Iron Will

Are a dead woman’s secrets

enough to kill for...?

Hank Savage has always believed his old girlfriend was murdered. Now he’s come home to Cardwell Ranch and, with the help of PI Frankie Brewster, is determined to find the killer. Trying to keep their feelings at bay, Hank and Frankie quickly learn that every lead reveals a life steeped in secrets—and danger. And that someone from Hank’s past will do anything to keep the truth from being revealed.

B.J. DANIELS is a New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author. She wrote her first book after a career as an award-winning newspaper journalist and author of thirty-seven published short stories. She lives in Montana with her husband, Parker, and three springer spaniels. When not writing, she quilts, boats and plays tennis. Contact her at bjdaniels.com, on Facebook or on Twitter, @bjdanielsauthor

Also by B.J. Daniels

Steel Resolve

Hard Rustler

Rogue Gunslinger

Rugged Defender

Cowboy’s Redemption

Dark Horse

Dead Ringer

Rough Rider

Stroke of Luck

Luck of the Draw

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

Iron Will

B.J. Daniels

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-09417-7

IRON WILL

© 2019 Barbara Heinlein

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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Version: 2020-03-02

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This one is for Paula Morrison, who believes like

I do that if one schlep bag is a great idea, then let’s

make a dozen. Thanks for making Quilting by the

Border quilt club so fun.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Dedication

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

About the Publisher

Chapter One

Hank Savage squinted into the sun glaring off the dirty windshield of his pickup as his family ranch came into view. He slowed the truck to a stop, resting one sun-browned arm over the top of the steering wheel as he took in the Cardwell Ranch.

The ranch with all its log-and-stone structures didn’t appear to have changed in the least. Nor had the two-story house where he’d grown up. Memories flooded him of hours spent on the back of a horse, of building forts in the woods around the creek, of the family sitting around the large table in the kitchen in the mornings, the sun pouring in, the sound of laughter. He saw and felt everything he’d given up, everything he’d run from, everything he’d lost.

“Been a while?” asked the sultry, dark-haired woman in the passenger seat.

He nodded despite the lump in his throat, shoved back his Stetson and wondered what the hell he was doing back here. This was a bad idea, probably his worst ever.

“Having second thoughts?” He’d warned her about his big family, but she’d said she could handle it. He wasn’t all that sure even he could handle it. He prided himself on being fearless about most things. Give him a bull that hadn’t been ridden and he wouldn’t hesitate to climb right on. Same with his job as a lineman. He’d faced gale winds hanging from a pole to get the power back on, braved getting fried more times than he liked to remember.

But coming back here, facing the past? He’d never been more afraid. He knew it was just a matter of time before he saw Naomi—just as he had in his dreams, in his nightmares. She was here, right where he’d left her, waiting for him as she had been for three long years. Waiting for him to come back and make things right.

He looked over at Frankie. “You sure about this?”

She sat up straighter to gaze at the ranch and him, took a breath and let it out. “I am if you are. After all, this was your idea.”

Like she had to remind him. “Then I suggest you slide over here.” He patted the seat between them and she moved over, cuddling against him as he put his free arm around her. She felt small and fragile, certainly not ready for what he suspected they would be facing. For a moment, he almost changed his mind. It wasn’t too late. He didn’t have the right to involve her.

“It’s going to be okay,” she said and nuzzled his neck where his dark hair curled at his collar. “Trust me.”

He pulled her closer and let his foot up off the brake. The pickup began to roll toward the ranch. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Frankie. He just knew that it was only a matter of time before Naomi came to him pleading with him to do what he should have done three years ago. He felt a shiver even though the summer day was unseasonably warm.

I’m here.

Chapter Two

“Looking out that window isn’t going to make him show up any sooner,” Marshal Hud Savage said to his wife.

“I can’t help being excited. It’s been three years.” Dana Cardwell Savage knew she didn’t need to tell him how long it had been. Hud had missed his oldest son as much or more than she had. But finally Hank was coming home—and bringing someone with him. “Do you think it’s because he’s met someone that he’s coming back?”

