Treacherous Trails Page 15

  Owen lifted an eyebrow. “How did you know I went to the doctor?”

  “I told you, it’s the detective in me.”

  He chuckled. “As a matter of fact, it went great. I’m cleared to go back to my unit.”

  Ella knew it was coming, knew that it was Owen’s heart’s desire to reenlist, but hearing the words pulled the shadows even closer, chilling her inside. She tried to picture it...the Gold Bar Ranch with three brothers instead of four.

  Ella Cahill without Owen Thorn.

  Evie offered a bright smile. “Well, I know that’s your dream, so I am happy you got the news you wanted to hear.”

  He pressed a kiss to her temple. “And I know it’s news that causes you pain, Mama. I’m sorry.”

  “I’ll admit it’s been a joy to have you home, but I’ve prayed you through all the tough times in your life and I will keep on praying even harder, especially if you’re off to Afghanistan again.”

  Ella felt Owen looking at her, so she composed her face into something resembling a pleased expression. “That’s great, Owen. All that killer physical therapy paid off.”

  “Thanks, but I want you to know I’m not going anywhere until your case is settled.”

  Until his duty to her was done. Why did the notion pain her so?

  Because you love him.

  There it was, the truth that she could not ignore. She loved him, deeply, desperately, fully...and futilely.

  She was his childhood friend, nothing more. A duty to be completed and left behind. The story of her life. When he’d promised not to leave her in that hospital room, it was never meant to be permanent—she knew that. But how had she let it escape her thoughts for one minute?

  “I’ll be fine. I’m going to go check on Betsy. She was extra tired and she needed a late morning nap.” The urgency to flee from that room bit into her and she hurtled toward the front door.

  “Hold on,” Owen said, catching up to her on the porch. “I’ve got something for you, for Betsy, I mean.”

  He handed over a bulky plastic-wrapped object, but she recognized it at once—the new wheelchair cushion that Betsy so desperately needed. Her cheeks heated as she stared at it. “I can’t afford it.”

  “It’s a gift, from a friend.”

  From a friend.

  “It’s too generous. We can’t accept it.” She tried to hand it back to him, but he would not take it.

  “Sure you can.”

  “Owen, we’re not a charity case.”

  “I don’t see you like that.”

  The floodgates opened. “No, you just see me as your best friend’s kid sister who needs a protector and someone to fix all her problems. Well, I don’t, okay? I’ve taken care of Betsy all my life and I don’t need you to start in now and make us need you and then take off on the next plane like Ray does.”

  His mouth opened in surprise. “What kind of talk is that?”

  “The truth.” Something spurred her to spew out the rest, tossed like grenades into the winter air. “Thank you for what you’ve done, but don’t help anymore. I’m tired of being your mission, so you can feel good about yourself and make Ray proud.”

  Now he was out-and-out staring. “You’re being unreasonable. Stress has gotten to you.”

  “No, it hasn’t, Owen.”

  His mouth crimped. “Is that really how you feel?”

  “Yes, it is.” Her heart thumped hard against her ribs. No, it’s not. I love you. Thoughts that mercifully stayed in her mind.

  He looked at his boots, a vein jumping in his jaw, and she knew she’d wounded him, angered him perhaps, but at that moment, she was glad of it because he was leaving and because she loved the stubborn marine cowboy who did not love her back.

  “Here,” she said, thrusting the cushion back at him. “Maybe you can return it.”

  He stared at her then, blue eyes hard as a frozen lake. “Don’t let your pride get in the way of what your sister needs.”

  “Don’t you dare tell me how to take care of my sister.”

  “Your sister needs this cushion, so hang on to that chip on your shoulder if you want to, but take it for her sake.” He turned on his heel and strode off toward the corral.

  Stomach churning, she stomped back to the cabin. Chip on her shoulder? She tossed the cushion on the sofa. Pride? No, she thought, more like hurt and anger. That’s what was keeping her from taking the precious gift that would ease her sister’s pain.

