Treacherous Trails Page 14

Owen ground his teeth in frustration.

  “Tell me what happened to you,” Candy said.

  Owen did, omitting no details, including the hit-and-run death of Linda Ferron.

  Candy bit her lip. “He told me he’d tried to help Linda in the past, but she was a raging alcoholic and she was beyond help.”

  “Because he made her that way.”

  She listened, tapping a fingernail against her lip. “It’s all so crazy, these allegations.”

  “Has Tony turned up?”

  “No. The police told me they would let me know as soon as they caught him.”

  “I told you he drove us off the bridge.”

  The worried crimp of her brow made him think she at least believed him about that.

  “How did Tony come to work here?”

  She hesitated. “Bruce hired him. They worked together before at some stable or another, but that doesn’t prove anything. He didn’t know Tony was a criminal. Maybe Tony killed Luke and framed Ella for it.”

  Progress. At least Candy was ready to consider the possibility that Ella was innocent. “Or maybe Reed is trying to scam you out of your money, like he did with Linda Ferron and probably others.”

  She jerked as if he’d slapped her, walking to the wide bank of windows that looked out over her acres of moonlit pastures. “I don’t want to believe that. You’re grasping at straws to keep Ella out of prison.”

  He fought for calm. “Miss Silverton, I saw a woman die today, a woman whose life was wrecked by Bruce Reed. I don’t want to see that happen again, not to Ella and not to you.”

  He waited, breath held.

  Still with her back to him, she opened the small drawer of the secretary desk. Turning, she handed him a piece of paper.

  “What is this?”

  “I... I snooped in Bruce’s wallet after I visited you in the hospital. I found this phone number. I had a friend search the name.”

  Owen held his breath.

  “Who does it belong to?” Jack asked.

  “His wife, Violet Wilder.”

  She pressed the paper in his hand and his thoughts whirled. The next lead, another move toward bringing Reed down. “And you’re giving me this information? Does that mean you believe me about Reed?”

  She snuggled the robe around her tighter. “I’m not really giving you anything, I just want you to know I’m not an idiot. People always think your life is easy if you’re rich, and I guess it is in a way, but it comes at a cost. All my life I’ve been surrounded by people who butter up to me because I’m an heiress. Everyone from the town vet to the grocery store guy. I’ve had some relationships in my life and they’ve all turned out to be a series of people looking to get a piece of the Silverton pie. That hurts, you know?”

  A sheen of moisture glimmered in her eyes. He’d never considered how difficult it must be to approach every relationship with suspicion, walls up, one foot out the door. “I guess it would.”

  “And Bruce is the first one in a very long time to make me feel like I’m worthy to be loved, fortune or no fortune.”

  He clamped his lips together to keep from saying, Reed is the worst of the lot.

  “To be honest, I don’t want to lose that. I’ve come to love Bruce and that was not easy for me.” She looked suddenly tired, the lines around her lips pronounced. “So I’m not ready to take your word for it about him.”

  “But...”

  She held up a palm. “But I’m saying I will be cautious and check some things out. First off, I want to know why he didn’t tell me he had a wife.”

  Owen gripped the paper. “We’ll look into it, tell you anything we come up with after we talk to her.”

  “You won’t be doing that.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Violet Wilder died fifteen years ago in a train derailment.”

  TWENTY

  Just before bedtime, Ella opened the door to Zeke Potter and invited him to sit with her in Grandad’s front room. Betsy waved from her spot at the table where she was putting together a simple puzzle.

  “Came to check on you,” he said. “Sorry it’s so late. Mrs. Thorn said it was okay.”

  She curled up with her feet underneath her, hair still wet from her earlier shower.

  “You look half in,” he said, after a pause. “You okay?”

  She swallowed hard against the tears that threatened and told him in low tones the gist of what had happened. He leaned back against the sofa cushions and passed trembling fingers over his forehead. “I can’t fathom it.”