Hud put a large hand on her shoulder. “Let’s not jump to any conclusions, okay? We won’t know anything until he gets here. I just don’t want to see you get your hopes up.”

Her hopes were already up, so there was no mitigating that. Family had always been the most important thing to her. Having her sons all fly the nest had been heartbreak, especially Hank, especially under the circumstances.

She told herself not to think about that. Nothing was going to spoil this day. Her oldest son was coming home after all this time. That had to be good news. And he was bringing someone. She hoped that meant Hank was moving on from Naomi.

“Is that his pickup?” she cried as a black truck came into view. She felt goose bumps pop up on her arms. “I think that’s him.”

“Try not to cry and make a fuss,” her husband said even as tears blurred her eyes. “Let them at least get into the yard,” he said as she rushed to the front door and threw it open. “Why do I bother?” he mumbled behind her.

* * *

FRANKIE KNEW THE sixty-two-year-old woman who rushed out on the porch had to be Dana Cardwell Savage. Hank had told her about his family. She thought about the softness that came into his voice when he talked about his mother. She’d heard about Dana’s strength and determination, but she could also see it in the way she stood hugging herself in her excitement and her curiosity.

Hank had warned her that him bringing home a woman would cause a stir. Frankie could see his mother peering inside the pickup, trying to imagine what woman had stolen her son’s heart. She felt a small stab of guilt but quickly pushed it away as a man appeared behind Dana.

Marshal Hud Savage. She’d also heard a lot about him. When Hank had mentioned his dad, she’d seen the change not just in his tone, but his entire body. The trouble between the two ran deep. While Dana was excited, holding nothing back, Frankie could see that Hud was reserved. He had to worry that this wouldn’t be a happy homecoming considering the way he’d left things with his oldest son.

Hank’s arm tensed around her as he parked and cut the engine. She had the feeling that he didn’t want to let her go. He finally eased his hold on her, then gave her a gentle squeeze. “We can do this, right? Ready?”

“As I will ever be,” she said, and he opened his door. The moment he did, Dana rushed down the steps to throw her arms around her son. Tears streamed down her face unchecked. She hugged him, closing her eyes, breathing him in as if she’d thought she might never see him again.

Frankie felt her love for Hank at heart level. She slowly slid under the steering wheel and stepped down. Hud, she noticed, had descended the stairs, but stopped at the bottom, waiting, unsure of the reception he was going to get. Feeling for him, she walked around mother and son to address him.

“Hi, I’m Frankie. Francesca, but everyone calls me Frankie.” She held out her hand, and the marshal accepted it in his large one as his gaze took her measure. She took his as well. Hud Savage was scared that this visit wasn’t an olive branch. Scared that his son was still too angry with him. Probably more scared that he was going to let down his wife by spoiling this reunion.

“It’s nice to meet you,” the marshal said, his voice rough with what she suspected was emotion. A lot was riding on what would happen during this visit, she thought, and Hud didn’t know the half of it.

“Frankie,” Hank said behind her. His voice broke. “I want you to meet my mom, Dana.”

She turned and came face-to-face with the ranch woman. Dana had been a beauty in her day; anyone could see that. But even in her sixties, she was still very attractive with her salt-and-pepper dark hair and soft, gentle features. She was also a force to be reckoned with. Dana eyed her like a mama bear, one who was sizing her up for the position of daughter-in-law.

Whatever Dana saw and thought of her, the next thing Frankie knew, she was being crushed in the woman’s arms. “It is so wonderful to meet you,” Dana was saying tearfully.

Behind her, Frankie heard Hud say hello to his son.

“Dad,” Hank said with little enthusiasm, and then Dana was ushering them all into the house, telling her son that she’d baked his favorite cookies and made his favorite meal.

Frankie felt herself swept up in all of it as she told herself this would work out—even against her better judgment.

* * *

“HANK SEEMS GOOD, doesn’t he,” Dana said later that night when the two of them were in bed. She’d told herself that things had gone well and that once Hank was home for a while, they would get even better. She hadn’t been able to ignore the tension between her son and husband. It made her heart ache because she had no idea how to fix the problem.

