Before Buckhorn
Praise for New York Times bestselling author
B.J. Daniels
“You won’t be able to put it down.”
—New York Times bestselling author Jodi Thomas on Heartbreaker
“Daniels is a perennial favorite on the romantic suspense front, and I might go as far as to label her the cowboy whisperer.”
—BookPage on Luck of the Draw
“Daniels keeps readers baffled with a taut plot and ample red herrings, expertly weaving in the threads of the next story in the series as she introduces a strong group of primary and secondary characters.”
—Publishers Weekly on Stroke of Luck
“Daniels again turns in a taut, well-plotted, and suspenseful tale with plenty of red herrings. Readers will be in from the start and engaged until the end.”
—Library Journal on Stroke of Luck
“Readers who like their romance spiced with mystery can’t go wrong with Stroke of Luck by B.J. Daniels.”
—BookPage
“Daniels is an expert at combining layered characters, quirky small towns, steamy chemistry and added suspense.”
—RT Book Reviews on Hero’s Return
“B.J. Daniels has made Cowboy’s Legacy quite a nail-biting, page-turner of a story. Guaranteed to keep you on your toes.”
—Fresh Fiction
Also by New York Times bestselling author
B.J. Daniels
A Buckhorn, Montana Novel
Out of the Storm
From the Shadows
At the Crossroads
Before Buckhorn
Montana Justice
Restless Hearts
Heartbreaker
Heart of Gold
Sterling’s Montana
Stroke of Luck
Luck of the Draw
Just His Luck
The Montana Cahills
Renegade’s Pride
Outlaw’s Honor
Cowboy’s Legacy
Cowboy’s Reckoning
Hero’s Return
Rancher’s Dream
Wrangler’s Rescue
The Montana Hamiltons
Wild Horses
Lone Rider
Lucky Shot
Hard Rain
Into Dust
Honor Bound
Look for B.J. Daniels’s next novel
available soon from HQN.
For additional books by B.J. Daniels,
visit her website, www.bjdaniels.com.
B.J. DANIELS
New York Times Bestselling Author
Before Buckhorn
I’ve always loved a little weird and spooky,
so I had such a good time writing this book.
This one is for all of you who are like me.
Table of Contents
Before Buckhorn
Out of the Blue
Excerpt from Murder Gone Cold by B.J. Daniels
Before Buckhorn
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER ONE
SATURDAY EVENING THE crows came. Jasper Cole looked up from where he’d been standing in his ranch kitchen cleaning up his dinner dishes. He’d heard the rustle of feathers and looked up with a start to see several dozen crows congregated on the telephone line outside.
Just the sight of them stirred a memory of a time dozens of crows had come to his grandparents’ farmhouse when he was five. The chill he felt at both the memory and the arrival of the crows had nothing to do with the cool Montana spring air coming in through the kitchen window.
He stared at the birds, noticing that all seemed to be watching him. There were so many of them, their ebony bodies silhouetted against a cloudless sky, their shiny dark eyes glittering in the growing twilight. As this murder of crows began to caw, he listened as if this time he might decode whatever they’d come to tell him. But like last time, he couldn’t make sense of it. Was it another warning, one he was going to wish that he’d heeded?
Laughing to himself, he closed the window and finished his dishes. He didn’t really believe the crows were a portent of what was to come this time—any more than last time. His grandmother had, though. He remembered watching her cross herself and mumble a prayer as if the crows were an omen of something sinister on its way. As it turned out, she’d been right.
At almost forty, Jasper could scoff all he wanted, even as a bad feeling settled deep in his belly. That feeling only worsened as the crows suddenly all took flight as if their work was done.
Over the next few days, he would remember the evening the crows appeared. It was the same day Leviathan Nash arrived in Buckhorn, Montana, to open his shop in the old carriage house and strange things had begun to happen—even before people started dying.
CHAPTER TWO
MONDAY MORNING, THE Buckhorn Café was packed. Most of the customers though weren’t seated in the booths or even at the counter. Instead, they were lined up at the front window waiting for something to happen across the highway at the old carriage house.
All the mystery surrounding Leviathan Nash and the new shop had dropped an expectant air of excitement over the tiny isolated town. It had been a while since any new businesses had opened in Buckhorn, so watching the building had now apparently become a town pastime.
With the café located just kitty-corner across the main drag, business had been brisk, the owner Bessie Walker Caulfield said, clearly tickled. “The new shop and its owner are all anyone’s talking about,” she told him as she filled a cup of coffee for him before handing off the coffeepot to the young waitress and heading back to the kitchen. Bessie, a woman in her late fifties with a long gray braid that fell over one shoulder, loved nothing better than being busy.