  They sat in silence for a while. Ella noticed Zeke looked thinner, careworn. “What’s the matter, Zeke?”

  He squirmed. “Hardly seems right to tell you in light of your own troubles.”

  “Tell me anyway.”

  “I, uh, wanted to let you know that I’m retiring.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Just the expense of it all. Can’t keep up with the bills. Gonna have to sell my place.”

  His home had been in his family for three generations. Tears crowded her lids. “I wish... I wish I had some money I could loan you. You’ve been so good to me.”

  His face reddened. “Ain’t that just like you? To want to help me even though you’re in a heap of trouble yourself?”

  “You helped me when I hit rock bottom and I’ll never forget that.”

  “You don’t owe me anything, not one thing. Anyway, it’s my own fault. Dumb guy like me ought not to be tossing money away on the ponies.”

  Gambling. His vice. She thought he’d given it up for good, prayed for it. “How bad?”

  “Awww, I owed some people, bad people, but it’s paid off now. Paid with my soul, Ella. There’s nothing left.”

  She took his wrists. “You can start again. I’ll help you, when... I mean, after the trial.” But they both knew where she might be living after the trial. The clang of the cell door roared in her ears.

  “It’s okay, Ella. This old bear will be all right. I’m gonna stay on for a few months until I can get the house sold, but I wanted to give you this...”

  It was his hammer, the one from his father who had been a farrier until the day he died.

  She touched the hickory handle, which had been shaped to fit his father’s hand, then Zeke’s. “I can’t accept it. It’s too much.”

  “It’s the only thing I got to give you. I feel so bad about all your trouble, Ella. If there was some way I could undo what’s happened...”

  “The only way is to stop Bruce Reed.”

  He grew serious. “It just doesn’t seem possible.”

  She jutted her chin. “I will find a way. I have to. Betsy and I won’t ever be safe until he’s in prison.”

  He folded her palm around the hammer, enveloping her hand in his calloused grip. “Be careful, Ella.”

  “I will be.”

  He shuffled down the path, shoulders hunched against the vast Gold Country sky. How many people over the centuries had come to this part of the world, hoping to find their fortunes, only to lose everything? The thought of Zeke throwing away his life for that feverish hope that the next wager would be his salvation crushed her. She said a prayer then and there that somehow, some way, God would save Zeke from the destruction he’d wrought. It felt like the final blow to have him walk out of her life. Her father, Ray, Owen...

  She blinked hard and picked up the hammer, smoothing her fingers over the worn handle. Outside the horses nickered, silhouetted in the molten rays of the setting sun. Would she ever be able to return to her farrier work? If not, how would she provide for Betsy?

  Cart before the horse, she told herself sternly. If you don’t find a way to beat Bruce Reed, nothing else matters.

  Linda Ferron’s pleading face swam before her eyes.

  Tell my sister.

 
It was one thing she knew she must do.

  “I’ll tell her,” Ella whispered to herself. “I promise.”

  * * *

  Owen did not see much of Ella and Betsy on Saturday, and Ella refused to go to the morning church service on Sunday.

  “I’ll attend the evening one with Betsy,” she said.

  He understood why—less people to stare, to whisper. It infuriated him, left him tossing and turning that night until Monday morning finally arrived and he could throw himself into his chores. A predawn ride with Glory soothed his jangled nerves but did not provide him any insight on how to proceed with his assault on Bruce Reed’s Teflon reputation. His phone reminded him of his physical therapy appointment and he went with a hitch in his gut.

  What if the doctor said he could not recover? That his marine career really was over and done with? Though he felt like pacing, he forced himself to remain still in the hardbacked waiting room chair until it was time. The doctor did her usual torturous range of motion tests and then she sat back in the seat and gestured him into another.

  “You continue to progress, Owen. Running a ranch is better than any exercises I could prescribe. So what do you want from me?”

  “I want you to give me the green light to return to my unit.”