  Curling up on the sofa, she clutched the cushion and cried.

  * * *

  Owen forked out the afternoon flakes of hay until the sweat ran down his temples.

  I’m tired of being your mission, so you can feel good about yourself and make Ray proud. He was still reeling. All he’d done was bought a lousy cushion and nearly gotten his head lopped off for it. And what was she talking about, her being his mission? He didn’t understand what he felt about Ella, but it was definitely not obligation. No, it was something entirely different that turned his brain to mush and made his fingers want to reach out for her every single moment.

  Had he made her feel she was his duty because he was a bull in a china shop kinda guy about relationships? Action instead of emotion? Service in place of sentimentality? The kind of guy who had never bought a sappy greeting card and would rather clean out stalls than watch lovey-dovey romantic movies? But what kind of relationship did he want with Ella anyway? The freckle-faced kid was gone and a beautiful woman had taken her place, a woman who cantered through his thoughts like a spirited filly.

  But like it or not she did need taking care of, and he wasn’t about to let her own mile-wide stubborn streak open her up to attack. When he saw her wheel Betsy into the house, a small pack slung across her back, he waited. She was going somewhere and he was going to find out where, one way or the other.

  She emerged a short while later as he leaned against the whitewashed fence, arms crossed.

  “Going somewhere?”

  She blushed crimson. “Just running an errand.”

  “Want company?”

  Not from you, her look said loud and clear. “No, thank you. I can handle it.”

  “I don’t think...”

  “I said I can handle it,” she snapped before blowing out a breath. “Owen, I apologize. I was rude before. It was very generous of you to buy that cushion for Betsy. She was grateful to have it and I appreciate your gesture, but I am going to pay you back for it when I can.”

  “Not necessary.”

  “Yes, it is.” Her eyes pleaded with him to understand. “I have to take care of things by myself. It doesn’t pay to rely on other people.”

  Who aren’t going to stick around. The thought stung.

  “I get it, Ella,” he said softly. “But I’m here and the horses are fed, so I might as well go with you on your errand. You’re going to see Dory, aren’t you?”

  Her quick jerk told her he’d guessed right.

  “Yes.”

  “Then I’m going with you.”

  She crossed her arms to match his. “I don’t want you to.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “I’m not doing anything dangerous.”

  He ignored her and got into the driver’s side of Zeke Potter’s loaner truck. “Your driving is dangerous enough, Ella Jo.”

  He probably shouldn’t have tossed her nickname in there. He sat there, waiting. It was possible he’d pushed too far, she’d storm back into the cabin and cancel her visit to Dory altogether, but he didn’t think so. She’d promised she’d make things right between Linda and her sister, and that promise would outweigh the awkward inconvenience of a smart-aleck cowboy chaperone.

  He was relieved when she yanked open the door and slid behind the wheel.

  “You should bring a slicker. It’s gonna rain,” he said.

&nbs
p; “There’s not a cloud in the sky.”

  “I’ve been watching the Doppler. System moving down from Alaska in our direction. There’s an eighty percent chance by four o’clock.”

  “You know there are other stations on the TV besides The Weather Channel? And other apps on your phone to choose for entertainment?”

  “That right?” He eased back on the seat and perched his cowboy hat on his knee. “Did you know the place with the highest annual rainfall is Mahalaya, India? They get 467 inches, mostly during monsoon season.”

  “How do you have room in your brain for important things when you’ve got it all cluttered up with useless weather trivia?”

  He tapped his temple. “Massive cranial capacity.”

  She didn’t laugh, but he thought he caught the hint of a smile. At least her anger had ebbed to the point where he’d weaseled his way along. Point in his favor. If she meant to keep him at arm’s length, he’d take whatever means necessary to protect her.

  TWENTY-TWO

  Ella drove like she always did, which was enough to make Owen gasp a few times at her lane changes. At one point, she noticed him clutching his cowboy hat, a pained look on his face.

