Page 68 of River Legacy
“You’re serious? We could pull something like that off?” Claude looked back as Billings began to disappear behind them.
The pilot shrugged as they continued to climb, the jet rising as he pointed it toward Dallas. “Planes disappear all the time. We’d have to make somechanges to it, but it could be done.” JJ glanced over at him. “You’re really ready to burn the last of your bridges?”
Claude gave it only a moment’s thought. “Damned straight. There’s nothing for me in Montana or Texas anymore. Let’s steal this sucker and make a new life for ourselves.”
JJ nodded and grinned.
Below them, all Claude could see was mountains with jagged cliffs and dark green pines. Nowhere did he see even a road. “You know anyone in South America?” he asked.
“Not yet,” JJ said, still grinning. “When we show up with this jet, we’ll make friends fast.”
Claude laughed, feeling better than he had in a very long time. He was finally free of Wendell Forester and his daughter. The cowboy could have her. He was now in charge of his own life. No looking back, he thought, pleased with himself.
The plane had begun to swing toward the east away from the city and out across the mountains.
Wendell walked up to join them. “We should all leave before the cops show up. I’m sure they were called. I’ll take care of Claude when I return to Dallas.”
“You aren’t going to give him any money, are you?” Vicky said.
Her father didn’t answer. “Claude and I will work it out, don’t worry. He’s just disappointed about how things turned out.”
“Aren’t we all,” Vicky said almost in unison with Ryder.
“It’s just business,” Forester said.
“Right. You want to get out of here?” Ryder asked her. Vicky nodded, and they started to turn away when they heard the explosion. It made them all start and turn toward the sound. As they watched, the Gulfstream turned into a fireball. All three of them stood stunned and horrified as flaming pieces of the craft began to fall from the sky in the distance. Vicky’s hand went to her mouth, her eyes wide. All the color had drained from Forester’s face. Ryder figured he was picturing himself on that flight as he now looked wordlessly at what was left of the plane disappear from view.
Weak with relief and revulsion, all Ryder could do was pull Vicky close. If he hadn’t arrived when he did, she could have been on that plane—Forester as well.
Chapter Twenty-Two
When Holden McKenna had dreamed of bringing the family together, he’d never envisioned it being for a funeral. He looked around the family gathered here in the ranch cemetery, feeling the loss even as he saw how much his family had grown. Lottie stood next to him, holding his hand. Next to her was the girl he’d adopted. Holly Jo was growing into a young woman before his eyes. She’d never really known Treyton. Holden wondered if even he had ever known his son.
Treyton’s funeral had brought home his son Duffy, who’d been working down in Wyoming. He couldn’t believe how much his youngest son had grown into a man of his own. Cooper held his newborn daughter River, his wife Tilly beside him. Holden’s daughter Bailey stood with her husband Sheriff Stuart Layton, both somber as the weather.
Pickett was there with his wife, Oakley, along with ranch manager Deacon Yates and Holden’s friend and longtime housekeeper Elaine.
Lottie stood with him, their son Brand and his wife, Birdie, next to Ryder.
This was his family, he thought as he took in thegroup, awed by the feelings they evoked in him. He was blessed more than he deserved by the strength they gave him.
Tomorrow they would lay Lottie’s son to rest with all of them here again.
Then in a week he and Lottie would get married, bringing both families together.
He thought of that as the preacher droned on about a young man struck down in his prime who Holden had never met. But then, the truth got buried at funerals. He supposed it was best.
Charlotte shaded her eyes from the last of the sun’s rays, the preacher’s voice a buzz in the background as she thought back to her infant son in her arms. She’d had so much hope that day for the man he would become. Her firstborn, CJ, had been destined to one day run the ranch. He’d been her hope for the future. She’d put so much of her love into that child—at the detriment of her other children.
And now she was burying him.
She’d been expecting the call from the sheriff when he’d gotten back to her, but in truth she’d been waiting for that call for years. She’d done her crying a long time ago. Now she stood here about to bury her son, dry-eyed. Not because her heart wasn’t breaking. Or that she didn’t want to curl up in ball with the pain of what she’d done. But for so many years she’d done what she’d had to in order to survive. All she knew was living with the pain. Nothing had changed.
She couldn’t help but remember when she’d finally seen the monster she’d produced. It had been the night she found out he’d hired two men to kill his sister Oakley. That night after she’d called the sheriff and had her son arrested for attempted murder, she’d sobbed until there was nothing left. She’d washed her hands of CJ, blaming herself for him being the way he was.
He would have gone to prison possibly for the rest of his life had she not intervened and gotten him out. She’d wanted to give him another chance, but what she’d really done was gotten him out to die, she thought now as she realized the preacher had finished talking.
Swallowing the lump in her throat, she stepped forward to take up a handful of Powder River basin dirt to drop on the casket. She watched as his casket was lowered into the ground. She no longer had to worry about CJ or what he would do next or who he would hurt ever again.