“He seems fine.” Hud didn’t look up from the crime novel he was reading.

“Frankie is pretty, isn’t she.”

“Uh-huh.”

“She’s not what I expected. Not really Hank’s type, don’t you think?”

Hud glanced over at her. “It’s been three years since we’ve seen him. We have no idea what his type is. He probably doesn’t know either. He’s still young. I thought Naomi wasn’t his type.” He went back to his book.

“He’s thirty-three, not all that young if he wants to have a family,” she said. “It’s just that Frankie isn’t anything like Naomi.”

“Maybe that’s the attraction.”

She heard what he didn’t say in his tone. Maybe that’s a blessing. Hud had never thought Naomi was right for Hank. “I suppose it might be why he’s attracted to her. I just never thought he’d get over Naomi.”

Hud reached over and, putting down his book, turned out his bedside light. “Good night,” he said pointedly.

She took the hint and switched off her own lamp as her husband rolled over, turning his back to her. Within minutes he would be sound asleep, snoring lightly, while she lay awake worrying. The worst part was that she couldn’t put her finger on what made her anxious about Hank coming home now and bringing a young woman.

“He wants to move on, put Naomi and all that ugliness behind him, don’t you think?” She glanced over at Hud’s broad back, but knew he wasn’t going to answer because he didn’t have the answer any more than she did.

She was just glad that Hank was home for however long he planned to stay and that he wasn’t alone anymore. “As long as he’s happy...” Hud began to snore softly. She sighed and closed her eyes, silently mouthing her usual nightly prayers that her family all be safe and happy, and thanking God for bringing Hank home.

* * *

“IT’S BEAUTIFUL HERE,” Frankie said as she stood on the guest cabin deck overlooking the rest of the ranch in the starlight. The cabin was stuck back high against the mountain looking down on the ranch and the Gallatin River as it wound past. “I feel like I can see forever. Are those lights the town?” she asked as Hank joined her.

“Big Sky, Montana,” he said with little enthusiasm.

She turned to him. “How do you think it went?”

He shook his head. “I’m just thankful that my mother listened to me and didn’t have the whole family over tonight. But maybe it would have been less uncomfortable if they’d all been there. Tomorrow you’ll meet my sister, Mary, and her fiancé, Chase.”

“There’s your uncle Jordan and aunt Stacy.”

“And a bunch of my mother’s cousins and their families,” he said with a sigh.

She couldn’t imagine having all that family. Her father had left when she was three. Her mother had married several times, but the marriages didn’t last. Her mother had died in a car accident right after she’d graduated from high school, but they’d never been close. The only real family she’d ever felt she had was an uncle who’d become her mentor after college, but he was gone now too.

“You could just tell them the truth,” she said quietly after a moment. She envied Hank his family, and felt lying to them was a mistake.

He shook his head. “This is difficult enough.” He turned to go back inside. “You can have the first bedroom. I’ll take the other one.” With that, he went inside and closed the door.

Frankie stood on the deck, the summer night a fragrant blend of pine and water. There was just enough starlight that she caught glimpses of it shining off the surface of the river snaking through the canyon. Steep, rocky cliffs reflected the lights of the town, while the mountains rose up into the midnight-blue star-filled canopy.

She felt in awe of this ranch and his family. How could Hank have ever left it behind? But the answer seemed to be on the breeze as if everything about this place was inhabited by one woman. Naomi. She was what had brought Hank home. She was also why Frankie was here.

Chapter Three

Hank rose before the sun and made his way down the mountainside to the corral. He’d missed the smell of saddle leather and horseflesh. He was breathing it in when he heard someone approaching from behind him.

He’d always been keenly aware of his environment. Growing up in Montana on a ranch, he’d learned at a young age to watch out for things that could hurt you—let alone kill you—in the wild. That instinct had only intensified in the years he’d been gone as if he felt a darkness trailing him, one that he could no longer ignore.

“You’re up early,” he said to his father without turning around as Hud came up behind him.

“I could say the same about you. I thought you and I should talk.”

