Lucky Shot. B.J. Daniels

      He couldn’t contain his excitement. The question was who would want the photos badly enough to start the bidding.

      Big Timber Java had great coffee—and free Wi-Fi. He opened his laptop, took a sip of his coffee and uploaded his photos.

      An older woman came in, a local who seemed to know everyone in town. After she settled in, he approached her table and showed her the photo he’d taken of the man in the pickup—the one who’d brought Sarah Hamilton out to the creek to meet the senator.

      “I was taking a photo of a doe down by the creek early this morning, and this truck and driver drove by just as I took the shot,” he said chuckling. “I thought you might know him.”

      She squinted at the photo on his laptop for a moment. “That’s Russell Murdock. He has a ranch outside of Beartooth. Used to work for W. T. Grant. Russell had to be a saint to work for that man.”

      “I figure he owes me a beer since he ruined my shot,” Max joked.

      “I’m sure he didn’t mean to,” the woman said cheerfully. “Russell is a sweetheart.” She took a good look at him then, eyes narrowing. “Are you one of those journalists in town?” Immediately she didn’t seem as friendly.

      “Amateur photographer.” That much was true enough.

      She seemed to relax. “Well, I think it is a fine shot of Russell. Did you get one of the deer?”

      He shook his head. “The truck scared the deer away.”

      “Too bad. We have several fine photographers in the area.” She rattled off three or four names. “Sometimes they offer classes.” Only one name caught his attention.

      “Kat Hamilton? Any relation to—”

      “Senator Buckmaster Hamilton?” She nodded. “One of his daughters. I’ve heard she’s quite talented.”

      “I’m sorry, your coffee is getting cold because of me. May I buy you another cup?”

      She declined, said she was meeting her granddaughter and had to go anyway. “It was nice visiting with you. Maybe I’ll see some more of your photographs one of these days in a gallery.”

      “Maybe,” he said, hoping more for the front page of a nationally syndicated newspaper.

      * * *

      RUSSELL MURDOCK HADN’T been looking forward to telling his daughter that he’d asked Sarah Hamilton to marry him. He was no fool. He knew Destry would be shocked—just as everyone else in the county would be once it was announced. He’d expected the arguments Destry would make. What he hadn’t anticipated was how upset she would be.

      “You can’t be serious!” Destry West spun away from him, turning her back as she stormed into the kitchen. He followed her, seeing her shake as she poured herself a mug of coffee and cupped it in her two hands. It didn’t stop her trembling as she turned to him again. “Sarah Hamilton? Have you lost your mind?”

      He tried to find the words to explain how he’d felt from the moment she’d stumbled out of the trees and in front of his pickup. Fortunately, he’d gotten the truck stopped in time. But when he’d leaped out and seen her face... Well, it was like seeing a ghost. He’d been to her memorial service twenty-two years ago.

      “You know I’ve been looking out for her since her return,” he said as calmly as he could. He needed his daughter to understand. “I fell in love with her.”

      Destry shook her head, looking at him as if in amazement. “Sarah Hamilton? Doesn’t it bother you in the least that her return is surrounded by mystery— let alone her past?”

      “She has amnesia. She’s not crazy.”

      His daughter cocked her head at him. “Really? How can you be sure? She doesn’t know where she’s been for the past twenty-two years? Dad!” The word came out a plea.

      Sarah had tried to warn him that his daughter would be upset. “Why wouldn’t she, Russell? Like everyone else in the world, she’s heard the stories about me.”

      “Once she gets to know you—”

      “Please, Russell. Let’s give it a couple more months before we announce.”

      “Is this Buckmaster Hamilton’s doing?” He’d demanded, even though he could tell by her expression that it was.

      “He will take a short break soon and come home,” she’d argued. “He wants to be here for our daughters when you and I announce our engagement. That isn’t too much to ask, is it?”

      All he’d been able to do was shake his head. “If I were a suspicious man I might question if you were sincere about wanting to marry me or if this was just a ploy to win your husband back.”

      Sarah had stepped to him and kissed him. “You know better than that. I’m nothing but a liability to Buck.”

      He hadn’t been convinced. “Because if he left his wife and came back to you, it would hurt his political career. But if Angelina wasn’t in the picture—”

      She shook her head. “Maybe you’re right, and he did something so horrible that I drove my car into the Yellowstone River that winter night so many years ago. Maybe I’ll never know the truth. But, for whatever reason, I see no future for me and Buck.”

      Russell had taken her in his arms and held her, praying it was true but knowing Sarah still loved the man. If Buckmaster were free—

      Fortunately, Buckmaster wasn’t free. Not only was he married to Angelina Broadwater Hamilton, but also he was wed to the idea of being the next president of the United States. Which meant Sarah was inconvenient. A liability, just as she’d said.

      Russell was determined to give Sarah the life she deserved. “I understand why you’re upset,” he said now to his daughter. “Destry, I’ve gotten to know this woman. For her to leave her children like that...well, she had a good reason, just as there is a very good reason why she can’t remember.”

      He didn’t dare tell her about his theory that Sarah’s brain had been wiped clean of the memories because Senator Buckmaster Hamilton didn’t want her to remember. “She’s the victim here, sweetheart.”

      Destry shook her head. “Are you sure you aren’t just making excuses for her?”

      Maybe he was. Late at night sometimes, he argued the same case with himself. He knew things about Sarah that would horrify his daughter. Like the way Sarah had returned to Beartooth. She’d parachuted from a plane at low altitude. She had no memory of it, but he was convinced that whoever was behind her memory loss was using her. If he had to name that person, it would be Senator Buckmaster Hamilton.

      Since Sarah’s supposedly untimely return, his standings in the presidential race had only improved tenfold. He was a shoo-in for the Republican nomination now. His allegedly “crazy” first wife had taken a beating in the press, while Buckmaster had garnered all the sympathy.

      “I just need you to trust me on this,” he said, stepping to his daughter. Destry hadn’t known that he’d fathered her until a few years ago. He’d worked as ranch manager at the W Bar G Ranch, so he’d seen her grow up. She’d always come to him with her problems instead of the man she believed to be her father, W. T. Grant. Russel and his wife, Judy, had never had any children. But now with her gone, he was lonely. He saw Destry and his grandchildren as often as he could, but it wasn’t the same as having a partner to share the rest of his life with.

      “I want to get on with my life. Can you wish me well?”

      Destry searched his gaze for a long moment. “I know you’ve been lonely since you lost Judy, and I can even understand how you might have fallen for this woman, but are you sure you want Sarah Hamilton around your grandchildren? Think about that, Dad.”

      * * *

      “YOUR DAUGHTERS HAVE been in my