of wild
grasses, her long, dark hair blowing back, face lit by
sunlight, eyes bright, grinning at him as they raced back
to the barn.
They'd been so young, so in love. He felt that old ache,
desire now coupled with heartbreak and regret.
Behind him, he heard first one pickup door open, then the
other. The first one closed with a click, the second
slammed hard. He didn't have to guess whose door that had
been.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Warren hang back,
waiting by the side of his pickup, out of the way โ and
out of earshot as well as the line of fire. Warren was no
fool.
"Are we goin' to stand here all day admiring the scenery
or are we goin' to take a look in the damned well?" Dana
asked as she joined Hud.
He let out a bark of nervous laughter and looked over at
her, surprised how little she'd changed and glad of it.
She was small, five-four compared to his six-six. She
couldn't weigh a hundred and ten pounds soaking wet, but
what there was of her was a combination of soft curves and
hard-edged stubborn determination. To say he'd never known
anyone like her was putting it mildly.
He wanted to tell her why he'd come back, but the glint in
her eye warned him she was no more ready to hear it than
she'd been when he'd left.
"Best take a look in that well then," he said.
"Good idea." She stood back as he trailed Warren's tracks
to the hole in the ground.
A half-dozen boards had once covered the well. Now only a
couple remained on the single row of rocks rimming the
edge. The other boards appeared to have been knocked off
by the wind or fallen into the well.
He flipped on the flashlight and shone the beam down into
the hole. The well wasn't deep, about fifteen feet, like
looking off the roof of a two-story house. Had it been
deeper, Warren would never have seen what lay in the
bottom.
Hud leaned over the opening, the wind whistling in his
ears, the flashlight beam a pale gold as it skimmed the
dirt bottom โ and the bones.
Hunting with his father as a boy, Hud had seen his share
of remains over the years. The sun-bleached skeletons of
deer, elk, moose, cattle and coyotes were strewn all over
rural Montana.
But just as Warren had feared, the bones lying at the
bottom of the Cardwell Ranch dry well weren't from any
wild animal.
DANA STOOD BACK, her hands in the pockets of her coat, as
she stared at Hud's broad back.
She wished she didn't know him so well. The moment he'd
turned on the flashlight and looked down, she'd read the
answer in his shoulders. Her already upset stomach did a
slow roll and she thought for a moment she might be sick.
Dear God, what was in the well? Who was in the well?
Hud glanced back at her, his blue eyes drilling her to the
spot where she stood, all the past burning there like a
hot blue flame.
But instead of heat, she shivered as if a cold wind blew
up from the bottom of the well. A cold that could chill in
ways they hadn't yet imagined as Hud straightened and
walked back to her.
"Looks like remains of something, all right," Hud said,
giving her that same noncommittal look he had when he'd
driven up.
The wind whipped her long dark hair around her face. She
took a painful breath and let it go, fighting the wind,
fighting a weakness in herself that made her angry and
scared. "They're human bones, aren't they?"
Hud dragged his hat off and raked a hand through his hair,
making her fingers tingle remembering the feel of that
thick sun-streaked mop of his. "Won't be certain until we
get the bones to the lab."
She looked away, angry at him on so many levels that it
made it hard to be civil. "I know there are human remains
down there. Warren said he saw a human skull. So stop
lying to me."
Hud's eyes locked with hers and she saw anger spark in all
that blue. He didn't like being called a liar. But then,
she could call him much worse if she got started.
© 2003-2026