  She cocked her head. “Is that still what you want?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Why would you question it?”

  She tapped a pen on her desk. “I’ve known you and your family a long time, Owen. Since you were that high school football player with the beat-up ankle who could not stomach the thought of missing a game.”

  He nodded for her to continue.

  “You’ve beaten back so much adversity here in the States,” she said. “Overcome your painkiller addiction, worked to reacclimatize yourself to peacetime.” She shrugged. “I know you’re helping Ella Cahill through her ordeal.”

  He laughed. “Small towns. News travels, huh?”

  “Well, that was pretty big news, her being accused of murder.”

  “We’re gonna prove her innocent.”

  “Before you reenlist?”

  He folded his arms. “Okay. What are you really getting at, doc?”

  “I feel like I can say this to you because I’ve known you for so long. There’s a calm to you that I’ve not seen before, and it makes me wonder if you’ve found what you needed here at home.”

  Confusion rifled through him. Calm? He hadn’t noticed that the coiled spring of tension inside him had loosened a bit of late. Why? Did it matter? He was a marine, born to do it, destined for it, made for war. That had not changed. It was his dream and always would be until he was ready for his pine box.

  “I need to re-up.”

  “Why?”

  He bristled. “Because it’s my dream and you’re supposed to be consulting on my leg, not my life.”

  She looked away.

  He blew out a breath. “I’m sorry. I apologize. I was rude.”

  “So was I, I guess. You’re right. You came to me about the leg, so that’s what I’ll report on. Here’s the straight answer. You will probably never regain full range of motion in that leg. There was just too much damage to the musculature. You will likely always limp and have to live with chronic pain for the rest of your life.”

  His heart plummeted.

  “However, in my opinion, you have recovered sufficiently enough to do your job as a marine. Congratulations, Owen.”

  He laughed as his lungs resumed their rhythm and her pronouncement awakened excitement he had not felt in a long while. “You almost had me scared there for a minute.”

  “I thought marines were never scared.”

  “That’s why I said almost.”

  They shook hands and he thanked her again. On his way back to the truck, he puzzled over her comments. It was true he had left the ferocious painkiller cravings behind, and the wild nights of pacing like a caged lion had passed.

  ...it makes me wonder if you’ve found what you needed here at home.

  No, he decided. His dream had not changed. He wanted more than anything, with every fiber and pulse, to return to his unit, and that’s what he would do. With a light heart, he walked through the front lobby where he found the receptionist standing on the front step, peering up the street.

  “What’s going on?”

  “I don’t know, but a cop car just pulled up at the Sunrise Café.”

  He followed her gaze. A crowd of people collected on the sidewalk outside the establishment. Stomach plummeting, he recognized his brother Keegan’s motorcycle parked on the sidewalk, just ahead of Larraby’s squad car.

  He sprinted toward the melee, shouldering aside the gawkers until he found his brother Keegan being restrained by Oscar Livingston, the manager of the Gold Nugget Inn.

  “It’s okay, son,” Oscar said. “Get yourself under control.”

  Keegan was panting, nostrils flared, fury radiating from every fiber.

  Bruce Reed faced him, a trickle of blood on the corner of his mouth. Larraby stood between them.

  He went to his brother. “What happened?”

  “He was spouting off,” Keegan snarled. “Telling everyone how sad it was that Betsy would be alone once Ella went to prison. I told him to knock it off, but he wouldn’t, so I shoved him and he banged his mouth.”

  “He would have seriously injured me if these people hadn’t intervened,” Reed said, swiping at his jaw.

  “Yeah, I would have because you don’t even know how to make a fist,” Keegan said.

  “Knock it off, Keegan,” Larraby said.

  “Just a shove is all,” Oscar said. “No punches were thrown.”

  Keegan glared. “As if he could take a punch.”

  Owen pushed against Keegan’s heaving chest. “Let it go.”

