One Last Chance

by Sherryl Woods

  If discovering that she had feelings for Grady had surprised her, if the depth of her desire for him had startled her, then the discovery that she trusted him was the most shocking thing of all. Feelings—lust—had nothing to do with common sense or logic. They were matters of the heart.

  But trust, especially when it involved an old enemy, required more. It meant that both her heart and her head had examined the facts and found Grady Blackhawk trustworthy.

  But what if you’re wrong? a tiny voice in her head demanded. What if Grady is simply sneakier and more clever than you ever imagined?

  Then she would pay a terrible price in guilt and self-recriminations, she concluded. But it was her decision to make, not the Hansons’, not even Caleb’s.

  And the bottom line was that she had learned to trust her instincts where Grady was concerned. He might want her ranch, but he was not the one out to hurt her.

  Someone was, though, and she intended to find out who.

  * * *

  Though the prospect was very distasteful to her, Karen called Caleb’s parents in Arizona first thing in the morning. They knew more about the old feud between the Oldhams and the Hansons than she did. They also knew more about the high hopes Maggie Fletcher had had where Caleb was concerned.

  When Caleb’s father answered the phone, she couldn’t hide her relief. He would give her straight, thoughtful answers, not a diatribe against Grady, which was all she could have expected from Mrs. Hanson.

  “This is old news, but I assume you’ve got a reason for asking about it,” Carl Hanson said.

  “There’s been another incident,” Karen told him. “The fence along the highway was deliberately cut this week.”

  “That’s a pretty obvious place for a person who wanted to do any real damage, don’t you think? You were bound to spot the problem.”

  That hadn’t occurred to Karen before, but he was right. Anyone hoping to cause a serious loss of her herd would have cut the fence in some place less likely to be discovered until it was too late.

  “What do you think that means? Was it just a warning?”

  “Or maybe some kids up to mischief,” he suggested.

  “If this was the only thing, maybe,” she said thoughtfully. “But coupled with the incidents in the past, I don’t think so.”

  “Could have been it was meant to throw suspicion on Grady, so they wanted you to find it right off,” he said.

  “That makes sense,” she agreed. “But who would gain anything by that? Has anyone else ever expressed interest in buying the ranch? Are the Oldhams in any position to buy it to protect the water rights?”

  “Not unless they’ve had a sudden windfall,” he said. “Besides, that agreement worked out years ago is airtight. They don’t have anything to worry about.”

  “What about Maggie Fletcher?” Karen asked reluctantly.

  Caleb’s father sighed. “Ah, yes, Maggie. Now there’s a sad situation. Her father was expecting her to pair up with Caleb. He wanted to see the two ranches joined. I don’t know which of them was more disappointed when Caleb chose you. I know her father blamed her, told her she wasn’t woman enough to catch Caleb. I always thought the way he treated her was downright cruel.”

  “Would she hate me enough to try to ruin the ranch?”

  “She wouldn’t, but that father of hers is another story. I wouldn’t put anything past Jack Fletcher. I told Caleb to keep an eye on him when those last incidents took place, but you know my son. He didn’t want to believe it. More likely, he just wanted to believe Grady was behind it.”

  This wasn’t the first time that Karen had gotten the feeling that the animosity between Caleb and Grady ran deeper than one man’s desire to own land belonging to the other.

  “Was there more going on between Caleb and Grady than I know about?” she asked.

  Mr. Hanson hesitated. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “The feelings and bitterness seemed to run awfully deep, at least on Caleb’s part. Was it just about the ranch?”

  “The ranch is the only thing I know about,” Caleb’s father insisted, but something in his voice suggested he was holding back.

  That false note lingered in her head long after she’d hung up the phone. When Grady arrived, she poured him a cup of coffee before he could protest, then gestured toward a chair.

  “I need to get to the bottom of something,” she said as he regarded her warily.

  “Okay.”

  “How well did you and Caleb know each other?”

  “We didn’t,” Grady said tersely.

  “Oh, come on. You must have. I know you contacted him more than once about buying the ranch.”

  “That doesn’t mean I knew him, just that I had my lawyer make repeated inquiries.”

  She regarded him skeptically. “You never even met?”

  “Never.”

  “But he hated you,” she said. “Hate that deep doesn’t come from some intellectual dispute over a piece of land.”

  “Some people are passionate about what’s theirs,” Grady countered.

  She studied him intently. “There’s something you’re not telling me, isn’t there? You’re as tight-lipped about this as Carl Hanson.”

  He regarded her with surprise but not dismay. “You asked him about this?”

  “Just this morning. He wouldn’t answer me, either.”

  “No, I imagine he wouldn’t,” Grady said, his expression wry.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Can’t you drop this? It’s not important. If Caleb had wanted you to know, he would have shared it with you. The same with Carl.”

  “Well, you’re here and they’re not,” she said with a hint of exasperation. “Tell me, Grady. Why did my husband have it in for you? Why was he so determined that you not get this land?”

  “That’s easy,” he said, though he didn’t meet her gaze. “Because it was his and he was possessive.”

