by Dana Mentink
“Keegan...”
“I know. You don’t want me involved. I’m giving you a ride because your car is wrecked and you can’t drive. I’m offering up a night’s sleep and a meal to someone who could use them. That’s just good manners, and if there’s one thing I’ve been taught, it’s good manners.”
“Let me guess. Your mama is a good teacher?”
“My mama is more like a trick roping master. She’ll smile and rope you into something and make you think you tied the knots yourself.”
She smiled and he sensed her resolve weakening.
“You can get to know my brothers better and Betsy, that’s Ella’s sister. She had a stroke when she was a kid and she’s in a wheelchair but it’s amazing the things Ella’s helped her learn. Besides, I’m starved. They stopped refilling the hospital cookies once they figured out it was me eating them all. It’s Friday, so Mama will be making fried chicken. There is no one on this planet who makes better fried chicken than Mama, though I’m partial to her lasagna, too. Something about the way she combines the cheeses, I think.”
“All right,” Tracy said. “I’m hungry, too, and you’re killing me. Are you sure she won’t mind an unexpected houseguest?”
“I am absolutely positive, but I’ll text her so she’ll know to set an extra place.” He kicked up the speed. “Besides, I can show you the best cutting horse you’ve ever been privileged to clap eyes on. Trained her myself.”
“Your modesty is impressive.”
“I speak the truth and you oughta know since you’re a bloodstock agent.” He shot a look at her. “You any good?”
A sigh escaped her. “Oh, yeah,” she said. “I’m the best there is.” She leaned against the headrest, the sunlight gilding her profile. Heart-shaped face, full lips, narrow chin, framed by hair the color of summer wheat. Soft and strong at the same time.
His breath hitched up for a moment and a grin crept over him.
Just friends, Keegan. Just friends.
SEVEN
The Gold Bar Ranch was impressive even in the darkness. Moonlight revealed acres of grass, neatly tended fences, a lovely stable and corrals sprawled alongside a cozy ranch-style home framed in Christmas lights. Nearby was a barn, outlined in golden lights with beribboned pine boughs above each wide door.
“Mama loves lights, so a Christmas Eve wedding was just the ticket,” Keegan said as they pulled in. “Took me and my brothers an entire day to string ’em. Surprised we didn’t blow the whole transformer grid to the town. Usually don’t light the barn, but that’s where the wedding is going to take place, so we’re going the extra mile.”
The scent of wood smoke tickled her nose as the winter air cut right through her thin jacket. The belongings in her duffel bag were still custody of the police department until they finished cataloging everything. She’d only visited her property twice, enough to bring in a few changes of clothes, a bed for herself, one for her grandfather and an extra cot in the vain hope that she could get her little sister, Lily, to visit someday, if her mother would allow it. That was a foolish expense, but it comforted her to know that cot was there...ready and waiting. She’d intended to gather up supplies after her stop at the horse center.
She felt again the claw of fear as memories scratched at the edges of her mind, begging to be let in. Keegan put his hand on the small of her back, and she realized she’d stopped walking.
“Okay?” Keegan inquired.
With a nod, she continued up the sweeping gravel drive. “Yes.” If it could be considered okay to narrowly avoid being murdered twice since she’d hit town.
He pushed open the door and the warmth and light issuing from the interior almost made her cry. With such a tight-knit family, all eyes would be on her. The thought shallowed her breathing and there she was again, a teenager with an ex-con father. All the attention, all the judgment. She’d learned to covet invisibility, flying under the radar, and this was just about the opposite of that. She wanted to crawl inside her shell and lug herself right back to the truck.
And do what?
She could not drive, not legally, for another three days. And though she would not admit it to Keegan, the thought of spending the night alone on her isolated property scared her. Then again, so did the thought of experiencing this cozy Christmas setting.
Last year, after the lung cancer had started to smother her father, he’d been too sick to leave his bed, so, for Christmas, she’d brought in a tiny, one-foot-tall pine tree. He could smell it, he’d said, even if he could hardly hold his head up.