  “Uh-uh. Why should he be able to shoot his mouth off with lies about Ella?”

  “Because this is America and he’s allowed to say anything he wants,” Larraby said. “Which means if he presses charges, you’re going to jail, Keegan.”

  Larraby’s eyes glittered greedily. Owen knew it was exactly what Larraby longed for.

  “Do what you have to do, man,” Keegan said. Owen pressed against Keegan’s chest, felt the pulse of his brother’s rage there. He knew that kind of anger because he’d felt it, lost control of it so many times.

  “How’s that justice, Owen?” Keegan snarled. “He gets to spread lies, ruin her reputation.”

  “It’s not justice, Keeg. Justice doesn’t live here, I’ve heard it said.”

  “Then what’s wrong with this picture?” Keegan’s eyes blazed at him. “You go overseas to bleed and take bullets and you come back home to this kind of enemy?” He jutted his chin at Reed. “How can you take it?”

  “Because you have to and because you have other people who need you.” Owen heard his brother Jack’s wisdom coming out of his mouth and it surprised him. When had the switch flipped in his mind? The moment he considered that however much he detested Bruce Reed, he loved his brother more. And right now, Keegan needed someone to hold the reins steady.

  Owen turned to Reed. “So are you pressing charges or not?”

  Reed considered, his sly glance taking in the crowd gathered around. “No,” he said finally. “I’ll overlook it this time.”

  Owen faced him head-on. “Don’t think you’re gonna get a thank-you from us,” Owen said, “because my brother is right. Ella Cahill is innocent and the filth you’re spreading won’t stop the truth from coming out about you.”

  He nodded a thank-you to Oscar, turned Keegan around and marched him back to his bike. His brother was still breathing hard, jaw set.

  Owen gestured. “Go home. I’ll follow.”

  “It’s not right.”

  “I know, so let’s go home and figure out how to win.”<
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  Keegan didn’t reply. He pulled away from the curb and took off.

  Reed’s smile sliced into Owen as he left.

  He wondered at the crowd milling around Reed, one offering him a handkerchief to dab at the blood on his mouth. Some of them had lived in Gold Bar for generations. He knew Oscar supported Ella. He figured Peg did too, from the wave she gave him as he got into his truck. But as for the rest, would they believe in Ella’s innocence?

  Or had she already been found guilty in their hearts?

  Didn’t matter, he told himself savagely. He’d find enough evidence that they’d have to.

  Justice may not live in Gold Bar, but he would make sure it was a captive visitor until Ella was cleared once and for all.

  TWENTY-ONE

  Ella knew something was up when she got off the old kitchen phone with Dory. Keegan threw himself down in a chair, looking murderous. Owen’s mouth was pinched into a grim line. Neither one was going to talk about it in spite of Mrs. Thorn’s badgering.

  “Nothing,” Owen said. “Just a misunderstanding at the café with Reed.”

  Ella’s stomach constricted. “What kind of misunderstanding?”

  “Reed was slandering Ella and he needed someone to shut his mouth for him,” Keegan said.

  Mrs. Thorn groaned.

  “It’s okay,” Owen said. “It’s over. No harm done.”

  But Ella knew there had been plenty of harm done, probably to her reputation, and now to Keegan’s. “Oh, Keegan. Please don’t get tangled up with Reed on my behalf. Bad enough that Owen’s been his target.”

  “I can handle Reed,” Keegan snapped.

  “But you won’t,” Evie said. “That’s not going to solve anything and it’s going to land you in jail. Do you really want to give your half brother a chance to throw you in a cell?”

  Keegan didn’t answer. The room sank into an uncomfortable silence.

  Ella bit her lip. A gathering darkness seemed to be enveloping her, spreading to everyone who tried to help her. Betsy, Linda Ferron, Owen, now Keegan.

  Evie let out a breath, straightened her shoulders and turned to her older son. “Anyway, how did your doctor appointment go with Dr. Von, honey?”