Where the Trail Ends (Otter Creek Series #3)

Chapter 1

Jewel stood at Susan’s kitchen window, watching the long driveway for the third time in as many minutes.

Her fingers tapped nervously against the countertop, a rhythm she couldn’t quite control.

In the living room behind her, Susan was rearranging the same set of throw pillows for the fourth time since she’d arrived.

“Do you think he’ll remember where the spare key is, or should I just leave the front door unlocked?” Susan’s voice had that thin, brittle quality that came from too little sleep and too much worry.

Cole looked up from his spot at the kitchen table, holding a cup of coffee. “He won’t need the spare key, Mom. We’re all here waiting for him.”

“I know, I know. I just…” Susan smoothed her hands down the front of her light blue cardigan. “It’s been so long since he’s stayed in this house. He hasn’t slept here since before your father and I divorced. I keep thinking I should’ve cleaned more or maybe cooked him something.”

Jewel turned from the window to give Susan a reassuring smile. “The house looks perfect, and you made that coffee cake this morning. Which smells amazing, by the way.”

The older woman’s hands stilled, and she gave a small nod. “You’re right. I’m being ridiculous, aren’t I?”

She shook her head gently. “No, you’re nervous. And that’s allowed.”

Jewel moved from the kitchen to the living room to check on Beckett, who was sprawled on the floor with his collection of plastic horses, completely unaware of the tension filling the space.

As she looked down at him, she envied his innocence and how he could lose himself so completely in play, oblivious to the tension and buried resentments surrounding him.

Behind her, she could feel Cole’s gaze on her. In fact, she’d been sensing it on and off for the past four days, ever since that night on the back deck. Ever since she’d confronted him about Trevor.

“You knew about Trevor. You’ve known the whole time.”

His explanation had come in a rush of words, his voice rough with shame and perhaps fear.

He admitted to knowing about the affair.

He knew Trevor had come back in town, about the visits, the hospital bedside vigil.

All of it. And he’d kept it from everyone, including her, because he was terrified that if the police found out, they would think he had a motive.

Then, even more terrified that she might think he had a motive.

He was worried that admitting he knew about Vivian’s affair would make him appear guilty of something he swore he hadn’t done.

“I didn’t hurt her, Jewel. I swear to God I didn’t hurt her. But if people knew I’d found out about Trevor, that I’d confronted her about the affair, and that we’d argued about her wanting to leave, they’d never believe me. You’d never believe me.”

The truth was, she wanted to believe him. God, how badly she wanted to believe him. Because the idea that he was lying, that he had done something to Vivian, and that she was falling for a man who could be dangerous, was too terrible to face.

Unfortunately, trust once broken didn’t heal easily. The harsh truth remained that he had lied to her. He had watched her investigate, let her dig and search, and put herself at risk, all while keeping the full truth locked away.

Four days ago, after she’d confronted him, she was prepared to walk away. Ready to pack her bags, load up Sundancer, and create as much distance as possible between herself and Cole Blackwell.

But then they received the call that Susan’s surgery was scheduled for four days from now. His mother had looked at her with those hopeful, desperate eyes and asked her to stay. Just through the surgery. Just through the recovery.

Just a little longer.

And later, Beckett had climbed into her lap and whispered, “You’re not leaving, are you, Jewel? Not like Mommy did?”

So, she stayed. How could she not? But the easy warmth that had been building between them, the almost-touches and lingering looks, the memory of the kiss that still made her skin hum, had frozen over.

They moved around each other like polite strangers sharing space. Careful. Distant. And painfully civil.

Beckett’s voice cut through her thoughts. He’d abandoned his horses and pressed his face against the window. “I see a truck! Is that Uncle Conrad?”

Cole stood from his chair and moved to stand beside his son. She watched as his shoulders tensed and the muscle in his jaw started to work. Whatever complicated history there was between the Blackwell brothers clearly hadn’t been resolved by Conrad’s agreement to help the family during surgery.

When he answered his son, his voice stayed carefully neutral. “Yeah, buddy. That’s him.”

Susan smoothed down her cardigan again, her fingers trembling slightly. “Should I go outside? Or wait here? What’s the protocol for—oh, I’m being ridiculous again, aren’t I?”