  Served him right for forcing himself into her outing, when she’d already told him she had to figure out her problems on her own. The meeting with her lawyer was four days away, and with each passing hour her conviction that she would find evidence to clear herself slipped into uncertainty.

  But if she told her lawyer everything she knew about Bruce Reed, perhaps he could enlist an investigator to help, one that would be beyond the threats of Reed.

  She recalled the picture Reed had texted of Betsy, scared and confused. It made her blood freeze. So easy.

  But how would she protect Betsy without the Thorns’ help?

  It’s just until the trial, she thought, swallowing the lump of fear in her throat. Then her fate would be sealed one way or the other.

  Who will take care of Betsy if you go to prison? The thought burned inside her. She could not be a permanent guest at the ranch. Would Ray come home and take over her care?

  Not likely. She didn’t think he’d give up the marines for anything. She fought back a surge of resentment. Ray would help as best he could. She decided to call him and tell him everything. There had to be some solution if they put their heads together. Owen tensed in the seat next to her.

  “What?”

  “I thought I saw a dark SUV behind us. Maybe I’m being paranoid, but just in case how about we pull over at the next gas station. Don’t kill the engine, okay?”

  She nodded and did as he directed. They stared out the window, watching all the cars drive past them on the main road, her heart pounding like a jackhammer. There was no dark SUV among them. Had the driver pulled off, or maybe passed without his knowing it? Reed following them? Tony?

  Owen offered a calm nod. “Nothing. Guess I was wrong.”

  His gaze remained riveted to the rear and side-view mirrors as they drove to the trailer park.

  When they got there, Dory ushered them into the office and settled them onto a small love seat that meant there was no place for Owen’s arms to find a resting place except when he slung one around Ella’s shoulders. She tried not to inhale the enticing smell of hay and horses and soap that was so much a part of him. The high trailer window was cracked, which allowed a wisp of chill air to creep in, probably in an effort to erase some of the lingering cigarette smoke.

  Dory sat across from them, shaking her head. “I am still trying to process it. I mean, the fire and then her...” She swallowed. “Murder. I keep thinking it will make sense if I say it enough. She was murdered, wasn’t she?”

  “Yes,” Ella said.

  “Reed’s behind it?”

  “Most likely.”

  She gazed out the window into the darkening sky. “My sister was always so hardheaded, selfish. I tried to tell her Reed was after her money but she wouldn’t listen. It seemed like he sucked all her common sense away. He led her like a sheep to the slaughter and no one on this earth could knock any sense into her.”

  Ella took a breath. “She wanted me to tell you...she wanted you to know that she told the truth.”

  “How’s that?”

  “I’m not sure. Maybe in her conversation with Owen and me.”

  “Before she tried to incinerate you?” Dory’s tone was acid.

  Ella tried again. “I’m not sure exactly what she meant, but I needed to tell you that she wanted forgiveness. She craved it in those last moments before her death.” Ella fought a sting of tears. Owen’s arm tightened around her.

  Dory paced the small room. “She was terrible to me and all I wanted to do was help her.”

  “I think she appreciated how you tried, deep down.”

  “How can you tell?”

  Ella chose her words carefully. “Because you were the only person on her mind just before she died.”

  Dory’s face crumpled and she sobbed into a tissue. Ella got up to hug her and Owen retreated into the other part of the office. She didn’t know if it was to allow them privacy or from discomfort at the display of emotion. When Dory had gotten control again, she thanked Ella and wiped her eyes.

  “Will the police ever be able to pin anything on Bruce Reed?”

  “I don’t know,” Ella said.

  “I remembered that a young man came up, maybe a month or two ago. He was good-looking, handsome, dressed in nice clothes for these parts. He wanted to talk to my sister, but she refused.”

  “What was his name?”

  Her brow crinkled in concentration. “Duke...no, Luke. I didn’t catch the last name.”