  “You’re talking about the land, but it went beyond that. I can see it in your eyes.”

  “You’re imagining things.”

  Karen lost patience. “Dammit, Grady, tell me. Was it about a woman? Did you and Caleb fight over some woman?”

  Grady sighed heavily. “Not the way you mean,” he said finally. “And it wasn’t me.”

  “You’re talking in riddles,” she accused.

  His lips curved slightly at that. “Apparently it’s a family trait. My grandfather does that, too, when he doesn’t want to answer a question.”

  “Well, I intend to keep coming back to this one until you give me a straight answer,” she said. “So why not get it over with?”

  “Okay,” he said with obvious reluctance. “This was about my father and Anna Hanson.”

  Stunned, Karen stared at him. “Caleb’s mother?”

  He nodded.

  “But how? When? Before she married Carl?”

  “No, unfortunately, it was much later. They almost ran off together.”

  Karen couldn’t seem to take it in. “Anna Hanson almost abandoned her family to run away with your father?”

  “They would have left, if my father hadn’t been killed in an accident on his way to get her. He was late because he had stopped to try to explain to me why he wouldn’t be home. She blamed me for his death. It’s irrational, I know, but she couldn’t blame herself.”

  “My God,” Karen whispered. “And Caleb knew?”

  Grady nodded. “He knew. He’d seen them together, and he found her bags packed on the night of the accident.”

  “What about Carl?”

  “He knew as well, but he acted as if nothing had happened. For the sake of his pride, I suppose, he pretended that Anna had never had any intention of going anywhere with my father.
He and Anna just went along with their marriage.”

  Karen thought about her husband, about the occasional dark looks he had cast at his mother, about the tension that sometimes flared between him and his father. He’d never been able to bring himself to blame either of them for the choices they had made back then, and Charlie Blackhawk was dead, so he had blamed Grady, instead. All of that anger and hurt had been directed at the only person who’d been as innocent of blame as Caleb himself had been.

  “What about your mother?” Karen asked Grady. “How did she take all of this?”

  His expression turned grim. “She wasn’t as good at pretending. She turned to alcohol. I don’t think she had a sober minute for ten years before it finally caught up with her and she died.”

  “How old were you when she died?”

  “Nineteen.”

  “Which means you were only nine when all of this happened?”

  He nodded.

  “And Caleb was thirteen?”

  “An age when a boy is all caught up in his own raging hormones and doesn’t want to think about his parents as sexual beings. He certainly doesn’t want to think of his mother wanting to be with a man other than his father in that way.”

  “But to blame you,” Karen said. “How could he?”

  “It wasn’t logical, unless you believe the sins of the fathers live on in their sons, though I doubt any of that was on Caleb’s mind. I was just an easy target for all that pent-up rage he couldn’t express to the people involved.”

  Pent-up rage, Karen thought, wondering if that had ultimately been the stress that had damaged Caleb’s heart. Was it possible that even years later, he had quite literally died of a broken heart?

  As saddened as she was by that, she couldn’t help being glad that the secret was finally out. It helped her to see everything in a new light. It helped to know that Caleb’s judgment of Grady had been so terribly misdirected. Wasn’t that what Stella had hinted at so many weeks ago? Obviously she had known the whole story.

  Perhaps if Caleb had ever gotten to know the man he considered an enemy, he would have seen that Grady was as much a victim as Caleb himself had been. And the fierce competitiveness and anger that only Caleb had felt might not have contributed to his death.

  CHAPTER 11

  It was almost noon by the time Grady and Karen were able to drive over to see the Fletchers and Oldhams. They were about to leave when they heard a commotion outside. Grady opened the back door just in time to see Dooley thundering toward the house, his horse at a full gallop. The old man looked mad enough to break a few boards in two with his bare hands. He reined in his horse just a few feet from where Grady and Karen stood.

  “Dooley, what is it?” Karen asked, regarding him with alarm. “Where’s Hank?”

  “I left him in the pasture,” he said, casting a worried frown at Grady. “Could I have a word with you?”

  “Hold it,” Karen commanded. “If you speak to anybody around here, Dooley Jenkins, it’ll be me. What’s happened? Is Hank okay?”

  Dooley’s expression turned resigned. “He’s fine, but that prize bull you just bought, he’s not so good.”

  Grady saw the color drain out of Karen’s face. He put an arm around her waist, but she seemed oblivious to it. He could feel her trembling. This was just one more blow to a woman who’d faced too many of them.

  “What happened? Is he sick?” she asked.

  “Not sick,” Dooley said. “Shot.”

  Karen gasped. “Shot? By whom? Was it an accident?”

  “Not unless you believe people are taking target practice in your pasture and that bull just got in the way,” Dooley said with disgust. “Looks to me like somebody took dead aim at him.”

  “Is he alive?” Grady asked.

  “Barely.”

  “I’ll call the vet,” Karen said at once, and disappeared inside, her spine straight, her familiar resolve back in place.

  When she’d gone, Grady regarded the old man intently. “Any chance he’ll make it?”

  “Not much of one, if you ask me. Whoever did this knew what he was doing. He got him good. Calling the vet’s probably a waste of time and money.”

