Kian (Men of Clifton, Montana #48)

Chapter One

At his desk in the Clifton office, Kian Doyle sifted through various files. It had been six months since he transferred from Helena to Clifton, and he was happy to be working alongside his fraternal twin, Killian. Thankfully, his seniority, health benefits, and vacation days remained intact after the transfer.

“Kian? I know you’re starting your vacation Monday, but could you take a look at this file when you get a chance?” Dave Merkle, his boss, asked.

“Sure. What’s it about?”

“Two horses were stolen. I’m not sure how many people are involved, but more than one would be my guess. If you can review it, maybe when you return from your vacation, we’ll have a head start on catching them. I’d give it to someone else, but everyone is working on something.”

“No problem, Dave. I don’t plan on doing much during my first week off anyway.” Kian grinned.

“In my opinion, that’s the best kind of vacation. I’ll see you when you get back.” Dave walked back to his office.

Kian noticed Killian getting up from his desk and walking toward him. He shook his head.

“I’ll text you every so often,” he said as he looked at his brother.

“Alright. I won’t bother you.”

“That sounds good. You know how there are a lot of places you can’t get cell service, but I’ll try my best to keep in touch. I really need this vacation, Killian. It’s been five years since my last one. I plan on spending a week doing nothing and then looking for a house.”

“Sounds to me like he’s making excuses not to keep in touch, Killian,” Hudson ‘Hud’ Anderson said with a grin.

“I’m sure you know how that goes with having two brothers, along with a cousin here.” Killian shook his head. “It’s bad enough having one.”

“Keep it up, and I’ll just disappear,” Kian said, making his brother and Hud laugh.

“Okay. Let me know when you get back. Don’t make me come find you.”

Kian grinned. “Deal. I promise to text you but not every day.” He shrugged. “It will depend on where I am.”

“Fine by me. Have a good vacation.”

“I’ll definitely try.”

Killian nodded and returned to his desk.

They used to work together in the Helena office until Killian came to Clifton to help with a case two years ago. Once it was solved, Killian was offered a position in the Clifton office. He enjoyed the area so much that he accepted the job. One weekend, Kian visited his brother in Clifton and fell in love with the town.

After meeting Dave Merkle, Kian expressed interest in working in Clifton if any openings became available. And one did. Six months later, Kian was offered a job, accepted it, and never looked back. He had given his two weeks’ notice, moved to Clifton, and he was grateful he did. It was a great little town.

There weren’t many times that Dave sent them together on a job because of being brothers, but occasionally, he’d let them go together to check out a place. Kian knew it was the same with anyone related in the department.

By the third day of his vacation, he was bored. Sitting in his apartment perusing the file Dave had given him. He despised people like this. Rustling went on more than people realized, and the thieves stealing a person’s livelihood were some of the worst people he’d ever come across.

Kian had found livestock slaughtered for no reason. He’d been involved in a case a few years ago where two ranchers hated each other and one of them hired men to steal the other rancher’s horses and kill them. Kian wanted to wrap his hands around the man’s neck. He was where he belonged. In prison.

The thing about the missing horses, was there were no trailer tracks. Two horses didn’t just disappear. There were several hoofprints in the pasture, but nothing else. No shoeprints and no tire prints of any kind. The only thing he could think was someone rode a horse to where the horses were grazing. Which meant it could be an inside job.

As he examined photos of the horses, his anger grew, and he hoped these horses would be found before any harm came to them.

“Assholes,” he muttered under his breath.

His cellphone buzzed and he picked it up to see Dave’s number.

“Damn, Dave are you calling me back to work already?” Kian muttered as he put the phone to his ear.

“Dave? What’s up?”

“I just had a call from some snowboarders. They said they saw a horse where they were boarding. I was skeptical, but they sent me a photo. I’ll send it to you. I just wanted to let you know so you could find where the horse was spotted once you got back. I have no idea exactly where they saw it. All I know is the vicinity. They said they were snowboarding through trees and when they made the clearing, they saw the horse. It ran off when they tried to get close to it, so there’s no idea where it went from there. Nothing said about the other missing horse. Hell, it might not be one of the missing horses.”

“Alright. Is it far from the ranch they were taken from?”

“Yes, that’s why I’m a little skeptical about it being one of the horses we’re looking for. I’ll send you the coordinates, but it’s going to be hard getting in there. According to their location, they’re surrounded by woods.”