“Isn’t that what we did at dinner last night?” Hank asked sarcastically. His father hadn’t said ten words. Instead his mother had filled in the awkward silences.

“I’m glad you came back,” Hud said.

He turned finally to look at his father. The sun glowed behind the mountain peaks to the east, rimming them with a bright orange glow. He studied his father in the dim light. They were now both about the same height, both with broad shoulders and slim hips. Both stubborn to a fault. Both never backing down from a fight. He stared at the marshal, still angry with him after all these years.

“I’m not staying long.”

Hud nodded. “That’s too bad. Your mother will be disappointed. So am I. Son—”

“There really isn’t anything to talk about, is there? We said everything we had to say three years ago. What would be the point of rehashing it?”

“I stand by what I did.”

Hank laughed. “I’d be shocked if you didn’t.” He shook his head. “It must be wonderful to know that you’re always right.”

“I’m not always right. I just do the best I can with the information and evidence I have.”

“Well, you’re wrong this time,” he said and turned back to the horses. One of the mares had come up to have her muzzle rubbed. Behind him, he heard his father head back toward the house and felt some of the tension in his chest release even as he cursed under his breath.

* * *

DANA HAD INSISTED on making them breakfast. After a stack of silver-dollar-sized pancakes swimming in butter and huckleberry syrup, a slab of ham, two eggs over easy and a tall glass of orange juice, Frankie sat back smiling. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten so much or liked it more.

No matter what happened on this visit to the ranch, she planned to enjoy herself as much as was possible.

“I thought dinner was amazing,” she told Dana. Hank’s favorite meal turned out to be roast beef, mashed potatoes, carrots and peas and homemade rolls. “But this breakfast... It was so delicious. I never eat like this.”

“I can tell by your figure,” her host said, beaming. Clearly Dana equated food with love as she looked to her son to see if he’d enjoyed it. He’d cleaned his plate, which seemed to make her even happier. “So, what do you two have planned today?”

“I thought I’d show Frankie around Big Sky,” Hank said.

“Well, it’s certainly changed since you were here,” his mother said. “I think you’ll be surprised. Will you two be back for lunch? Your father still comes home every day at twelve.”

“I think we’ll get something in town, but thanks, Mom. Thanks for everything.”

Tears filled her eyes and her voice broke when she spoke. “I’m just glad to have you home. Now, plan on being here for supper. Your dad’s doing steaks on the grill and some of the family is stopping by. Not everyone. We don’t want to overwhelm Frankie.”

“I appreciate that,” he said.

Frankie offered to help with the dishes, but Dana shooed them out, telling them to have a fun day.

Fun was the last thing on the agenda, she thought as she left with Hank.

* * *

HANK HAD BEEN restless all morning, but he’d known that he couldn’t get away from the house without having one of his mother’s breakfasts. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her feelings. It would be bad enough when she learned the truth.

Pushing that thought away, he concentrated on his driving as he headed downriver. He’d grown up with the Gallatin River in his backyard. He hadn’t thought much about it until Frankie was doing her research and asked him, “Did you know that the Gallatin River begins in the northwest corner of Yellowstone National Park to travel one hundred and twenty miles through the Gallatin Canyon past Big Sky to join the Jefferson and Madison Rivers to form the Missouri River?”

That she found this so fascinating had surprised him. “I did know that,” he told her and found himself studying her with renewed interest. The river had been part of his playground, although he’d been taught to have a healthy respect for it because of the current, the deep holes and the slippery rocks.

Now as he drove along the edge of the Gallatin as it cut through the rocky cliffs of the canyon, he caught glimpses of the clear green water rushing over granite boulders on its way to the Gulf of Mexico and felt a shiver because he’d learned just how deadly it could be.

A few miles up the road, he slowed to turn onto a dirt road that wound through the tall pines. Dust rose behind the pickup. He put down his window and breathed in the familiar scents. They made his heart ache.

Ahead, he could see the cliffs over the top of the pines. He parked in the shade of the trees and sat for a moment, bracing himself.

