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Promise from a Cowboy
C.J. Carmichael
On the rodeo circuit, B.J. Lambert had plenty of chances to forget about his first love.Back in Coffee Creek, it’s impossible. Savannah Moody is as irresistible to B.J. as when they were teens. He’d still do anything for her—except give up the secret he promised to keep. Sheriff Savannah Moody knows B.J. is hiding something. Not his feelings for her—it’s obvious to both of them that the attraction is as strong as ever.But she simply can’t afford to give in. She has her sister to care for, and the family land, and B.J. might be gone tomorrow. She also has a job to do: to pursue the truth and discover what really happened eighteen years ago when a barn burned and man died. Even if it costs her dearly. . . .
A Cowboy With Something To Hide…
On the rodeo circuit, B. J. Lambert had plenty of chances to forget about his first love. Back in Coffee Creek, it’s impossible. Savannah Moody is as irresistible to B.J. as when they were teens. He’d still do anything for her—except give up the secret he promised to keep.
Sheriff Savannah Moody knows B.J. is hiding something. Not his feelings for her—it’s obvious to both of them that the attraction is as strong as ever. But she simply can’t afford to give in. She has her sister to care for, and the family land, and B.J. might be gone tomorrow. She also has a job to do: to pursue the truth and discover what really happened eighteen years ago when a barn burned and a man died. Even if it costs her dearly….
“Could we find someplace quiet to talk?”
B.J. thought about his trailer. Too small, too intimate. “I could stand some food. Want to go out for a steak?”
She hesitated, and he could see the mistrust in her eyes. Even after all these years, it hurt.
She blamed him for what had happened to Hunter. Always a kid who invited trouble, he’d gone even more wild after the fire. He’d given up on school, found a rougher set of friends and two months later, on his and Savannah’s eighteenth birthday, had stolen money from their mother and run off to his first rodeo.
Since then he’d been traveling from one state to the other, always on the move.
On the surface—and to Savannah—it probably seemed like the two of them lived pretty similar lives. But the heavy drinking and gambling that sucked up most of Hunter’s energy was not B.J.’s scene.
“My truck is parked close.” She pointed to the visitor lot. “How about we talk there?”
Though she worded it as a question, she didn’t wait for him to answer—just started walking as if she expected him to follow.
Dear Reader,
Welcome back to Coffee Creek, Montana, where the Lamberts—a family of ranchers and cowboys—own the largest spread in Bitterroot County, all controlled by matriarch Olive Lambert. Why don’t you start by grabbing a sticky bun and coffee from the Cinnamon Stick Café? Winnie and her new baby still haven’t returned to town, but don’t worry—they soon will. And Jackson Stone will be waiting. Watch for their story in the final installment in this series, coming this October.
In the meantime, you might want to take your coffee out behind the café and enjoy the view of the creek for which the town was named. See that topaz-colored water? That’s why they call it Coffee Creek.
When you’re all done your snack, walk by the Court House, where the Sheriff’s Office is located. I suppose you’ve heard about Savannah Moody, the new sheriff? Her father was an alcoholic and gambler who lost the family’s fortune before passing away from liver disease. Her mother is in the Mountain View Care Home.
Now Savannah’s life is about to become a lot more complicated. Her first love, B. J. Lambert, is back in town. He’s done with the rodeo and ready to settle down. He’s thinking it might be with her. But there’s a little problem called “the past” that must be dealt with first!
Happy Reading,
C.J. Carmichael
www.cjcarmichael.com (http://www.cjcarmichael.com)
Promise from
a Cowboy
C.J. Carmichael
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Hard to imagine a more glamorous life than being an accountant, isn’t it? Still, C.J. Carmichael gave up the thrills of income tax forms and double-entry bookkeeping when she sold her first book in 1998. She has now written more than twenty-eight novels for Harlequin and invites you to learn more about her books, see photos of her hiking exploits and enter her surprise contests at www.cjcarmichael.com (http://www.cjcarmichael.com).