Jasper had always enjoyed his early morning weekday breakfasts at the café. Usually, the place was empty this early unless it was the day that Bessie made her famous cinnamon rolls. It was why he avoided weekends at the café. He liked the peace and quiet visiting with his older friend while the small town in the middle of nowhere was waking up.
But that wasn’t happening this morning as some of the early-morning patrons took their seats again. As was with most news in Buckhorn, word had spread like wildfire through town that Leviathan Nash, the man who’d rented the old carriage house, had arrived—and gotten to work on the place.
Bessie told him the latest scuttlebutt in between bringing out food for her customers to help her teenaged waitress. According to Mabel Aldrich, who lived behind the old carriage house, she’d seen his large truck backed up to the shop late Saturday night. She’d claimed she’d seen a waif of a man dressed in all black moving around in the shadows, however she hadn’t been able to get a good look at him.
Not only had no one else claimed to have seen Leviathan Nash, they also hadn’t had a peek into his shop. The arched windows in the double doors that had gleamed clean and clear when landowner Melissa Herbert had leased the space, were now covered with black paper and had been since his arrival.
Even Melissa hadn’t apparently laid eyes on the man, according to Bessie, who Jasper considered a reliable source. Melissa, who had only talked to him on the phone since the arrangements had all been made online, said he had an unusually low voice. “How long is this going to last?” Jasper said more to himself than Bessie on one of her update stops by his booth.
She shrugged as she delivered his breakfast on this particular stop. “Probably until his lease is up at the end of the month.”
Suddenly all customers were on their feet again to rush over to the front window, although he couldn’t see what was going on from where he sat. He missed his normal view of the highway that cut through the middle of town.
Jasper concentrated on his breakfast. He always had the same thing every weekday when he came in early. Ham, eggs over easy, toast and coffee, black. He liked routine and resented having that routine interrupted like right now. Maybe Bessie was right, he thought now, remembering an earlier conversation.
“You’re getting set in your ways like an old man,” Bessie had warned him and then lowered her voice. “You want to be like some of these cantankerous old bachelors who come in here?”
“I can think of worse things,” he’d said.
Bessie had shaken her head in defeat, but then grinned. “Let’s just see if Darby Fulton changes your mind,” she’d said with a wink. Darby was the new online newspaper publisher, editor and reporter who’d moved to town a few weeks ago.
Since arriving in town Darby had interrupted more than his thoughts. Saturday night, after seeing the crows, he’d had a very disturbing dream about the young woman. What Bessie didn’t know was that there was much more to the story of him and Darby—something he planned to keep to himself.
“What’s Leviathan Nash done now?” he asked, motioning to the activity at the window as Bessie peered over heads to see what was going on.
“Seems he’s putting up a sign in the front window,” Bessie said before sitting down to have a cup of coffee with him—and banishing his thoughts of Darby for the moment.
As much as Jasper had tried to ignore the goings-on, he had to admit the mystery of Leviathan and his shop definitely had caused a stir. Everyone wanted to be the first to see the man and what he was selling. If Leviathan Nash had only arrived late Saturday night, he’d certainly gotten busy quickly and without any apparent help, Jasper noted.
Unable to take it any longer apparently, Bessie got up and wormed her way through her customers to the front window to see for herself. She came back to the table shaking her head. “Apparently the name of his shop is GOSSIP. Well, he’s certainly gotten that started. Can’t imagine what he sells, though. What is it he doesn’t want people to see by keeping the windows covered? It makes a person wonder. I guess that’s the idea.”
The café patrons returned to their seats when nothing more happened and Bessie went to check her blueberry muffins. Muffin day had never been this busy in the history of the café, he thought.
Across the highway, he could now see the sign reading GOSSIP in large gothic type perched in front of the black paper in one window of the shop. But there was still no open sign.
“If mystery is what he’s after, he’s certainly achieved his goal,” Jasper commented when Bessie returned. “The entire town can’t wait to see what’s inside.”
“Well, they’ll have to,” she said, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “I’ve just heard that several residents have received engraved invitations with a date and time for a ‘special showing.’”
“The man has interesting marketing skills,” Jasper commented as everyone jumped up again. Just before they blocked his view, he saw Vivian “Vi” Mullen walk up to the front door of GOSSIP. She tried the knob and a gasp went up in the café as she opened the door and disappeared inside.
