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Authors: B. J. Daniels
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“All this seasonal help around here, the woman didn’t have to be a local,” Harlan said. “She could have been working in the canyon for the summer or even at the ski hill for the winter.”
“Wouldn’t someone have missed her, though?” Dana said, noticing her father was nursing his beer and saying little.
Harlan shrugged. “If she had family. If her family knew where she’d gone to in the first place. You know how these kids are who show up for the seasonal employment. Most move on within a few weeks. Could have been a runaway even. Wasn’t there some bones found in the canyon a few years ago and they never did find out who that guy was?”
She nodded. Theother remains that had been found were male and no identification had ever been made. Was the same thing going to happen with the woman’s bones from the well?
She started to ask her father about his .38, but changed her mind. “You all right?” she asked her father.
Angus smiled and tossed his now empty beer bottle into the trash. “Fine, baby girl. I just hate to see you upset over this. How about I buy you a drink to celebrate your birthday and we talk about something else?” he asked as he opened the door to the bar. The blare of the jukebox swept in along with a blue haze of smoke and the smell of burgers and beer.
Dana met his gaze. His eyes were shiny with alcohol and something else. Whatever he was hiding, he was keeping it to himself whether she liked it or not.
“Maybe some other time,” she said. “I have a date tonight.”
“I heard Hud was back,” he said, and grinned at her.
“I’m not with Hud, Dad.” How many times did she have to tell him that she was never getting back together with Hud? “Lanny’s taking me out to dinner for my birthday.”
“Oh,” Angus said. He’d never been fond of Lanny Rankin and she’d never understood why. All her father had ever said was, “I just don’t think he’s the right man for you.”
A T THE LAW and justicecenter, Hud sat with the file on the Judge Raymond Randolph killing, still haunted by that night. Most of the night was nothing but a black hole in his memory. He couldn’t account for too many hours and had spent years trying to remember what he’d done that night.
He shook his head. It was one of the questions he was bound and determined to get answered now that he was back in Montana.
How strange that his first case as acting Gallatin Canyon marshal was tied to that night. Coincidence? He had to wonder.
He opened the file. Since he’d left town right after the judge’s death, he knew little about the case.
The first thing that hit him was the sight of his father’s notes neatly printed on sheets of eight-and-a-half-by-eleven, lined white paper. Brick Savage had never learned to type.
Hud felt a chill at just the sight of his father’s neat printing, the writing short and to the point.
The judge had been at his annual Toastmasters dinner; his wife, Katherine “Kitty” Randolph, was away visiting her sister in Butte. The judge had returned home early, reason unknown, and was believed to have interrupted an alleged robbery in progress. He was shot twice, point-blank in the heart with a .38-caliber pistol.
A neighbor heard the shots and called the sheriff’s department. A young new deputy by the name of Hudson Savage was on duty that night. But when he couldn’t be reached, Marshal Brick Savage took the call.
Hud felt his handsbegin to shake. He’d known he was going to have to face that night again when he’d come back, but seeing it in black and white rattled him more than he wanted to admit.
Brick reported that as he neared the Randolph house, he spotted two suspects fleeing the residence. He gave chase. The high-speed chase ended near what was known as the 35-mile-an-hour curve, one of the worst curves in the winding canyon road because it ended in a bridge and other curve in the opposite direction.
The suspect driving the car lost control
“All this seasonal help around here, the woman didn’t have to be a local,” Harlan said. “She could have been working in the canyon for the summer or even at the ski hill for the winter.”
“Wouldn’t someone have missed her, though?” Dana said, noticing her father was nursing his beer and saying little.
Harlan shrugged. “If she had family. If her family knew where she’d gone to in the first place. You know how these kids are who show up for the seasonal employment. Most move on within a few weeks. Could have been a runaway even. Wasn’t there some bones found in the canyon a few years ago and they never did find out who that guy was?”
She nodded. Theother remains that had been found were male and no identification had ever been made. Was the same thing going to happen with the woman’s bones from the well?
She started to ask her father about his .38, but changed her mind. “You all right?” she asked her father.
Angus smiled and tossed his now empty beer bottle into the trash. “Fine, baby girl. I just hate to see you upset over this. How about I buy you a drink to celebrate your birthday and we talk about something else?” he asked as he opened the door to the bar. The blare of the jukebox swept in along with a blue haze of smoke and the smell of burgers and beer.
Dana met his gaze. His eyes were shiny with alcohol and something else. Whatever he was hiding, he was keeping it to himself whether she liked it or not.
“Maybe some other time,” she said. “I have a date tonight.”
“I heard Hud was back,” he said, and grinned at her.
“I’m not with Hud, Dad.” How many times did she have to tell him that she was never getting back together with Hud? “Lanny’s taking me out to dinner for my birthday.”
“Oh,” Angus said. He’d never been fond of Lanny Rankin and she’d never understood why. All her father had ever said was, “I just don’t think he’s the right man for you.”
A T THE LAW and justicecenter, Hud sat with the file on the Judge Raymond Randolph killing, still haunted by that night. Most of the night was nothing but a black hole in his memory. He couldn’t account for too many hours and had spent years trying to remember what he’d done that night.
He shook his head. It was one of the questions he was bound and determined to get answered now that he was back in Montana.
How strange that his first case as acting Gallatin Canyon marshal was tied to that night. Coincidence? He had to wonder.
He opened the file. Since he’d left town right after the judge’s death, he knew little about the case.
The first thing that hit him was the sight of his father’s notes neatly printed on sheets of eight-and-a-half-by-eleven, lined white paper. Brick Savage had never learned to type.
Hud felt a chill at just the sight of his father’s neat printing, the writing short and to the point.
The judge had been at his annual Toastmasters dinner; his wife, Katherine “Kitty” Randolph, was away visiting her sister in Butte. The judge had returned home early, reason unknown, and was believed to have interrupted an alleged robbery in progress. He was shot twice, point-blank in the heart with a .38-caliber pistol.
A neighbor heard the shots and called the sheriff’s department. A young new deputy by the name of Hudson Savage was on duty that night. But when he couldn’t be reached, Marshal Brick Savage took the call.
Hud felt his handsbegin to shake. He’d known he was going to have to face that night again when he’d come back, but seeing it in black and white rattled him more than he wanted to admit.
Brick reported that as he neared the Randolph house, he spotted two suspects fleeing the residence. He gave chase. The high-speed chase ended near what was known as the 35-mile-an-hour curve, one of the worst curves in the winding canyon road because it ended in a bridge and other curve in the opposite direction.
The suspect driving the car lost control
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