“This is the place?” Frankie whispered, her gaze on the cliff that could be seen over the top of the pines.

He didn’t answer as he climbed out. He heard her exit the pickup but she didn’t follow him as he walked down through the thick pines toward the river, knowing he needed a few minutes alone.

An eerie silence filled the air. When he’d first gotten out of the truck, he’d heard a squirrel chatting in a nearby tree, a meadowlark calling from the tall grass, hoppers buzzing as they rose with each step.

But now that he was almost to the spot, there was no sound except the gentle lap of the water on the rocks. As he came out of the pines, he felt her—just as he always had. Naomi. It was as if her soul had been stranded here in this very spot where she’d died.

His knees went weak and he had to sit down on one of the large boulders along the shore. He put his head in his hands, unaware of time passing. Unaware of anything but his pain.

Like coming out of a daze, he lifted his head and looked across the river to the deep pool beneath the cliff. Sunlight glittered off the clear emerald surface. His heart in his throat, he lifted his gaze to the rock ledge high above the water. Lover’s Leap. That was what it was called.

His gaze shifted to the trail from the bridge downriver. It was barely visible through the tall summer grass and the pines, but he knew that kids still traveled along it to the ledge over the water. The trick, though, was to jump out far enough. Otherwise...

A shaft of sun cut through the pine boughs that hung out over the water, nearly blinding him. He closed his eyes again as he felt Naomi pleading with him to find out the truth. He could feel her arguing that he knew her. He knew she was terrified of heights. She would never have gone up there. Especially alone. Especially at night. Why would she traverse the treacherous trail to get to the rock ledge to begin with—let alone jump?

It had made no sense.

Not unless she hadn’t jumped to her death. Not unless she’d been pushed.

Hank opened his eyes and looked up through the shaft of sunlight to see a figure moving along the narrow trail toward the rock ledge high on the cliff. His throat went dry as shock ricocheted through him. He started to call to her even as he knew it was his mind playing tricks on him. It wasn’t Naomi.

He opened his mouth, but no sound came out and he stared frozen in fear as he recognized the slim figure. Frankie. She’d walked downriver to the bridge and, after climbing up the trail, was now headed for the ledge.

* * *

HUD HEAVED HIMSELF into his office chair, angry at himself on more levels than he wanted to contemplate. He swore as he unlocked the bottom drawer of his desk and pulled out the file. That he’d kept it for three years in the locked drawer where he could look at it periodically was bad enough. That he was getting it out now and going over it as he’d done so many times over those years made it even worse.

He knew there was nothing new in the file. He could practically recite the report by heart. Nothing had changed. So why was he pulling it out now? What good would it do to go over it again? None.

But he kept thinking about Hank and his stubborn insistence that Naomi hadn’t committed suicide. He didn’t need a psychiatrist to tell him that suicide was the most perverse of deaths. Those left behind had to deal with the guilt and live with the questions that haunted them. Why hadn’t they known? Why hadn’t they helped? Why had she killed herself? Was it because of them? It was the why that he knew his son couldn’t accept.

Why would a beautiful young woman like Naomi Hill kill herself? It made no sense.

Hud opened the file. Was it possible there was something he’d missed? He knew that wasn’t the case and yet he began to go over it, remembering the call he’d gotten that morning from the fisherman who’d found her body in the rocks beneath Lover’s Leap.

There had been little doubt about what had happened. Her blouse had caught on a rock on the ledge, leaving a scrap of it fluttering in the wind. The conclusion that she’d either accidentally fallen or jumped was later changed to suicide after more information had come in about Naomi’s state of mind in the days before her death.

Add to that the coroner’s report. Cause of death: skull crushed when victim struck the rocks below the cliff after either falling or jumping headfirst.

But his son Hank had never accepted it and had never forgiven his father for not investigating her death longer, more thoroughly. Hank had believed that Naomi hadn’t fallen or jumped. He was determined that she’d been murdered.

Unfortunately, the evidence said otherwise, and Hud was a lawman who believed in facts—not conjecture or emotion. He still did and that was the problem, wasn’t it?