Chapter Thirteen
Lolly put the envelope in her purse along with the small pistol she always carried. She was indeed her father’s daughter, she told herself. Not that she was planning on shooting anyone unless she had to.
Now as she drove, she glanced at her purse, unable to stop thinking about the envelope inside.
She had considered opening it the moment she was out of sight of the ranch.
Wasn’t that the smart thing to do? She deserved to know what was going on.
Wasn’t it her right since her father had involved her?
Donovan should be worried. No matter what his deal was with her father, he shouldn’t have taken off like he had. Leaving her in the middle of the night without a word hadn’t been the smart thing to do to her.
She drove a little faster, anxious to get to Dry Gulch and get this over with, whatever it was.
She was dying to know what the message said.
But if she tore open the envelope, her father would ask Donovan, and he would probably tell Malcolm Mandeville the truth.
Men tended to do that with her powerful father.
It bothered her, her father’s interest in Donovan. She worried it had something to do with the baby she was carrying. If her father believed it was Donovan’s, what would he do with the man? Surely not kill him.
She couldn’t believe that she’d planned to use Donovan as cover once her pregnancy started to show more.
She’d even considered lying to him and letting him believe the baby was his.
But it would have been a hard sell and Donovan was too smart for it.
No, but she could have either offered him money or told him if he didn’t do what she asked, she’d have her daddy kill him.
Not that she would have, she told herself as she crossed the border into Montana. Right before she’d left, she found Luca putting the town of Dry Gulch in her navigation system and her father standing on the front steps of the ranch house watching him do it.
“I figure you can find your way home once you’re done,” her father said, not taking his eyes off Luca sitting in the driver’s seat of her SUV.
She had heard something in his voice that made her wonder if he hadn’t already figured out that Luca might be planning to double-cross him. Her father hadn’t gotten to where he was by being na?ve. But it would appear they were both planning to use Donovan.
She groaned inwardly as she walked down to her SUV, Luca getting out and stepping aside to let her slide behind the wheel. Even if her father knew she was pregnant, there was more going on here. She could feel it.
But that didn’t mean her father wouldn’t force Donovan to come back to Wyoming to marry her if he thought the baby was his. She couldn’t let that happen—even if it meant telling the truth. The last thing she wanted was a husband.
Just a few more miles to Dry Gulch, she told herself, suddenly leery of what was inside the envelope and how Donovan was going to take the news.
MAX SNUGGED DOWN his Stetson, his mind clear for the first time since that damned red sports car had roared into Dry Gulch.
Donovan Cole had distracted him and now he wondered if that hadn’t been the point.
He’d been so worried about Goldie and her feelings for the man that he hadn’t been thinking like the sheriff he was.
But he was finally thinking straight this morning.
“Going to take my walk,” he said to his deputy and the dispatcher as he headed for the front door.
The town was quiet as usual. He would have loved to have taken credit for the lack of crime in this county.
But with more cows than people, more open ranch and farmland than towns, there wasn’t much going on.
This part of the state had seen just the opposite of growth after the pandemic.
More populated, prettier parts of the state had grown by leaps and bounds as people from big cities came looking for a piece of paradise.
Dry Gulch wasn’t near any of that growth.
Instead, the elderly population was dying off or moving on, often unable to talk their children into taking over the farm or ranch.
The land had been picked up by neighbors as the population dropped.
The only bright spot in Dry Gulch’s future was the resort his brother was building.
Something Cordell had said now had him thinking like the law again.
He’d been confused about why Malcolm Mandeville would have any interest in this town.
What could a major crime boss want with this small Western town?
Yet two people connected to Mandeville were now in town, one apparently after Goldie.
Pushing that disagreeable thought away, he concentrated on Arnie Adams as he walked. Arnie had the criminal background, he’d been employed by Malcolm as a chef until recently and he didn’t have the kind of money he’d come up with to buy the café outright. Mandeville had to be behind it.
Why was the crime boss interested in the café?