This is for my writing companion, my real “laptop,” our family cat Penny. Every writer should have a classy cat like you.
Contents
Prologue (#u1226d1e0-8239-516c-abd7-39d42e012ed7)
Chapter One (#u290fedc8-78d7-55a9-afe8-f66330cb7d54)
Chapter Two (#ua1d93512-69cc-5a5c-a1d8-59d801b04fd9)
Chapter Three (#u3c2dcff4-5027-5712-aba4-67051996eab1)
Chapter Four (#u7248015b-8aad-5977-bf94-aff074742fbf)
Chapter Five (#u81873294-1dcb-51a9-904f-9f19b2f9f40d)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Excerpt (#litres_trial_promo)
Prologue
Sheriff Savannah Moody drove up to the church and parked right at the front, next to the bridal party’s white sedan. She thought of all the people waiting inside. The white steeple was the visual focal point of Coffee Creek, Montana, but Savannah had rarely been inside.
Her father’s funeral, with the paltry attendance of less than a dozen mourners, the marriage of a close friend and then that friend’s first baby’s christening. That was pretty much it.
And now this.
With long, purposeful strides, she made her way along the sidewalk, up the stairs and to the double doors. Muffled organ music seeped out from the building’s pores—a joyous sound that soon would end.
Delivering tragic news was the hardest part of her job. Today she had to do it to a man who’d been her first love. They’d dated all through high school. She’d been so sure she’d spend the rest of her life with him.
Then he’d done something stupid, involved her brother, and the next thing she knew he’d joined the rodeo circuit, rarely making it home to Coffee Creek in the seventeen years that followed.
But he was home now. She’d seen his truck in town a few times this week. He’d returned to witness the marriage of his youngest brother, Brock.
Savannah swallowed, then took a deep breath and went in.
The organ music swelled, became something she recognized, but couldn’t name. The chatter of the waiting guests was cheerful, but edged with anxiety. Judging by the number of vehicles parked outside, at least a hundred people were waiting inside. But the vestibule was empty, so she continued toward two open doors to her right.
She’d no sooner stepped onto the blue carpet that stretched the length of the aisle, when sudden silence fell over the church. A hundred smiling, curious faces turned to face her.
They were expecting the bride.
Instead, they saw the local sheriff. And in that second expressions changed to worry, shock, concern...and fear.
“I need to talk to someone from the Lambert family.” Savannah thought her voice sounded too loud in the silent church. Sensing movement behind her, she turned to see the bridal party approaching from the rear.
First was the dark-haired bride, Winnie Hays, owner of the Cinnamon Stick Café.
Savannah had never met the redheaded bridesmaid standing a step behind Winnie, but she’d heard that a best friend from New York City had arrived in town a week ago to participate in the festivities. So this was obviously her.
The second bridesmaid was Brock’s blonde sister, Cassidy. She looked so pale, Savannah was worried she was about to faint.
Savannah turned back to the front of the church where the rest of the Lambert family was seated. Olive, matriarch of the largest ranch in the county since her husband’s death many years ago, had never hidden the fact that she looked down on Savannah and her family. Beside her was her eldest son, B.J. His eyes were on her and the penetrating gray gaze suddenly became the only thing she could focus on.
B.J. was the first to stand, so handsome and civilized in his dark gray suit. “Savannah. What happened?”
Olive stood up next, using her son’s arm for support. “Has there been an accident?”
“I’m sorry, Olive. But yes.” She had to push herself to add, “There’s been an a-accident. Jackson’s SUV hit a moose on Big Valley Road, about five miles from town.”
A collective gasp by the congregation was followed by a few seconds of stunned silence.
“Brock?” Winnie asked from behind her, voice trembling.
Savannah turned to face the bride. “I’m so sorry, Winnie. Brock was sitting in the front passenger seat—the impact point with the moose. He didn’t have a chance.”