“How in the hell are they snowboarding?”

“They said they went through the woods and came out in a clearing. That’s where they saw the horse.”

“Alright. Send me the photos. I’ll put them with the file.”

“On the way. Enjoy your time off.” Dave hung up.

Looking at the clock, Kian saw it was only ten o’clock in the morning. Deciding he had nothing else to do and feeling restless, he decided to take a drive out to the area and see if he could find any leads. Although he did promise his brother, he would be doing nothing during his first week off, boredom was already getting the best of him.

A chuckle escaped him. “Third day of vacation and you’re already bored.” He had weekends off unless he was needed, so he’d been lazy through the weekend, along with Monday and Tuesday, but now he was getting antsy.

After slipping on his insulated cowboy boots, he unlocked the gun safe, opened the lid and removed his weapon. After putting his holster on, he pinned his badge to his belt, put the gun in the sheath, snapped the retainer button, then pulled on his protective vest. He grabbed his hat and coat from the hook by the door, put them on, and stepped out. He turned to lock the door behind him before jogging down the steps and across the parking lot to his truck. He pressed the button on his fob to unlock it, climbed inside, and started the engine. Entering the coordinates into his GPS, he saw he had to drive almost twenty miles. With a deep breath, he drove out of the lot. The roads were snow-covered but passable.

As he drove along Gatlin Road, he noticed a ‘Personal Property’ sign hanging on a post next to what could have been back road but must lead to a house or hunting cabin. When he got closer to the coordinates of his destination, he scanned the area and pulled into the deep snow on the shoulder of the road. The snow was much deeper in the area than in town. The expanse of the forest left him unsure of where to begin. He picked up the photos once more and studied them closely.

“I guess this is as good a place as any.” Removing his phone from his pocket, he entered the coordinates for where the horse had been spotted.

Donning a pair of gloves, he shut off the engine, opened the glovebox to get his binoculars, then stepped out of the truck. He didn’t know if he’d see anyone, but he wasn’t taking any chances. He removed his hat, pulled the strap on the binoculars over his head, then placed his hat back on his head, and pulled it down low. Tugging his collar up, he locked his truck and followed the directions on his phone. Then he trudged through the deep snow, grateful for his choice of boots. His jeans were going to be soaked by the time he headed back home.

Cresting a small hill, he spotted two sets of footprints ahead of him. He didn’t know if they belonged to the snowboarders or someone else. Quietly following the tracks for close to fifteen minutes, he stopped when he saw two men ahead of him. They weren’t the snowboarders. It looked like these two men were hunting.

Kian put the binoculars to his eyes and looked at the men. They both carried rifles, and Kian clenched his jaw when he saw the wolf pelts on their backpacks. Hunting season for wolves was mid-September to mid-March. It was now the last week of March, so they were hunting illegally. Thankfully, they didn’t seem to notice that he was trailing them. He continued to follow at a distance, not wanting to spook them. He knew he’d have to call Montana Fish, Wildlife, and Parks, but he didn’t want to make any sound yet.

Staying hidden behind trees, Kian put his binoculars to his eyes again and moved them along the woods and caught a glimpse of a fresh wolf carcass. Anger surged within him; these men were definitely killing wolves and taking their pelts. Hunting was a popular sport in Montana, but there were strict regulations that needed to be followed.

Quickly sending a text message to his brother, informing him that he found some wolf poachers, and telling him he’d call FWP, Kian put his phone away. Feeling it vibrate with a reply, Kian ignored it and moved closer to the men. However, when he stepped on a branch, making it snap, both men stopped and looked around.

“Damn it,” Kian muttered under his breath as he ducked behind a tree. Luckily, they resumed walking again and he let out a sigh of relief. He continued to trail behind them until they stopped once more, this time raising their rifles. Kian spotted a wolf in the distance; he couldn’t let them take another animal.

He removed his weapon from the holster, turned the safety off, pointed the gun at the men, and shouted, “Montana Department of Livestock! Drop your rifles and put your hands up!”

They turned to look at him, but before he could make his next move, he heard a shot just as a sharp pain pierced his shoulder as a bullet ripped through his arm, between his arm and his protective vest, making him curse. Another shot rang out, grazing his head above his ear, causing him to flinch and inhale sharply at the pain. He tried to steady himself against a nearby tree, but as another shot rang out, he tried to move but the snow made him slip and his head slammed against a nearby boulder, and everything went dark as he lost consciousness.