  “Still, she has to try or she’ll never forgive herself,” Grady concluded. “I’ll saddle the horses and ride out with her. Can you wait and bring the vet out when he gets here?”

  “Will do,” Dooley agreed. “Then I want to help you find the son of a bitch who did this. The missus was counting on that bull for breeding. Paid an arm and a leg for him.”

  “Let’s not worry about that now,” Grady said grimly. “I can spare a couple of bulls. I imagine Frank Davis will offer to help out, too, once his son gets wind of this from Cassie.” He met Dooley’s gaze. “One more thing, from now on Karen doesn’t go anywhere on this ranch without one of us with her.”

  “Got it,” Dooley said, his expression somber. “When you’re not around, me or Hank will stick close by, no matter how much she grumbles about it.”

  Grady grinned. “I imagine she’ll grumble quite a lot.”

  Dooley’s lips twitched. “Yes, indeed. The woman can’t stand to have anybody coddling her. She’s dead set on proving she can handle anything that’s thrown her way. Been that way ever since Caleb died.”

  “I doubt she was counting on this, though,” Grady said. “From what you say, whoever took aim at that bull was up to no good. I don’t want to wait around to see what he has in mind next. I think it’s time to get the sheriff involved.”

  “She won’t thank you for that,” Dooley said.

  Grady figured that was probably an understatement, but he couldn’t afford to worry about Karen’s reaction. It was more important to keep her safe.

  “Once we’re gone, can you call and fill him in?” Grady asked.

  Dooley chuckled. “If you think having me do the deed will save your hide, you’re dead wrong, but I’ll do it. Now get those horses saddled before she comes out here and wants to know why the two of us are lollygagging when there’s a crisis.”

  Dooley seemed to be taking to his role as co-conspirator and self-appointed protector even better than Grady had anticipated. He grinned at the old man.

  “You’re a good person to have around, Dooley.”

  The old man nodded as if the compliment were his due. “Had my doubts about you, when you first started hanging around here, but you ain’t so bad yourself.”

  “What is this, some kind of mutual admiration society?” Karen demanded when she found them both right where she’d left them. Evidently she’d heard the tail end of their conversation, too. “The vet’s on the way. Come on, Grady. I want to get out to that field. Maybe there’s something we can do till he gets here.”

  But there was nothing to be done. By the time they reached Hank, the bull was dead. The hand had tried to stanch the flow of blood with his own shirt, but the effort had been futile.

  Her expression devastated, Karen fell to her knees beside the animal and ran her hand over his blood-soaked chest. “Damn whoever did this,” she whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I don’t care if it was an accident.”

  The last was muttered as if she were clinging desperately to an explanation she could understand.

  Grady glanced at Hank, who subtly shook his head, confirming Dooley’s opinion as well. Grady studied the massive beast and saw what the two men had seen, three distinct wounds. One shot might have been an accident, but three? Not a chance.

  Grady glanced up at the sound of hooves pounding across the field. Looked as if Dooley had been successful in getting the sheriff out here in record time, right along with the veterinarian, whose services were no longer needed.

  Karen rose stiffly from the ground, her complexion pale, bright patches of color in her cheeks and a flash of anger in he
r eyes. Surprise streaked across her face when she spotted the sheriff.

  “Michael, what are you doing here?” she asked as if it weren’t perfectly obvious that someone had alerted him.

  “Dooley called me. Said there was a problem.”

  “Some fool accidentally shot my new bull,” she said.

  “It wasn’t an accident,” Grady said quietly, ignoring the protest forming on Karen’s lips.

  “Oh?” Michael Dunn said, stepping close to examine the animal. “Three bullet wounds. You’re right, Blackhawk. That’s no accident.”

  He glanced at Karen. “Why don’t you tell me what else has been going on out here? I understand there have been a few other incidents.”

  Karen scowled at Dooley, then turned back to the sheriff. “Nothing serious. Some fence was cut.”

  “And an unexpected outbreak of a virus in our herd,” Dooley added pointedly. “That was about a year ago, along with another section of fence destroyed. And a fire that burned out most of the pasture.”

  “Any idea who’s behind it?” Michael asked, his gaze subtly shifting toward Grady.

  “Not me, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Grady told him.

  “It’s no secret that you want this land.”

  “I imagine it’s no secret that I’ve also offered to buy it, fair and square.”

  “That’s true,” Karen said.

  “But you turned him down, am I right?” the sheriff persisted.

  “Yes, but—”

  Michael cut Karen’s protest off in midsentence. “Which means he has an excellent motive for pulling a few stunts that might make you change your mind,” he concluded.

  “Don’t you dare jump to such a ridiculous conclusion,” Karen snapped. “Grady is not behind this. Besides, he was with me when the bull was shot.”

  “He could have paid someone to do that,” the sheriff countered.

  “Then why would he tell me to call you?” Dooley demanded, shrugging when Grady scowled at him. “Better to have her getting all worked up over you insisting on getting the sheriff than having you hauled off to jail, because the sheriff’s got his facts wrong.”