Forsaken Canyon. Margaret Daley
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“I don’t know what happened to your wife in Desolation Canyon,” Kit said, “but I am not her.”
Hawke closed the space between them. Hissing in a breath, Kit went rigid, leaning back so far she could easily topple over the sofa with the slightest movement. Through clenched teeth, he muttered, “Don’t you ever bring my wife up again.”
Her chin went up another notch. “Oh, I see. It’s okay for you to play unfair, but not me.”
He thrust his face close to hers. Panic flared in her eyes, but he didn’t back down. Too much was at stake. “This isn’t a game. Haven’t you figured that out yet?”
“You are not my keeper,” she said. “My work is very important to me, but I assure you I won’t take unnecessary risks.”
“So you’ve hiked in places like Desolation Canyon before?” he asked.
“Well, not exactly. If I had, I wouldn’t need you.”
Need you. Those words struck terror into his heart.
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MARGARET DALEY
feels she has been blessed. She has been married more than thirty years to her husband, Mike, whom she met in college. He is a terrific support and her best friend. They have one son, Shaun. Margaret has been writing for many years and loves to tell a story. When she was a little girl, she would play with her dolls and make up stories about their lives. Now she writes these stories down. She especially enjoys weaving stories about families and how faith in God can sustain a person when things get tough. When she isn’t writing, she is fortunate to be a teacher for students with special needs. Margaret has taught for over twenty years and loves working with her students. She has also been a Special Olympics coach and participated in many sports with her students.
Margaret Daley
Forsaken Canyon
Blessed is that man that maketh the Lord his trust.
—Psalms 40:4
To Terri and Rene, thanks for
all the years of friendship
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
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
EPILOGUE
QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION
PROLOGUE
The Guardian wished he hadn’t been forced to do this, but someone had to save Kit from her fiancé. She was just too naive and trusting.
Comfortably hidden in the shut-off balcony of the church, he lined up his sights on the rifle and aimed for the man’s heart. The sounds of the bridal march reverberated through the large nave. With precision and preparation he would succeed, and one day she would thank him.
Her fiancé stood on the steps to the altar, facing the center aisle. The smile the man gave Kit—as though he really loved her—chilled the Guardian. She deserved so much better.
Calmness descended as he adjusted his grip, checking his target. The sight of her nearing her fiancé prompted him into action. Taking a deep breath, he held it while fingering the trigger.
This is for you, Kit. He squeezed off the shot.
ONE
Kit Sinclair sat bolt upright in bed, darkness pressing in on all sides. Her lungs burned as she dragged air into them. The sound of her heart pounding thundered in her ears like the roar of a powerful storm.
Just another nightmare. I’m safe in my bedroom.
But the thought didn’t assuage the terror that constricted her chest as if she were standing in front of the altar right now. She could still see the red stain fanning outward on her fiancé’s snowy-white shirt, and Gregory’s hand reaching out to her. The screams in the church resounded through her mind. The scent of her fiancé’s blood filled her nostrils as though she were still holding his body clutched to her.
Will I ever be free of the memories, Lord?
She raked a wavering hand through her sweat-damp hair, then reached for the lamp on her bedside table. After two failed attempts, she finally managed to pull the chain, and a soft glow flooded the black recesses of her room. But her mind still remained in the clutch of darkness, had since the day her fiancé had been murdered right in front of her two years ago.
Glancing at her clock, she noted the time and realized she’d only gotten a few hours of sleep. She flipped back the sheet and climbed from the bed. She might as well work since she had to get up early anyway to drive from Albuquerque to her meeting in nearby Santa Maria Pueblo this morning.
Thankfully she had something to concentrate on other than her past. She could do nothing about what had happened, but she could prove her theory was right, hopefully with the help of Zach Collier’s cousin. If not she would find another way. Her job at the college depended on it.
Hawke Lonechief finished the dregs of his coffee and motioned for Anna, the owner of the café and his cousin, to refill it. “I’m gonna need it this morning.”
“Another all-nighter?”
“How can you tell?” Hawke took a tentative sip of the black brew, relishing its strong flavor, just the way he liked it, no sugar, no cream.
“Cousin, we grew up together. I know when you haven’t gotten any sleep. Do you ever see your mother?”
“Sure, we had dinner together two nights ago.” And his mother had basically read him the riot act, although in her case it was mainly said with her usual few words. She was worried about him. But, for him, working held the haunting memories at bay.
“You’re the chief of police, so why are you doing everything down at the station? What are the other officers for?”
Hawk shrugged. “What’s wrong with working?”
“Nothing, if in moderation. But you don’t know the meaning of the word.”
He grinned. “Sure I do. It means steering clear of any excesses. I don’t have time for excesses.”
“You don’t call nearly living at the station