****

Gretchen stood in the warm, cozy kitchen of her cabin, drinking her coffee as she gazed out the large window at the swirling snowflakes falling from the cloudy sky. The radio had warned of an impending winter storm, but Gretchen was used to harsh winters living in this secluded part of Clifton, Montana.

Just then, the pet door flap swung open and Lobo, her Malamute, trotted inside; his back and head covered in snow. He shook his body, throwing snow in all directions, then sat down in front of her with his big brown eyes fixed on her. She chuckled as he let out a playful bark.

After filling Lobo’s food dish, Gretchen walked to the living room to get a fire going in the hearth. The cabin had heat and air, but she liked to keep a fire going when it was so cold, in case the power went out due to storms. She kept the dog in after sunset because she didn’t want him running all over the place when predators could be around.

Her cabin sat on five acres of posted land, but there were always trespassers who disregarded the signs. Lobo’s striking resemblance to a wolf put him at risk of being mistaken for one and getting shot by trigger-happy hunters. It was a constant worry for Gretchen.

Alone in her remote cabin, Gretchen relished the solitude and peacefulness it offered her. She was used to fending for herself and didn’t need anyone else around. But as she searched for something for breakfast, she couldn’t shake off a sense of unease.

Rummaging through her fridge, she found nothing appealing, so decided on toast.

Once it was done, she sat at the table. But just as she was about to take a bite, Lobo suddenly stood up and growled fiercely at the door. Gretchen’s heart skipped a beat as she slowly made her way to the window, pulling back the curtain to peer outside.

“Stay,” she told the dog.

The thick snow blew past the window, making it impossible to see anything. But then she heard it, the unmistakable sound of a gunshot, followed quickly by two more, off in the distance. Her hand flew to her mouth in shock as she stumbled back from the window. She quickly closed the pet door. She couldn’t be sure how close the shots had been, but she wasn’t taking any chances.

Lobo continued to growl, his hackles rising as he stood guard at the door. In a moment of fear and instinct, Gretchen picked up her keys, rushed to her gun cabinet and retrieved a high-powered rifle. She loaded it quickly and sat on her sofa, heart racing as she waited for whoever was outside to make a move.

But as a few minutes passed by and Lobo finally lay down, it seemed like the danger had passed. Gretchen cautiously unloaded the rifle and locked it back in the cabinet before returning to the table, shaken but grateful that she and Lobo were safe.

She opened the door, stepped onto the porch and listened but all she heard was the snow falling to the ground. It was very quiet. She noticed Lobo standing stock still, staring off into the woods. It was probably a squirrel or something. Shaking her head, she reentered the cabin, closed the door, and opened the pet flap.

“Stay close,” she said as Lobo ran out the door. She watched him sniff around in the snow then headed for a tree.

As she waited for her second cup of coffee to brew, she peered out the window at the falling snow again. It was falling steadily, and there looked to be at least six inches of snow on top of the four they already had. The sky was dark grey, heavy with clouds, making it look later than it actually was.

Sipping on her steaming cup of coffee, she made her way to the living room and settled onto the soft sofa. She reached for the remote and flicked on the TV, watching the news while she sipped her coffee. She only had a satellite dish and at times, the weather knocked it out. She had no internet or cellphone service. She usually had to walk a little through the woods to be able to make a call.

As she listened to the updates on current events, she couldn’t help but think about her own work, her paintings. With a popular gallery in New York wanting five of her paintings, she was pushing it. She had to let them know that she couldn’t even ship her paintings because of the snow. No one was going anywhere. There was no way she could make it into the Post Office in Clifton, even with her four-wheel-drive SUV. She knew she’d have to take a walk tomorrow so she could call the gallery.

She heard the pet flap, then Lobo appeared beside her, covered in snow, and barking insistently at her.

“Could I finish my coffee first?” She laughed at his persistence as he ran back out through the pet door, only to return a minute later.

He barked at her again and then ran back out. With a sigh, she got up and headed to the kitchen, just in time to see Lobo come back inside, covered in more snow. He stared at her for a moment before running toward the door and then back to her, barking.

“What is it?” He barked again. “Alright, let me put on warmer clothes and you can show me.”

