Rugged Defender. B.J. Daniels

rocking the metal container holding the faded plastic flowers on the grave next to Drew’s. He looked over at the headstone and felt the weight of his guilt. Pushing to his feet, he moved to his wife’s graveside.

      Mary Harris Calhoun

      May 11, 1954–December 21, 2002

      Losing her so young had made him hold on even tighter to Drew, since Drew resembled her the most. Now he was just glad she hadn’t been around to see what had become of the family she’d loved so much. He knew how disappointed she would be in him. No more than he was in himself.

      The promise was on his lips, but he couldn’t bring himself to voice it. It wasn’t the promise Mary would have wanted to hear. But it was the promise he’d made since Drew’s murder five years ago this month. He would see that their oldest son’s killer was brought to justice—one way or another.

      But he hadn’t been able to do even that.

      The promise Mary wanted was one he couldn’t even bring himself to utter let alone make happen even for her. Each time he came here, he could hear her as if she spoke from the grave.

       Bring our son home. Make amends for what you’ve done.

      Just the thought of his youngest son, Justin, doubled him over. When he closed his eyes, he saw Justin standing over his brother, the gun in his hand.

      Hot tears ran down his cheeks. He felt even more guilt because his tears were for himself, and Mary knew it. From her grave, she blamed him as if he was the one who had pulled the trigger and ended Drew’s life.

      He shook his head. He wanted justice like his next breath. But some days he wasn’t sure what justice would look like. Maybe he was already getting it and this was his punishment for the mistakes he’d made.

      And yet he couldn’t let go of what he felt in his heart. Justin had killed his brother. It felt like the truth, one that ate at him, fueled by his grief and his guilt.

      He brushed at his tears now freezing to his cheeks and rose. He didn’t need Mary to tell him the part he’d played in this tragedy. He’d always loved Drew more and everyone knew it—including Justin. And this was the price he paid.

      No, not even after five years could he promise Mary that he would make things right with Justin. Not as long as he believed his youngest son was a killer.

       Chapter Two

      The moment they walked into the local soup kitchen, Chloe spotted Nicole Kent and groaned. “What is she doing here?” she whispered to her sisters.

      “Apparently arguing with Edna,” Annabelle said. “Edna Kirkland is the kitchen supervisor. Do not argue with her.”

      Chloe had no desire to argue with anyone, especially the large woman who was towering over Justin’s old girlfriend, Nici.

      Nici held up what appeared to be a hairnet and said in a strident voice, “I’m not wearing this.” She was still short and cute in a rough sort of way with dyed black hair cut in a pixie that suited her.

      Edna crossed her arms over her abundant chest and narrowed her eyes. “You’ll wear it or I’ll call the sheriff and have you thrown in jail.” She smiled. “Your choice. Community service or jail. Those are your only options.”

      “No one mentioned I had to wear a hairnet.” Nici cursed again before going into the restroom and slamming the door.

      “Community service,” TJ whispered. “I wonder what she did.”

      “You three come here to chat or to work?” Edna barked from across the room.

      “Work,” Annabelle said quickly and hurried forward to be handed a hairnet and a soup ladle.

      “We’re about to open,” the supervisor said. “You,” she said pointing at TJ. “You’re in charge of buns and you,” she said pointing at Chloe, “you’ll be helping run dishes. When we run out of soup, we all help clean up this place. Is that understood?”

      “Perfectly,” Chloe and TJ said in unison as Nici came out of the bathroom.

      “And you,” Edna said. “You’re going straight to the dish room and start cleaning. And,” she said as Nici started to complain, “if you say one word, I’m calling the sheriff.”

      “Jail looks good right now,” the young woman said under her breath as she walked past Chloe and then did a double take. Edna had gone to open the doors. “What are you doing here?” Nici demanded of Chloe.

      “We always helped at the soup kitchen with our grandmother.”

      “No, what are you doing in Whitehorse?”

      “Spending time with my sisters over the holidays.” Chloe wondered why she was answering Nici’s rude questions. It was just such a surprise seeing her here.

      “So you aren’t staying,” Nici said.

      “Nicole Kent, you’ve got two seconds to get into the dish room,” Edna called and Nici scooted off after an eye roll and a curse.

      “Charming,” TJ said as she pulled on her hairnet and the plastic gloves she would be wearing while handing out buns.

      “I never understood what Justin saw in her,” Annabelle said.

      Chloe watched her go into the dish room. “They were a lot alike. Both on the outside looking in.”

      “Alike? Nici from one of the poorest families and Justin from one of the wealthiest? He comes from one of the largest ranches around here,” Annabelle said. “His family was rich compared to most and his father still is.”

      “I doubt Bert Calhoun would feel that way,” TJ said. “He lost his wife at a young age and apparently now he’s lost both sons.”

      “You know what I mean,” Annabelle said. “Wealth-wise.”

      “But Justin always felt as if he didn’t matter,” Chloe said. “I would imagine Nici felt the same way.”

      Edna began barking orders so they went to work, but Chloe couldn’t help thinking about Justin and what she’d learned had happened to him and his family after she’d left. She knew that he and his older brother hadn’t gotten along, but she refused to believe Justin had anything to do with Drew’s death.

      * * *

      IT DIDN’T TAKE Justin long to pack. Quitting his job hadn’t been that hard either. Saddle tramps like him were a dime a dozen. The rancher would be able to pick up help easily before calving season when he really would need it.

      After throwing everything into his pickup, he slid behind the wheel wondering why he hadn’t done this sooner. The reason was staring him in the face. He hadn’t wanted to know the truth about his brother’s death. It had been easier to run away.

      He sighed as he started the truck and pointed it west. Why now? It was the question that had been nagging at him all morning. Tell me this isn’t about some kiss that was so long ago it was like another world.

      Justin laughed to himself as he left the dirt road and hit the two-lane blacktop. Hearing Chloe’s voice had brought it all back. Those few weeks of happiness before his life had gone to hell in a handbasket. Maybe he was trying to relive those moments—as crazy as it sounded. He was too much of a realist to think he could.

      But he’d been hiding out from the past for too long. He was going home—to all that entailed. Just the thought of seeing his father set his teeth on edge. But he was no longer afraid of the past. It was the truth that woke him in a cold sweat in the middle of the night. What had happened the day his brother was killed?

      * * *

      “GRANDMOTHER WOULD BE so proud,” Annabelle said as they tossed their hairnets in the trash, pulled