Savannah knew the pain her words were causing and she hated it. She called on all her strength to keep calm and measured.
And then B.J. was speaking again. “What about Corb? And Jackson?”
Jackson had been taken in by the Lamberts when he was thirteen years old. And Corb was the third Lambert son, the next oldest after B.J.
“Jackson was driving, wearing his seat belt, and the air bag was able to cushion him from the worst of it. He’s badly bruised and shaken, but he’s okay. Corb was in the backseat. He should have been fine, but I’m afraid he wasn’t wearing his seat belt. As we speak he’s being medevaced to Great Falls. I can’t say how bad his injuries are. You’ll have to talk to the doctors about that.”
“Is he conscious?” B.J.’s mother asked, her eyes wide with desperation.
Again Savannah shook her head, wishing there were some way to cushion the blow. “No.”
Overcome, finally, by the shock and the horror, the bride swayed and suddenly everyone was rushing forward to help.
“We need a sweater, or a warm jacket,” the redheaded bridesmaid called out to the crowd.
A second later, a man’s suit jacket was settled over Winnie’s shoulders and Dan Farley, the local vet, was ordering the crowd to step back and give Winnie some space. The large, muscular man then picked up the bride and carried her out for some fresh air.
Savannah switched into crowd-control mode and cleared a path for Farley, the bride and the bridesmaid to exit the church. Then she supervised the orderly evacuation of the rest of the Lambert family.
B.J.’s gaze fell on hers as he passed by. Her stomach clenched at the fear and worry on his face. She almost reached out her arm to him. Then drew it back.
Once, she could have provided him comfort. But those days were over.
Chapter One
Eleven months later
B. J. Lambert was in the loading chute at the Wild Rogue Rodeo in Central Point, Oregon, about to settle all one hundred and sixty pounds of himself on the back of a horse that had been named Bucking Machine.
These were the moments B.J. lived for. As he clamped down on the adrenaline rush of anticipation and fear—and yes, there was fear, only a fool wouldn’t have at least a little—a deep calm washed over him.
Once that chute was opened, it would all be over in eight seconds. He might have the best ride of his life or be disqualified. He could end up injured, or he might stroll out of the arena as nonchalantly as if he’d just taken a walk through a park.
B.J. pulled in as much air as his lungs could hold. He knew the announcer was talking about his accomplishments, perhaps going so far as to call him one of the legends of rodeo.
After eighteen years on the circuit, the buckles and trophies tended to add up.
But B.J. wasn’t listening to any of that. His mind was focused entirely on the present and the animal he was about to ride.
“Give me your best,” he said in a low voice to Bucking Machine. “And I’ll give you mine.”
He gripped the rigging in his left hand and gave the signal he was ready. As the chute opened he settled his full weight on the gelding and the ride began.
Bucking Machine started with a wild leap and B.J. focused on making contact with the heels of his boots, marking him out to prevent disqualification.
Then, with his right hand high in the air, he matched his wits, strength and balance with those of the horse. He wasn’t so much thinking at this point as simply doing what came naturally.
The more wicked turns and kicks the horse threw at him, the happier B.J. was. Only 50 percent of his grade was based on his skills—the rest was up to the gelding.
Give me all you’ve got. I can take it.
And he did. But when the eight-second horn sounded, he lost no time in getting off. He jumped, managing to land on his feet in the dirt-packed arena.
From the volume of the crowd’s cheering, he could tell he’d had a good round. He waved his hat, specifically looking for his sister, Cassidy, and her fiancé, Dan Farley, who were also participating in the rodeo. Next he looked for his mother, sitting rigidly in the stands.
Olive did not approve of the rodeo and he didn’t kid himself that she was here to watch him perform. No, she’d driven all this way to cheer on Cassidy and Farley, whose recent engagement had pleased her so much she was willing to put aside her usual distaste for the sport.