CHAPTER THREE
VI CLUTCHED THE invitation in her hand as she stepped through the door. She knew already that whatever she would find inside was going to make her even more furious than she already was. The nerve of the man inviting her to see what he had. Was he planning to rub it in her face?
Buckhorn had an antique barn and a general store that sold most everything anyone needed in this town—thanks to her and her family. Why someone would want to open a shop that duplicated that was beyond her. It was just wrong.
She planned to let Leviathan Nash know that he should move on or her name wasn’t Vi Mullen. Also GOSSIP was a ridiculous name. She figured the shop wouldn’t be in business for even the month he planned to be here—especially if she had anything to do with it.
But as she stepped in, she was momentarily at a loss for words. She’d expected to see the old carriage house full of junk. Or worse, antiques that would rival her own at the barn.
Instead, the space wasn’t full at all. There was so little on the shelves that she felt a sense of shock. Was this a joke? She realized he had to be waiting on a shipment because this smattering of stuff was absurd. He couldn’t stay in business a week at this rate.
She started to turn around and leave, telling herself she had better things to do. And to think the man had sent her an engraved invitation for this?
But something caught her eye and stopped her cold.
The beautiful blue crystal vase sat at eye level, a light shining on it, making it even more exquisite. Vi moved toward the vase as if no longer in control of her feet. Her pulse drummed in her ears. It couldn’t be. She tried to catch her suddenly ragged breath as she stopped in front of the amazing piece of art, afraid to touch the vase for fear it was a mirage.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” a low, deep voice said from a shadowed far corner of the room.
She could barely pull her gaze away from the vase to look at the man. She realized as she turned that he must have been seated behind the antique desk this whole time. Because of his diminutive size, it was no wonder that she hadn’t noticed him when she’d entered the store.
For days she’d been dying to see Leviathan Nash, but right now it was the vase that pulled her attention back. Everything about the light glowing in the crystal broke her heart and healed it all at once. She desperately wanted to own this, but she knew the vase would be horribly expensive. Did she dare?
The one her mother had prized so dearly had been a family heirloom. After Vi had broken it, she’d spent years searching for a replacement without any luck. And now here it was.
“It’s very old,” Leviathan said suddenly next to her, startling her. The top of the man’s head only came to her shoulder. Had his hair not been gray and his face wrinkled with obvious age, she would have thought him a child. And yet his features were full-sized and masculine. It was difficult to gauge his age. Somewhere in his sixties? He wore all black; his gray hair, much too long, grazed his shoulders. But it was his deep-set dark eyes that gave her a start. Vi would have sworn that she’d never seen him before in her life, but there was something about him that was strangely familiar.
“How...” Her voice broke. “How much is it?”
“Since you’re my first customer, fifty dollars.”
She stared at him, her mouth hanging open. She knew how rare the vase was. Had she been able to find one during her last search, it would have cost her over a thousand dollars.
“Go ahead. Pick it up. You can hold it,” Leviathan said in his low, soothing voice.
She swallowed and carefully reaching out, took the vase in both of her hands. The moment she did, she knew. The weight was right, everything about it was right. This was exactly like the one her mother had loved so much.
“I’ll take it.” When she looked over at him he was smiling, exposing perfect little teeth that reminded her of corn on the cob that wasn’t fully ripened.
“An excellent choice,” he said and walked back to his desk. “Let me wrap it for you.”
She hesitated, not wanting to give it up even for a moment. But at his insistence, she handed the vase over. She watched him carefully wrap it in white tissue paper with surprisingly large strong-looking hands.
“I’m putting my card in here. You’ll want to keep it because it will allow you to come back in case there is a problem or there is anything else you would like,” he said as he put the tissue paper–wrapped package into a white bag.
She quickly dug in her purse, pulled out two twenties and a ten, and handed them over. Reaching for her package, she met his dark gaze and felt that uncomfortable stirring again at the edge of her memory.
But as she headed for the door, she quickly forgot about Leviathan Nash. She stepped outside, passing elderly Anita Berg who was studying her invitation and checking her watch impatiently. “What did you get?” Anita asked, but Vi didn’t answer.
She was too anxious to go home with her find. Although she was half-afraid that when she got home the vase wouldn’t be wrapped in the tissue paper because this whole experience was a dream she would awake from at any moment. Or worse that she would open the bag and lying in the tissue paper would be dozens of broken pieces like the one before it.
The heat of shame flushed her cheeks as she remembered the day her mother’s vase had been shattered. She’d been fifteen and playing outside with her friends when she’d heard her mother scream. They’d all run inside to see what was wrong. Her mother stood, head bent next to the table, sobbing hysterically.