Quickly changing her clothes, she grabbed her coat, beanie, and scarf from the pegs beside the door. Before she left, she walked toward the gun cabinet, unlocked it and retrieved her rifle. She never left home without it or her pistol. After loading it, she stepped outside and locked the door behind her.

“I’m trying,” she called out to him with a chuckle. “When did you become so impatient? If you’re taking me to see a dead animal, you will get no treats.”

She watched as he bounded through the snow and disappeared around a tree. Gretchen stopped to try to see which direction he’d gone but lost him in the snow.

“Lobo!” she called out, then he came out from behind a tree, about thirty yards ahead of her, barking, then disappeared again. She trudged through the snow, then she saw it. A boot on the ground beside the tree.

Her heart raced as she stumbled to the other side of the tree, desperate for the boot not to be attached to a body; living or dead. But as she got closer, her hands flew to her mouth in horror. The man’s shirt was stained with blood, and a thin stream trickled from above his temple. She noticed he wasn’t wearing a coat or hat and shuddered at the thought of him freezing in this harsh weather.

With trembling hands, she approached the motionless figure in the snow. Her heart pounded in her chest as she desperately hoped he was still alive, since snow covered most of his body.

Carefully, she leaned her rifle against the tree and knelt to check for a pulse. Brushing the snow away from him, she felt a pulse and a wave of relief washed over her when she felt a faint but steady beat.

“Sir? Sir, can you hear me?” She lightly shook his shoulder, hoping to rouse him. Looking around at the vast expanse of white, she saw no prints, other than hers and Lobo’s. The man must have been here at least long enough for snow to cover him and any prints he left, but as heavy as it was snowing, that could be mere minutes. She wondered how she would ever manage to get him back to the safety of her cabin. “I have to get you out of this snow.”

She gently tapped his cheek with increasing force, finally eliciting a low moan from him. Startled, she jumped back and landed on her ass in the snow.

“Damn it.” She cursed under her breath as she struggled to pull him into a sitting position. But his heavy body slipped sideways, causing both to sink further into the powdery snow. Searching through his pockets for any form of identification, she came up empty-handed. With no other options, she propped him against the tree, and that was when she saw all the blood from where his head had been lying in the snow.

Sitting back on her heels, Gretchen studied the man’s face. Despite being covered in blood and clinging to life, he was undeniably handsome. But who was he and who could have possibly hurt him?

“I’ll go back and get the toboggan. I can’t use the ATV because he’d get covered in snow pulling him behind it, and I can’t lift him onto it.” She spoke aloud to herself, trying to push away the rising panic in her chest. “Lobo, stay.” She commanded the dog who had been watching her from a safe distance. He whimpered and reluctantly lay down next to the injured stranger.

“Keep him warm, boy. I won’t be long.” With one last look at them, Gretchen picked up her rifle and trudged back toward her cabin as fast as she could.

As she reached the shed, she hurriedly entered and grabbed the toboggan from its place on the wall. She also took a length of rope before rushing back outside, then she ran into the cabin to gather some blankets. When she spotted her sleeping bag, she carried it to the living room and spread it out in front of the fireplace. On the way out the door, she grabbed Lobo’s harness.

After stepping outside, she organized the blankets on the sled and fastened them tightly with the rope. Then she returned to where the man was. As she approached, she couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Lobo curled up on top of him, even though he appeared unconscious. She paused for a moment, considering her next steps. She nudged Lobo off the man and attached the harness to the dog.

With a deep breath, she pulled the toboggan toward the man, rolled him onto his side, and placed the sled against his back. With all her strength, she pushed him until he was lying flat on the sled.

It was bitterly cold outside, so she had to work quickly. The thirty yards distance between her cabin and where the man lay seemed like miles. She covered him with the blankets, tied a rope around his body through the slots meant for holding on, and also tied a section of rope through Lobo’s harness. Then she began pulling the toboggan back to her cabin with the help of Lobo. Throughout their journey, she kept checking on the man to make sure he was still alive.

When they finally reached her porch, she sat on the steps to catch her breath and felt frustrated trying to figure out how to get him inside. Looking at him once more, she muttered under her breath.

“Why couldn’t you be a woman? Or at least a smaller man?” she grumbled.

She walked up the steps and opened the door before returning to him. She gently patted his cheeks again, hoping for any sign of consciousness.

