Homicide at Whiskey Gulch

by Elle James

  Trace looked up, his gaze seeking the barn door.

  Lily entered, carrying a bag and drenched. Her blouse lay plastered to her body like a second skin and water dripped off her chin, nose and eyelashes.

  Even as sodden as she was, she was beautiful in Trace’s eyes. And she stood right there in front of him, a smile pulling at her lips. “In case you didn’t know, it’s still raining out there.”

  Matt chuckled. “I think we know.” He pointed at the roof the rain was hammering against.

  “There’s a towel in the tack room,” Trace said. “You can let Patches out now. I’m sure she’s ready.” After his conversation with Matt, his words to her seemed...inadequate.

  Lily dropped the bag at Trace’s feet. “You made good progress in a short amount of time.”

  “This is the hard part,” Matt said. “It won’t take long, once we get going.”

  Lily disappeared into the tack room, leaving the door slightly open to allow Patches to make her escape.

  Trace glanced that way every so often. Patches never came out. At least not while he was watching.

  Lily came out patting her body with a ragged towel and squeezing her ponytail to get the water out. She studied their progress. Lily had been with Trace after he’d been hunting deer and had helped by wrapping the meat in butcher paper. The hog proved to be a lot more of an effort than a deer. But with three of them working together, they completed their work.

  The worst of the lightning had moved past the house, but the rain continued to beat loudly against the roof.

  Lily, Trace and Matt stepped out into nature’s shower and let the rain wash away the dirt, hay and blood.

  “I can’t remember when I’ve been more exhausted or covered in blood,” Lily said.

  “I can,” Matt said, his tone flat, his gaze on the horizon.

  Trace knew exactly how Matt felt. He’d been involved in some bloody battles during his time with Delta Force. But this was Texas, not Afghanistan or Iraq. They’d have good meat in the freezer to last through the winter. If he stayed.

  “We got a lot done,” Trace said. “Now there’s hay to see the horses through the winter.”

  Matt nodded. “And meat for the freezer, enough to feed whoever lives on the ranch.”

  “We’ll have to wait until the other field dries before we can cut the hay for the big round bales needed to get the cattle through the winter. But that effort won’t require tossing bales onto a trailer.”

  Lily raised her hands in the air and stretched, wincing. “Thankfully, all of that can be done by tractors, not human backs.”

  “It will still require a lot of work and we haven’t checked the fences in a while.”

  “I can help with that tomorrow,” Matt said.

  “Don’t you have engines to fix?” Lily asked.

  “I’ll work on them tonight.” Matt’s lips twisted. “That’s what shop lights are for. Fencing needs daylight.”

  Trace wanted to hate the man who was his father’s firstborn son, but he couldn’t. Matt had worked as hard as he had that day. He’d served his country, and he cared about Lily and Trace’s mother. Not that Trace had appreciated his advice on how to handle Lily. But the man’s words roiled around in his head, refusing to be ignored.

  “I bet Mom’s got something amazing ready for dinner,” Trace said. “We’d better get cleaned up.”

  Trace took Lily’s hand and walked with her to the house, rain dripping down his face and into his eyes. He wanted anyone watching to know that she was important to him. The Irishes and Matts of the world would have to back off or suffer his wrath. If he could convince her, Lily was his and he wouldn’t let her go again. Not without a fight.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Lily was first in the shower, rinsing quickly, knowing there were two others who needed hot water to get clean. When she was finished, she dried off quickly, wrapped a towel around her hair and another around her body, and stepped out into the hallway.

  Right into a solid wall of muscles.

  “Oh,” Lily said, her hand rising to rest on Trace’s damp chest.

  He was barefoot, wearing only a pair of jeans, and he was clean.

  Lily frowned. “You had a shower?”

  He tipped his head toward the master bedroom at the end of the hallway. “I used Mom’s shower.” His gaze swept over her bare shoulders, his pupils dilating. “Feel better?”

  She nodded, her cheeks heating. The only thing between her and his hands was the fluffy white towel. She didn’t look up into his eyes, afraid he’d see just how excited she was by his nearness. “Much better. What about Matt? Did he want to jump in?”

  “He grabbed a plate to go and left.”

  Lily frowned. “Was it something we said?”

  Trace smiled. “No. He had work to do at his shop.” He tipped her chin up, forcing her to look at him. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “You were amazing today.” He leaned down and pressed his lips to her forehead. “I’ll rub your back for you, after dinner.”

  She shrugged. “You don’t have to do that.” Though the thought of him rubbing her back and a lot of other places sent shivers of excitement throughout her body. That little bit of anticipation chased away some of the ache in her back.

  “I know I don’t have to.” He touched his lips to her temple. “But I’d like to.”

  Lily closed her eyes and sighed. “Mmm. Sounds nice.” Then she remembered her resolve to leave as soon as the hay was put up. Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, the rain had delayed her departure even more. Now she’d have to wait for as long as it took for the grass to dry enough to mow. Then they’d cut, rake and bale the round bales.

  Then she’d be on her way. To what, she had no idea. For sure, she’d get out of Whiskey Gulch now that Trace was back. If he chose to stay, he needed to marry someone much better than Lily Davidson.