Grief turned her feet to lead. Christmas this year without her father would be bad enough, but with everything that had happened... Her eyes stung with unshed tears.
Get yourself together, Tracy.
Keegan slung an arm around her shoulders and propelled her up the porch steps. “It’s okay. They don’t bite, except maybe for Owen, but Ella’s smoothed some of his edges away.”
She wanted to resist, but she was just so tired and her head throbbed like it had when she’d been kicked by the horse.
In the next moment she was escorted through the cozy sitting room, complete with ivy-trimmed fireplace in which some logs crackled. Then it was into the kitchen, where a silver-haired woman, trim and petite, pulled pieces of fried chicken from a pan and set them on an enormous platter. A porcelain nativity scene glistened on the sideboard, surrounded by fat, red Christmas candles, flickering merrily.
The woman turned and put down her tongs, her smile broad. “Well, here you are. Keegan messaged to say he was bringing you. How are you feeling? I’m Keegan’s mother. Please call me Evie.”
For one long moment Tracy wanted nothing more than to throw herself into the arms of this capable mother, a woman whose house glowed with Christmas cheer, who cooked fried chicken and welcomed strangers without a second thought.
Evie wrapped her in a fried-chicken-scented hug and Tracy closed her eyes, breathing hard. “I’m very sorry to intrude,” she managed to say.
The man who must be Evie’s husband looked up from setting the table. “Not at all. The last friend Keegan brought home for dinner was an orphaned jackrabbit, so we’re thrilled to have a young lady instead.”
“It was a very friendly jackrabbit,” Keegan said.
“I’m Tom Thorn. Please sit down. You’ve had a long day.”
He didn’t know the half of it. If she really allowed herself to reconstruct the events of the past forty-eight hours, she’d no doubt fall apart at the seams.
Evie took a cow bell from the counter and clanged it. “Now they’ll come running. Easier than yelling.”
Two men came in from the fields, twins she guessed, though not identical. Both took off their hats and nodded to her.
“Jack,” the taller one said, extending a hand. “Pleased to formally meet you.” His voice was soft, shy almost. “Sorry my fiancée, Shannon, isn’t here. She’s got another week of her ER residency down south.” The pride shone clearly in his smile.
“Owen,” said the other, broader around the shoulders, with hair cut military short. He shook her hand, his own so big it almost engulfed hers completely. “We met, actually, but you were unconscious at the time.” His look was intense but not unfriendly, his bearing military. A Marine, she remembered, proud that she had actually recalled some snippet of conversation. “I hope you are recovered from your accident, ma’am.”
“Tracy. And yes, I’m just tired.” She did not add the information she knew he wanted, making him ask.
“Did you remember what you saw at the horse center?”
The kitchen went silent before Evie clucked at her son. “Later, Owen. She said she’s tired.”
He didn’t comment, but Tracy knew he was right to ask. It was the giant elephant in the room. Did she remember the face of the killer? Or the identity of the victim?
“I...I actually can�
��t remember much about that night. Not yet.”
He gave her a long look and she was sure he was weighing the possible ramifications of what she’d said. It was all too much, the tension simmering just under the surface of their polite demeanor. She was grateful when they settled into chairs around the table.
A small redheaded woman with a plethora of freckles joined them, wheeling in a lady who, Tracy presumed, had to be her sister. All four men stood as the redhead positioned the wheelchair at the table before kissing Owen and taking a seat in the chair he pulled out for her, next to Keegan’s mother. Their formal cowboy manners made Tracy’s heart throb. She’d never been treasured by a man except her father and grandfather, in his own gruff way. Did Ella know how blessed she was? As Ella shot an adoring look at Owen, cupping a hand over his cheek, Tracy decided that she did.
“I’m Ella,” she said by way of introduction, looking at Tracy, “and this is my sister, Betsy. We don’t actually live here at the moment—it just seems like we do.”
