At the Crossroads (Buckhorn, Montana #3)(86)

“Your son is kicking up his heels,” she said as something outside caught her eye. She turned toward the large window. “Culhane, it’s snowing!” Huge lacy flakes drifted down, growing thicker as she watched them in the outside lights.

He hugged her as they watched it snow. “I promised you a white Christmas, didn’t I?”

She snuggled against him. “You’re a man of your word.”

He laughed softly. “I sure hope Santa can find us.”

“You aren’t one of those people who can’t wait to open presents, are you?”

“Today I got the best present anyone could ask for,” he said and nuzzled her neck. “But I might have shaken a couple of the ones under the tree with my name on them.”

“You’re incorrigible. What am I going to do with you?” she said, laughing.

“I’m sure you’ll think of something.” Together they stood there watching the snow fall as the fire crackled in the stone fireplace. Safe and warm, they talked about the future.

FIVE MONTHS LATER, Culhane took his infant son in his arms. He looked down into that perfect little face with awe and felt his heart fill with love for his son. His son.

He looked at Alexis and smiled through his tears. “Thank you.”

“I didn’t do it alone,” she said with a laugh.

“You are amazing,” he said to her, meaning every word. The last few months had been the best in his life. He couldn’t imagine anything topping them until now. “I never dreamed of the kind of joy that you’ve brought to my life, and now this?”

She chuckled. “So you like him?”

“Oh, Alex.” He tried to swallow the lump in his throat as he pushed aside the blanket a little to look at his son’s tiny feet with their ten perfect toes. And those hands! As he touched one, the little fingers opened only long enough to wrap around his finger. “Hey, this kid has a grip! And he just smiled at me.”

“Of course he did,” Alexis said grinning. “You’re going to be a great dad.”

“I hope so.” He looked at his wife again. His wife. “I love you,” he whispered as he handed her their son and sat down on the edge of the bed to put his arm around her.

“He’s going to need a name,” she said, smiling down at the infant. “He looks like you.”

“We could name him after your father.”

“Harry? I think not,” she said with a shake of her head. “Anyway, Dad already vetoed that idea. What about naming him after your father?” He could tell that she’d been hesitant to even suggest it.

“You would be all right with that?” he asked.

“I see your father’s love every day in our home and this ranch.” She nodded. “I would be more than all right with it.”

Culhane tightened his hold on her. “How did I get so lucky? All right, then, son. Nathaniel Culhane Travis. Boy, that’s a mouthful for such a little guy. How about we call you Nate after your grandfather for the time being? Hey, he smiled again.”

Alexis laughed. “It’s gas, Culhane. But Nate it is.”

“When can we start trying to make another one?” he asked with a grin.

“Culhane.” She shook her head, but she was smiling.

Look for the next book in the Buckhorn, Montana series coming from New York Times bestselling author B.J. Daniels. Read on for a sneak peek.














THE SATURDAY EVENING the crows came, Jasper Cole had been standing in his ranch kitchen cleaning up his dinner dishes. He 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 another memory of a time dozens of crows had come to his grandparents’ farmhouse. 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 that now 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.

Laughing to himself, he closed the window and finished his dishes. He didn’t really believe the crows had come to warn him this time – anymore than they had the 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 to come. 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 here was done.

Over the next few days, he would remember the evening the crows appeared. It was the same day Leviathan Nash came to Buckhorn, Montana, to open his shop in the old carriage house and strange things had begun to happen—even before people started dying.

Keep reading for an excerpt from Pursued by the Sheriff by Delores Fossen.


Copyright ? 2021 by Barbara Heinlein




Pursued by the Sheriff



by Delores Fossen