  A hard knot formed in her belly. She couldn’t stick around and watch another woman give Trace the family he deserved.

  As much as she loved when he kissed her, she couldn’t stay and be disappointed all over again. Trace hadn’t come after her in eleven years. What happened last night had been a fling. She was convenient and willing. Lily refused to be a distraction. She wanted more out of life than Trace could give. She deserved someone who loved her so much he’d move heaven and earth for her. He’d come after her and woo her. Life was too short to settle for scraps. She wanted the whole meal.

  Lily stepped backward and out of Trace’s arms.

  He frowned as his hands dropped to his sides. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m starving and can’t go downstairs dressed like this.” She gave him a weak smile, ducked around him and dived through the door of the room she’d shared with him the night before.

  “Lily,” Trace called out.

  She didn’t stop to see what he wanted. Instead, she closed the door and leaned against it. Her heart wanted her to open the door. Her head made her pull her hand away from the knob. “I can’t do this to myself,” she whispered. “I can’t keep loving him.”

  After she’d dressed in jeans and a soft white blouse, she took her time brushing the tangles out of her hair. Purposely procrastinating, hoping he’d eat and go to bed, she finally gave in to her rumbling belly. She had to eat. After burning so many calories hauling hay, she needed to refuel her body.

  Easing the door open, she looked out into the hallway. Bumping into Trace again would ruin her efforts to get her head on straight. The man sent her thoughts whirling. She had to keep it together for the next few days until she could pack up and leave.

  The hallway was empty.

  Lily sighed and eased out of her bedroom and down the stairs. She tiptoed past the study and entered the kitchen on silent feet.

  Rosalynn turned from the stove, hold
ing a mug with a tea bag string hanging over the side. “Lily, honey, I was just about to make you a tray of food and bring it up.”

  “That’s not necessary,” Lily said quietly, glancing over her shoulder, not wanting to run into Trace. Not when her emotions were so overwrought. She wasn’t sure how she’d keep from falling into his arms when that was all she wanted to do.

  “If you’re looking for Trace, he went out to the barn with Irish to check on the animals and that darn cat.” Rosalynn set her mug on the counter. “Sit. I’ll serve up a bowl of the stew I made for dinner.”

  “Thank you,” Lily said. “But I can help myself.”

  “Don’t be silly. You’re bound to be exhausted.”

  “As are you,” Lily protested.

  “I didn’t do as much as you.”

  “You did every bit as much.”

  “Sit.” Rosalynn pointed to the kitchen table. In her “mom” voice, she said, “I insist.”

  Lily grinned. “Yes, ma’am.” She pulled out a chair and sat, releasing a sigh. “It really does feel good to sit.”

  “Uh-huh.” Rosalynn scooped a ladle full of steaming stew into a bowl, grabbed a spoon from a drawer and crossed the kitchen to set them in front of Lily. “Tea?”

  “Please.” Lily inhaled the hearty aroma of stew and nearly fell into it. She was so tired. “I’m hungry, but I don’t know if I’ll stay awake to eat this.” She drew in another breath and closed her eyes. “It smells so good.” She dug the spoon in and carried a heaping helping of beef, carrots and potatoes to her mouth.

  Rosalynn brought over another mug of tea along with her own and sat across the table from Lily. “Eat before you sleep. You worked hard today.”

  Lily nodded and consumed half of the bowl of stew before she paused.

  Rosalynn smiled. “Feel better?”

  “I do.” Lily removed the tea bag from the mug, stirred in a spoonful of sugar and sipped the steaming brew. “This is perfect.”

  “Speaking of perfect...” Rosalynn set her mug on the table. “When are you and Trace going to stop dancing around and realize you two are perfect for each other?”

  As if hit by a strong wind, all of Lily’s thoughts of sleep flew out the window. “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me. I know you love him. Why don’t you tell him?” Rosalynn stared across the table at Lily, an eyebrow cocked in challenge.

  Lily gulped. “I can’t.”

  “Can’t or won’t?” Rosalynn sighed and looked down at her mug. “Look, it’s none of my business what you two do with your lives, but, damn it, I want grandchildren before I die.”

  Her words stabbed Lily right in the heart.

  She wanted children. Trace’s children. Nothing would make her happier. “I don’t think Trace loves me as much as I love him.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Rosalynn looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. “He can’t take his eyes off you. He dogs your every step. If that’s not love, I don’t know what is.”

  “Lust,” Lily suggested. “If he really loved me, he wouldn’t have stayed away for eleven years.”

  “He thought you were married to someone else.”

  “He didn’t bother to find out whether or not I had, or to try to change my mind.” Lily gave Trace’s mother a weak smile. “I deserve someone who loves me enough to fight for me. A man who won’t take bug off for an answer.”

  “You want to marry a stalker.” Rosalynn frowned. “You turned Trace away with a lie. You broke his heart. Why not set the record straight and see where you go from there? What’s it going to hurt?”

  The food in Lily’s belly churned. “What if...?”

