Her Cowboy Dilemma. C.J. CarmichaelЧитать онлайн книгу.
bunch.
Yet falling in love with Winnie Hayes had changed him—in good ways. And at twenty-eight, he certainly wasn’t too young for marriage. Not that his brothers had set good examples on that score.
B.J. at thirty-four and Corb, thirty-two, were both still single. Could it be they’d talked Brock out of taking the plunge?
Or maybe he’d come up with cold feet all on his own.
How else to explain the fact that Brock, who was supposed to be the groom, and Corb, who was supposed to be the best man, and their driver, friend and foster brother, Jackson Stone, were fifteen minutes late for the ceremony?
Everything else was in place. Guests filled the pews of Coffee Creek’s pretty white church. The organist was doing her best to drive them crazy with important-sounding music. And the bride and bridesmaids—Cassidy included—were waiting in the antechamber for their big moment.
“What time did Corb say they left?” Winnie asked. She was perched on the ledge of the windowsill with Cassidy, both of them peering out on a warm, sunny July afternoon.
With her dark hair, creamy skin and lovely figure, Winnie made a perfectly gorgeous bride. She was also fun, a good cook and strong enough to set Brock straight when he needed a firm hand.
Cassidy approved.
She also liked Winnie’s friend from New York City, Laurel Sheridan, who was checking her watch for the umpteenth time.
“Thirty-five minutes ago,” Laurel replied.
“What’s happened?” Winnie stared out the window as if she could will the Coffee Creek Ranch’s black SUV to suddenly appear.
“Don’t worry,” Laurel said. “Could be they ran out of gas or had a flat.”
“Or maybe they got halfway here only to realize that Corb forgot the ring.” Cassidy made the joke halfheartedly. She was actually starting to worry—something both Corb and Brock would tease her about if she admitted it later.
She swung her new cream-colored cowboy boots, admiring how they went with the sage-green dress that Winnie had picked out for her and Laurel. She and Laurel were dressed like twins, except Laurel was wearing pretty, high-heeled pumps with her dress.
Cassidy didn’t do pumps. Cowboy boots and running shoes were more her style.
“But if they’ve been held up,” Winnie said, “why haven’t they called?”
Laurel held out her hands to Winnie. “You’re making me dizzy up there.” Winnie jumped, and then Cassidy followed.
“I’ll call them,” she said, unable to stand the waiting anymore. “I’ll go get my phone.”
She slipped out of the antechamber, intending to head for the minister’s office at the other end of the hall. All three of them had left their purses—including their phones—in the bottom drawer of the filing cabinet.
But a late-arriving guest caught her eye. Dan Farley, the local vet, was as darkly handsome as ever, and the distraction of seeing him unexpectedly like this made her momentarily clumsy. As she tripped over her own feet, Dan gave her a quick, dismissive glance.
Not quick enough, however, for her to miss the disapproval in his expressive dark eyes.
Or was it dislike?
Probably both, Cassidy decided, as she continued down the hall, trying not to think about the broad-shouldered vet or the beautiful woman who’d been standing by his side.
Who was that woman? Her brothers hadn’t mentioned anything about Farley having a new girlfriend. She entered the minister’s office, went to the filing cabinet at the back and pulled open the drawer.
Then again, why would they tell her? No one had any reason to assume she’d be interested in Dan Farley’s love life.
Nor was she. Not particularly.
She grabbed her phone and called up Brock’s number. As she waited for him to answer, she made her way back to the antechamber. As she slipped inside the door, she heard Winnie whispering something to Laurel, but she stopped talking as soon as she saw Cassidy.
“Brock isn’t answering.” Cassidy ended the call, frustrated. “I’ll try Corb.”
No answer there, either. “Damn.”
Finally, she called Jackson. Again, nothing. “If this is some sort of prank, I’m going to kill them.”
Actually, if she saw them right now, she’d be more inclined to give them all hugs. She was really worried and—
“Someone’s coming!” Winnie was back at the window. “I think it’s Jackson’s SUV.”
Cassidy hurried to Winnie’s side. Please let her be right! But one glance dashed all her hopes. “No. It’s the county sheriff’s vehicle.”
She looked at Laurel, then Winnie, seeing in their eyes the same fear that was making minced meat of her stomach. They watched in suspended dread as the local sheriff made her way out of her vehicle toward the church.
“Who is that?” Laurel asked.
“Sheriff Savannah Moody,” Winnie answered. “She’s a good friend of Brock’s. We were going to invite her to the wedding, but he said there was bad blood between her and B.J. I don’t know the details.”
Neither did Cassidy. One of the drawbacks of being the youngest in the family was that no one told her anything. Still, she knew the trouble went back a long time, to the last year B.J. had lived at home.
Cassidy rushed out of the antechamber in time to see Savannah make her grand entrance. The crowd—expecting to see a bride—was quelled at the unexpected sight of the sheriff.
Aware of Winnie and Laurel coming up behind her, Cassidy made room for all three of them to follow in Savannah’s wake.
“I need to talk to someone from the Lambert family.” Savannah’s official-sounding voice lifted and carried through the silent church.
B.J. stood first. “Savannah. What happened?”
Olive Lambert rose next, clutching her son’s arm. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m s-sorry, Olive. There’s been an 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.
Cassidy flashed back to the days when her father had been teaching her to drive. “Always drive slower at dusk. That’s when your chances of hitting wildlife are the greatest. And pray that you never hit a moose, Cassie. They’re lethal.”
“Brock?” Winnie whispered.
Savannah rotated slowly, not having realized the bridal party was standing at her rear. “I’m so sorry, Winnie. Brock was in the front passenger seat—the impact point with the moose. He didn’t have a chance.”
Cassidy felt as if she’d been kicked in the solar plexus. She was doubling over, just as she heard B.J. ask, “What about Corb? And Jackson?”
“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. Your other brother 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 for that.”
“Is he conscious?” Desperately Cassidy prayed for Savannah to say yes.
But the sheriff shook her head. “No.”
Brock, dead. And maybe Corb, too? No, no, no, no...
Cassidy wanted to run screaming from the church. But Laurel tugged on her arm, gesturing