“Sir!” she called out loudly, but there was no response. “Damn it,” she cursed.

Standing over him, she took a deep breath before lightly slapping his face. He groaned in response.

“Sir, please. I need to get you inside. You have to help me,” she pleaded.

He stirred slightly but winced, likely in pain and with a headache from the wound on his head. She’d check on that once she got him inside. Placing her hand on his chest, she gently shook him.

“Please, just help me,” she repeated, shaking him again. “Wake up!” she shouted as she slapped his face hard, relieved when he finally opened his eyes. His pupils were dilated, and she was sure he had a concussion.

“Oh, thank God.” She sighed in relief.

“Am I dead?” he mumbled quietly, but she still heard him.

“No, but you will be if you don’t help me get you into my cabin.”

“Cabin? Where am I?” he asked as he tried to sit up, wincing in pain before lying back down. She stepped over him and leaned closer to him.

“I’ll explain everything once we’re inside. But right now, I need your help to get you there,” she said through gritted teeth. “Help me,” she shouted.

He gingerly touched his head. “Damn woman, don’t yell. My head is killing me.”

“Can you sit up? I’ll help you, but there are three steps we need to climb to get inside.” His teeth were chattering violently.

“I can barely feel my fingers and toes.”

“That’s why I’m trying to get you indoors.”

He nodded weakly. “Okay.”

With effort, he started to pull his right arm out from under the blankets but hissed in a breath. That’s when she noticed that the blood on his shirt started oozing. She slowly pulled his shirt aside to look at the wound.

“Try using your left hand. You have a wound on your right shoulder.”

He nodded and slowly sat upright. When he moved to push himself up, he groaned.

“Oh, my God. It looks like a gunshot.” She had thought the blood on his shirt was from the wound by his temple. She knew head wounds bled more, so she just assumed that’s where it was from. Never assume! She supported him as they made their way to the steps.

“Wait... I think I’m going to be sick,” he groaned, sitting down on one of the steps.

“Just take deep breaths,” she instructed, rubbing his back for a few minutes. “Are you ready?”

“I... I think so.” Gretchen wrapped her arm around his waist and helped him stand. He was significantly taller than her five-foot-six frame, by almost a foot. They finally reached the door. She pushed it open and led him to the sleeping bag on the floor.

Gently lowering him onto the floor next to it, she left momentarily to put away the toboggan before returning to the cabin. After returning, she put her rifle away and began removing her outerwear. She hung them up before entering the living room to find that he hadn’t moved, still shivering uncontrollably. She put a few more logs on the fire, then turned back toward him... and groaned. She needed to get him out of those wet clothes, but it was going to be awkward.

“You’re thirty-seven years old. You’ve seen a naked man before.” Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she approached him and knelt next to him, beginning by removing his boots and wet socks. Peeling off his shirt proved to be difficult; the blood had soaked into the fabric, freezing it in place.

“I’ll clean your wounds after I get these wet clothes off you,” she promised as she gently leaned him forward against her chest. That’s when she noticed the wound on his back and realized that the shot had been through and through, but it was no longer bleeding out the back. “Was that what those gunshots were I heard earlier?” Gretchen murmured, glancing at the graze above his temple. “Who was after you? I hope you’re not a bad person.”

When she moved her hand around the back of his head, to find where it was bleeding from, her hand came away covered in blood.

“Oh, my God!” She leaned his head forward and gently touched where the blood was coming from and felt a gash. She let him lay back down, slowly. That would definitely cause a headache.

She finally managed to remove his shirt but placed it on the sleeping bag to absorb any more blood from his head. Then she laid him down carefully on the floor. As she examined his jeans, she knew she had to get them off to get him warmed up.

“I apologize in advance... but I need to take off your jeans. Hopefully your underwear isn’t wet,” she said with a tinge of doubt, knowing that his jeans were completely soaked, and anything under them would be too. “Shit.”

As she unhooked his belt, Gretchen’s fingers trembled with a mix of fear and urgency. She needed to warm him up before it was too late. She quickly made her way to the bedroom, grabbing blankets to wrap him in once he was undressed. He was still shivering, barely conscious.

With shaking hands, she opened the closet and retrieved three soft blankets. She hurried to the kitchen and placed two of them in the dryer. She turned it on low, then returned to the man. Taking a deep breath before attempting to undress him.