“Soon enough we’ll have our own place. Put an offer down last week.” Pride shone on Owen’s face. “A nice piece of land fifteen minutes from here. Got a house on it already with enough room for the three of us, but we’ll expand as we need to.”
Ella blushed and he kissed her on the forehead.
“Barrett phoned and said Shelby has a case of indigestion.” Evie laughed. “I remember I had indigestion for nine months when I was expecting the twins.”
“Owen’s fault,” Jack said.
Evie laughed. “Anyway, they won’t be joining us for dinner tonight.”
Tom prayed a simple prayer and the platter of chicken began its journey around the table, along with a pile of fluffy mashed potatoes and peas. She helped herself to the potatoes and peas and passed them along.
“You forgot your chicken,” Keegan said, ready to grab a piece for her plate.
“No, thank you,” she said. “It looks delicious but...”
“Oh, really, honey—there’s plenty. Don’t feel shy,” Evie said.
Tracy felt her cheeks burn as they all looked curiously at her. “I’m... I don’t want to be rude, but I’m a vegetarian.”
There were several round-eyed looks, the roundest from Keegan. “You don’t eat meat?”
“No.”
“Like...ever?”
“Not since I was ten.”
“Well, how are you still upright?” His look was so incredulous she giggled while Evie scolded him.
“Keegan Thorn. What she eats is her business and you’re not to call attention to it.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, but his look was still befuddled.
“Not to worry, Tracy,” Evie said. “Owen’s Marine friend stayed with us for two months and he was a vegan. I had to read up on that one. Vegetarian fare is easy.” She got to her feet and returned with a bowl of plastic-wrapped three-bean salad. “Here you go. Protein.”
“You didn’t have to...”
She waved an airy hand. “I made some for church. I know my way around a bean.”
“That she does,” Tom said.
“And Christmas cookies,” Keegan added. “Did you make some with the gumdrops in them?”
“You mean another batch, since you raided them before they even cooled?” Evie eyed him with an arched brow.
“I didn’t eat them by myself. Ella and Owen helped.”
Owen laughed. “We had to content ourselves with the crumbs you left behind.”
After the laughter died away, they dug into their meals and Tracy felt some strength return as her appetite fired to life. The mashed potatoes were creamy and glistening with melted butter, and the vinegary bean salad made her taste buds sing.
The conversation shifted between ranch details, lively discussions about Keegan’s cutting horse, and the new mares the ranch had just received to train and board for clients. One thousand acres and sixty horses made for a lot of chatter. She noticed that Ella was eyeing her curiously over the top of her glass of iced tea.
Tracy began to squirm, as she always did when attention was riveted on her. As she took a sip of iced tea, Ella snapped her fingers. “Tracy Wilson. I finally figured it out.”
“Figured...what out?”
“I know you.”
“You do? But I don’t remember meeting you.”
Ella raised an eyebrow, looking as though she were putting together an intricate puzzle in her mind.
Tracy’s stomach jumped. What had Ella remembered? And what else had Tracy forgotten?
* * *
Keegan cocked his head at Ella. “Did you two meet sometime?”
“Yes and no.”
Tracy looked from Ella to Keegan, a fearful sheen in her eyes that made Keegan’s breath catch. “Let’s have it, Ella.”
She pulled her phone from her pocket and thumbed the screen. “A month ago you sent me an email. My full name is Joella Cahill, so you didn’t put the names together.”
“Joella Cahill?” Tracy toyed with her napkin. “The farrier. Of course. I contacted you because I was coming to Copper Creek for the horse show and you are a well-respected farrier.”
“Yes, she is,” Owen said. “The best.”
Ella blushed. “You asked me if I would take a look at a few horses for you, give my evaluation on their hoof health.”
Tracy nodded, relieved. “I make it a point to seek out experts whenever I can. I know the basics, but a good farrier can tell a horse’s whole life history from their hooves, it seems to me.” She frowned as a detail snapped into place. “We were going to meet.”