“You’re fine, Mom.” But Cole’s attention was fixed on the approaching truck, and she could see the exact moment confusion crossed his features. “Is that… Why are there three people in the cab?”

Jewel moved to the window, squinting against the afternoon sun. Sure enough, the extended cab truck pulling up the driveway held Conrad and two other passengers. As it rolled to a stop in front of the house, she could see a woman in the front seat and what looked like a child in the back.

“He brought his family? He didn’t mention…I mean, I didn’t think—” Susan’s voice rose slightly.

The driver’s door opened, and Conrad stepped out.

He was taller than Cole by an inch or two, with a build that was similar but somehow more rugged, as if carved from something tougher than flesh and bone.

His sandy blond hair was a bit darker than his brother’s, and his blue eyes lacked the vividness of Cole’s, giving him a cooler, more reserved outlook on the world.

For a moment, he just stood still, one hand still on the truck door, his gaze shifting from the house to the passenger side where the woman was climbing out.

Even from this distance, she could see the tension in his posture. The way his face was set. The slight shake of his head that his passenger, presumably his wife, either didn’t see or chose to ignore.

“Well, I suppose I should’ve made more coffee cake.” Susan’s voice was so faint that Jewel barely heard it.

The woman emerging from the passenger side was not what Jewel had expected.

There were no designer jeans or perfectly styled hair.

Instead, she wore worn-out Wranglers, scuffed work boots, and a simple flannel shirt, sleeves rolled up to show her tanned, muscular forearms. Her light brown hair was pulled back in a practical ponytail, and even from a distance, there was something genuine about the way she moved.

Efficient and confident, like someone who spent her days actually working rather than overseeing others’ work.

It had to be Sylvie, Conrad’s wife.

The woman moved gracefully around the truck, opening the back door to help a young girl climb out. The child appeared to be about six or seven, with long legs and sandy blond curls, dressed in jeans and boots that had clearly seen heavy use in a barn.

“Daddy, can I go look at the horses?” Her bright and eager voice rang across the yard.

Conrad’s response was too quiet to hear, but whatever he said made his wife’s expression tighten. She placed a hand on his arm, saying something that made his shoulders go rigid.

Jewel could hear Cole muttering under his breath, “Here we go.”

“Be nice. They came all this way to help,” Susan warned him.

Cole moved toward the door. “She wasn’t supposed to come. He was supposed to come alone, help with the surgery, and then go back to Texas. That was the plan.”

She could see the tension radiating off him and fought the urge to touch his arm. “Sometimes plans change.”

“Not with Conrad, they don’t. Not unless someone forces them to change.” He pushed through the door onto the porch, with Jewel and Susan close behind.

Beckett had already darted ahead, his natural enthusiasm overriding any adult tension crackling in the air. “Uncle Conrad!” He confidently threw himself at him, like a child who had no doubt about his uncle’s affection.

Catching him easily in a bear hug, Conrad’s stern expression softened just a little. “Hey there, Beck. You’ve gotten bigger since I’ve been gone.”

“I’m almost four, Uncle Conrad. I can ride Cookie Monster on the trail all by myself. I took him to Grandma’s house with Jewel. Daddy says you’re here to help Grandma get better.”

“That’s the plan, bud.” He set Beckett down, his eyes shifting past the boy to Cole, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavily between them. “Cole.”

“Conrad.” Cole’s response was just as flat. Then his gaze shifted to Sylvie, and his expression softened a little. “Hey, Sylvie. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

The woman stepped forward, and as she reached out to hug Cole, the genuine warmth in her smile was obvious. “Yeah, well, your brother actually thought he could sneak away for three weeks without me noticing. I had to set him straight on that.”

Despite the tension still visible in his shoulders, Cole returned the hug. “It’s good to see you again.”

Sylvie pulled back, her hazel eyes assessing him with the kind of directness that comes from years of dealing with stubborn men and ornery livestock. “You too. But you look tired.”

“It’s been a rough few months.”

“I bet.” Sylvie turned her attention to Susan, extending her hand without any hesitation or awkwardness that some daughters-in-law might show. “Mrs. Blackwell, I’m Sylvie. I’m sorry we’re only just now meeting, and I’m very sorry it’s under these circumstances, but I’m glad we could be here.”

Susan’s expression instantly changed to relief and pleasure. “And I’m so glad you came. Please, call me Susan. And this must be Della?”