In the alley, Max tried the back door of Goldie’s. Locked. He knocked, then knocked harder. He put his ear to the door. He heard a racket that sounded like it was coming from the basement. Jackhammers? He felt his pulse quicken. What kind of remodeling were they doing down there?
He knocked again and listened. If there had been using jackhammers they now stopped, but he could hear movement inside.
No one answered his knock. He walked around front and tried the door, knowing it too would be locked.
He tried to see through the smeared soap covering the windows.
Nothing. He banged on the door, receiving the same response he’d gotten at the back door.
As he started to turn away, he saw Arnie come out of the hotel. The man spotted him and hesitated for an instant before continuing on across the street toward him.
“Sheriff,” Arnie said. “Curious about what I’m doing with the café?”
“Now that you mention it, I am.”
The new owner chuckled. “You and the rest of the town, but I’m afraid you’re going to have to wait like everyone else. Unless of course you have a warrant, but then why would you?”
Max chuckled too. “Yes, why would I need one? All you’re doing is remodeling the café.
” Malcolm Mandeville’s fingerprints were all over whatever was going on.
Max could feel it and he could think of only one reason the crime boss would be interested in Dry Gulch, Montana.
The man had something to gain. But how could buying a diner in the heart of the small, isolated town benefit him?
It had to be the bank next door. Legally he couldn’t demand to see what renovations were being done. But it wouldn’t hurt to ask, he told himself.
“Awfully noisy at the café,” he said. “What kind of renovations are you doing in the basement?”
“I’m sorry,” Arnie said. “Has there been a complaint?”
The sheriff shook his head. “Sounds like your crew is using jackhammers.”
“Old building. I’m taking out some of the old foundation and replacing it. Making some other changes. The place hadn’t been updated in years,” Arnie was saying.
Max couldn’t help but bristle, since the man made it sound as if Goldie hadn’t taken good care of her café. “I’m sure it’s more of a case of you putting your stamp on it.”
“There’s that too of course. Is that a problem?”
He shook his head and chuckled. “No, but all that noise your crew is making, it crossed my mind you might be making a tunnel to the bank next door.”
Arnie laughed. “Right in front of the local law’s nose?” He shook his head, his gaze avoiding the sheriff’s. “That would be foolish, now, wouldn’t it?”
“Or smart.”
“No, Sheriff,” the man said with a sigh.
“I have no desire to go back to prison. I’m sure you’re aware of my criminal record.
I came to Dry Gulch for a fresh start. I’d always dreamed of having my own diner.
I’ve been told that I’m a pretty good cook.
I’ll be doing some hiring if there are any locals interested.
I’ll need an assistant cook and a couple of waitresses. I expect the place to be busy.”
The sheriff wondered about that. He had his doubts that the café would ever open—let alone employ several locals—but still he played along.
“Clancy Roberts has waitressed at Goldie’s since she was a teenager.
Might ask her. As for a cook, Ronnie Dean’s young, but he learned a lot while working at the café.
He’s been working over at the hotel. Clancy was out of town, but I heard she’s back.
I guess it will depend on how much you’re willing to pay to get them to work at your café. When are you planning on opening?”
“That’s part of the surprise,” Arnie said.
“You know how construction goes, it’s often hard to tell when it will get done.
If you’ll excuse me, I need to check and see how things are going.
Have a good day, Sheriff.” He turned and walked around the side of the building through the alley as if headed to the back door of the café.
Max watched him go, his intuition telling him Arnie was cooking up something in the café and it didn’t involve food.
DONOVAN HAD BEEN mentally kicking himself all day for turning Goldie down on the hillside yesterday. What had he been thinking? Unfortunately, he knew. He liked her. He genuinely wanted to help her. Having sex with him wasn’t really what she wanted even though he wished she did.
Instead, she had wanted to end their agreement.
While that was probably for the best since the fool sheriff didn’t appear to be weakening, Donovan didn’t want that.
He feared that Goldie had inadvertently gotten herself involved in something dangerous by selling her café.
He didn’t know what, but with Malcolm involved…