“Tomorrow, at the Mother Lode,” Ella said. “You said you’d confirm a time the day before, but I didn’t hear back.”
Keegan pushed back in his chair. “Her plans were changed without her consent.” He felt the dark rage slither around in his belly again.
“I’m sorry. I lost my phone, or I would have remembered when I checked my calendar.”
“What about the vet?” Ella asked.
Tracy shook her head. “What vet?”
Ella turned the phone around so they could both see. “There was supposed to be a third person at our meeting. A veterinarian.” Her coppery brows drew together. “A woman, Dr. Nan Ridley. I’d never worked with her before, but you said in your message she was on staff at the Mother Lode for the Silver Spurs show.”
“That’s right. I can’t think why I didn’t remember earlier. My memory is like Swiss cheese since the accident.”
Keegan had the search started before either of his brothers could pull out their phones. He pulled up the website for the Yuletide Silver Spurs Horse Show and selected the tab marked Staff. “I see Mitch Arnold here, a stable manager. Regina Parker, a publicity person. And some miscellaneous people. Hang on. The staff veterinarian is a guy named Hal Severin, not Nan Ridley.”
“Maybe I made a mistake in my email.” Tracy’s brow creased. “But I must have contacted Nan if I was setting up a meeting.” She rubbed her forehead. “I wish I had my phone, or my laptop. It’s up at the property.”
Owen pushed his phone in front of her. “I did an internet search. There is a local vet named Nan Ridley in Parkersville, about fifteen miles south of us. Here’s her picture.”
Tracy angled the phone to the light. The face jarred something to life. Crying out, she dropped it onto the table with a clatter, her skin pale as moonlight.
Everyone leaned in, but Tracy turned her horrified gaze on Keegan. A dark realization clouded the brilliant hazel of her eyes.
“I remembered just now. I’ve seen her before. That’s... I think that’s the woman I saw being murdered.”
EIGHT
Nan Ridley peered back at Keegan from the phone screen. The long dark hair, the brown eyes, full mouth. Snatches of that night came back in flickering filmstrip moments, and he recalled
the terror evident on Tracy’s face when he’d first seen her heading into the train station. Maybe she was wrong about Nan, about what she’d seen, but he had the dreadful sensation that he was looking at the smiling photo of a dead woman.
Tracy pushed back from the table and stumbled away, would have fallen if Keegan hadn’t caught her around the waist and steered her into a stuffed chair by the fireplace in the sitting room. The others followed, uncertain what to do. She sat there shivering. Evie brought her a blanket, which Keegan arranged over her lap, but it did not seem to warm her.
Owen stepped into the kitchen to call the police station.
Keegan knelt next to her and put a hand on her knee. “You remember?”
“I’m so afraid, Keegan. I...saw her murdered.” Her breaths came in little panicked bursts. “I wish with everything inside me that I was wrong. I still can’t bring up the details of the killer’s face.”
“You will,” he said. “Give yourself time.”
“Time?” Her teeth chattered. “Time for the killer to find me before I can remember?” Hysteria crept into her voice and she bit her lip, struggling for control.
“No one is going to hurt you.” He reached for her shaking fingers, rolling them in his. “I won’t let them.”
She swallowed hard and clamped her jaws together.
Evie brought in a steaming mug and pressed it into her grasp. “Decaf. Once you’re warmed up, you can take a hot shower and tumble right into bed. You can use Keegan’s room and he can bunk with Jackie.”
Jack rolled his eyes. “Great. I’ll be up when he needs his midnight snack.”
“If you’re nice, I’ll make you one, too. My bologna, cheese and pickles sandwich is legendary.” He winked at Tracy as he shot the comeback at his brother. That garnered a tiny quirk of a smile from her.
He sat close, one ear on the conversation taking place in the fringes of the room. His family gathered in the firelight and set about their amateur sleuthing. Owen was jotting notes on a yellow pad while Jack, Ella and Tom hunted for information about Nan Ridley on their phones.