  Ella exchanged a stricken look with Owen. Luke Baker had been here investigating Linda Ferron? Was it why Reed had murdered him?

  “We’re not going to rest until Reed gets what’s coming to him,” Owen interjected.

  Dory sucked in a breath. “Wait a minute. I have something for you.” She rummaged through the file drawer and pulled out a legal-sized envelope. Ella took it, startled to see her own address on the front with the trailer park as the return address.

  “There wasn’t enough postage, only one crumpled stamp, so it came back to me.”

  The envelope itself had been used before, the old address crossed out with a hurried hand. The handwriting was scrawled in pencil, almost illegible. Ella unsealed the flap and scanned the contents. Blood pounded in her ears and her skin prickled all over.

  “What is it?” Owen asked, grabbing her wrist.

  “It’s a letter from Linda, written on a scrap of paper. She must have dropped it in the mailbox before she was hit by the car.” Ella pulled something else out of the envelope—a key tied on a ratty red string.

  “For a safe deposit box?” Owen asked.

  Dory squinted. “No, mailbox, I think. One of those kinds you rent from a packaging place. I didn’t know she had one. What does the letter say?”

  “It’s hard to read some of it, but I think...” She fought to breath. “I think Linda wrote all the things she suspects about Bruce Reed.”

  Dory blinked. “She really did tell the truth.”

  “Is it enough to have Reed arrested?” Owen said.

  “Not sure, but I have a feeling whatever is in this post office box might be.” She squinted at the key. “It says Parcel and Postage. I think that’s a chain of stores. We can look up the address of the closest one.”

  Owen snapped his head toward the window, hastening over and pulling back the curtain.

  Ella’s nerves tightened. “What is it?”

  “I don’t see anyone, but I’m sure I heard a noise.” He let the curtain fall into place. “Let’s get back to the ranch and call Larraby before we do any more sleuthing.”

  * * *

  As Ella drove, Owen read as much as h
e could from the letter. The writing was messy and hurried, and some spots were blurred and the paper warped as if she had been crying. “She’s listed Lancelot and the date she purchased him, his previous owner, etc. How much she got in the insurance settlement when he died from ‘colic.’ She has that in quotes.” Bile rose in his throat. “Maybe Bruce arranged for someone to kill Trailblazer in a way that mimics death from colic.” He stared. “Does that ring any bells for you?”

  Ella’s skin paled to an even lighter shade. “You don’t suppose he arranged the same scenario for other horses too? Like Trailblazer?”

  “It got Macy out of her financial trouble at the perfect moment.” He scanned the pages. “No people listed but there are five other names here, Double T, Winston, Firecracker, Hot Cocoa, Nibbles. They sound like horses. Maybe others who Reed arranged to have killed for a cut of the insurance money?” He sat forward as he read the next blurred phrase. “It says, ‘see taped conversations’ and there’s a string of dates.” Electric sparks coursed through his muscles. “That’s it. That must be what’s in the post office box. She recorded conversations they had where he admitted to arranging for the horses to be killed.”

  “Would that be admissible in court?”

  “Maybe not, but it’s enough to launch a formal investigation that will bring in the insurance people. Toughest marine drill sergeant I ever had was a former insurance investigator.”

  She squeezed the wheel. “It’s almost too much to believe that we might actually have proof. It might not help my case, but at least people will be looking into Bruce Reed’s activities.”

  “It’s about time something went our way.”

  Rain spattered the windshield and clouds darkened the sky prematurely. The storm arrived in earnest as they turned onto the gravel drive to Gold Bar Ranch.

  “See? What did I tell you about the weather? You...” he began as a gunshot split the air. He was out of the truck and running before the echo died away. The gunshot had come from the house.

  * * *

  “Mama,” Owen shouted as he pounded across the porch and kicked open the door. He almost fell over Keegan, sprawled facedown on the area rug.

  Legs quaking, he dropped to his knees, Ella scrambling to his side.