  “If you don’t own up to your lie, how will you ever know what he wants?” Rosalynn reached across the table for Lily’s hand. “Lily, I don’t want to see you two suffer. And I want—”

  “Grandchildren.” Lily squeezed Mrs. Travis’s hand. “I know.”

  Rosalynn shook her head. “Yes, I want grandchildren, but more than that, I want to see my child happy. He hasn’t been happy for the past eleven years.” She laughed, the sound less than humorous. “Believe me, a mother knows.” Her smile faded. “And you’ve come to be like the daughter I never had. I want you to be happy, too. I love you, Lily. I don’t want you and Trace to waste another day apart if you were meant to be together.”

  Tears welled in Lily’s eyes. “What if we’re not meant to be together?” She swallowed hard.

  The clump of boots on the porch heralded the return of Trace and Irish from the barn.

  Lily brushed tears from her cheeks. “I have to go.”

  Rosalynn retained her hold on her hand. “Think about it, will ya?”

  With a nod, Lily pulled her hand free and raced out of the kitchen, up the stairs and into her bedroom. Once inside, she closed the door, then leaned her back against the panel and slid to the floor, tears coursing down her cheeks.

  Lily had loved Trace for what felt like all of her life. She couldn’t bear it if she told him she loved him and he didn’t love her in return.

  * * *

  TRACE HELD THE door for Irish and followed him into the kitchen. Everything was as it should have been in the barn. No one had jumped out to hurt them. The buddy system seemed to be working.

  His mother sat at the table, staring toward the opposite door leading into the rest of the house.

  “Everything all right?” Trace asked.

  She glanced at him. “You tell me.” His mother pushed to her feet. “Your father is dead, someone is attacking the people who live and work on this ranch, and you’re an idiot.” She stalked out of the kitchen.

  Trace followed her into the living room, where she took down the photo on the fireplace mantel of her wedding day almost forty years ago. “Why did you have to leave me?” she cried, tears rolling down her cheeks as she sank onto the sofa, hugging the framed photo to her chest.

  Trace sat next to his mother and slipped an arm around her shoulders.

  She turned and buried her face against his shirt. For a long moment, she let the tears fall.

  His heart aching, Trace held his mother, knowing how much she’d relied on his father to be there, protect her and run the ranch. Now she was on her own and dealing with a much more difficult situation. He plucked a tissue from the box on the end table and handed it to her.

  His mother wiped her eyes and blew her nose before she finally said, “I’m sorry I called you an idiot.”

  “I’m sure you have every right to call me that. I’ve been an idiot for more than ten years,” he offered.

  “Yes, you have,” she agreed.

  His chest tightened. “I should have cleared the air with Dad a long time ago. I hate to think he died believing I didn’t love him.”

  His mother frowned. “He knew. He felt the same. But that wasn’t why I was calling you an idiot.”

  Trace narrowed his eyes and stared down at his mother. “No? Then what else have I been an idiot about?”

  She shook her head. “You have regrets that you didn’t patch things up with your father before he died, but you’re not looking at what you could do while you still can.”

  “I can’t change things between me and Dad.”

  His mother smiled. “No, but you can change things between you and people who are still among the living.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Do I need to fix things between me and you?”

  His mother rolled her eyes and sighed. “Of course not. You can be just as hardheaded and dense as your father. When it comes to the women in your life, you really don’t have a clue.” She set the photo on the coffee table, pushed to her feet and turned to face him. “You love her. It’s as clear as the nose on your face. Why don’t you tell her, before you lose her?”

  “Oh... We’re not talking about you and Dad.” Trace couldn’t try to
pretend he didn’t know who his mother was talking about. “That’s complicated.”

  “Sweetheart, it’s a lot less complicated than you think.” She touched his shoulder. “I love you, Trace. I don’t want you to lose this chance to be happy.” Her jaw firmed. “Don’t screw this up. Now, I’m going to bed.” With that, she left the living room and climbed the stairs.

  Trace stared at the photograph of his mother and father and wished he could have a marriage like theirs. They’d been together for almost forty years, fighting, bickering and loving each other all that time. Yet they always overcame their differences and never went to bed mad.

  Trace’s heart tugged hard. His mother had lost not only her husband, but also her best friend.

  When Lily had told Trace she was going to marry Matt, Trace had lost the woman he’d loved and his best friend. Dating after Lily had been a useless effort. Once burned, he’d been twice shy, unwilling to risk his heart again, only to have some woman wreck his emotions the way Lily had. He’d been so devastated, it had taken him years and a number of dangerous deployments to harden his heart and get over her.

  Only seeing her again had brought back everything he’d thought he’d overcome. He couldn’t deny how he felt. His chest hurt and his gut clenched every time he thought of her with someone else.

  Hell, he still loved her.

  His mother was right. He needed to tell her how he felt and ask her if she felt the same. The sooner he did that, the better off he’d be. If she didn’t return his feelings, she’d tell him. Then he could get on with his life.

  With this plan in mind, he headed for her bedroom, taking the stairs to the upper landing two at a time. Now that he was ready to move forward, he wanted to get it over with, rip the bandage off and see if the wound had healed.

  He hurried past the door to his room and paused in front of Lily’s. Raising his hand to knock, he froze.