Homicide at Whiskey Gulch

by Elle James

  For a man who’d charged into battle and stared death in the eye, Trace was suddenly more afraid than he’d ever been.

  He closed his eyes, sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. He wouldn’t know until he asked. Forcing his hand to move, he tapped softly on the door and waited.

  A moment passed...then two...

  “Lily?” he called out softly.

  Another few seconds later and no response came from inside her room.

  Trace’s hand dropped to the doorknob and he twisted it.

  The door opened.

  He poked his head inside and whispered, “Lily?”

  The lights were off. A shadowy lump in the bed didn’t move.

  Crossing the room, Trace came to a halt beside her bed and stared down at her in the starlight streaming through the window beside her, glinting off her hair, turning it a gray blue in the night.

  She lay curled on her side, a hand tucked beneath her cheek, her breathing deep and steady.

  The woman was sound asleep. After hauling hay and helping dress a hog, she had to be beyond exhausted.

  Now that he’d decided to open up about his feelings, Trace wanted to shake her awake and tell her. But he couldn’t bring himself to wake her. She needed to sleep, to recharge her tired body.

  Bending over her, he pressed a featherlight kiss to her forehead. “I love you, Lily Davidson,” he whispered. “I always have.”

  Her brow puckered slightly, but she didn’t open her eyes and respond.

  Disappointed that he’d have to wait and say it again, Trace straightened and backed out of the room, pausing at the door to look at her one more time. Finally, he pulled the door closed and descended the stairs, too wound up to sleep.

  He entered his father’s study and sat behind the desk.

  They’d been so worried about getting the hay cut and stored, he hadn’t thought about the business side of running the ranch. Not that he felt like looking at accounts, but someone had to get a handle on things. His father had always been the one to handle the books.

  Unopened mail littered his father’s desktop. Trace glanced at the senders and sorted the envelopes into a pile for bills and another for miscellaneous. He’d go through them tomorrow.

  One by one, he opened the drawers. In the top right-hand drawer, he found several envelopes addressed to his APO location when he’d been deployed to Afghanistan. His last assignment before coming home for his father’s funeral.

  Curious, he turned over the first one. It hadn’t been sealed, nor did it have a stamp on the front.

  Trace pulled out a letter, folded neatly into thirds.

  When he unfolded it, his father’s bold handwriting filled the paper in thick strokes.

  The first words at the top captured his attention and made him drop back in his father’s chair.

  Dear Trace,

  I should have written you as soon as you left to join the army. I should have sent letters while you were going through basic combat training. I should have been there for your graduation. Arrogance has a way of making you a lesser person without even trying. I wish I could take back all the wasted years and start over in my relationship with you.

  I’d start with telling you a few truths.

  I was wrong.

  I should never have assumed that just because you were my son, that you’d stay and work the ranch and love it as much as I have. Whiskey Gulch Ranch was my grandfather’s dream, my father’s life and now mine. It didn’t have to be yours. I know that now. You have every right to follow your own path.

  Sadly, I can’t change the past. But I hope that you can forgive this old man for some of the harsh things he said.

  I was wrong.

  You are a smart, motivated, hardworking man. No matter the career you choose to pursue, you will succeed.

  I was wrong about your sweetheart, Lily. She is not the product of her lineage. Or perhaps she is. Because of who her parents are, she’s become a strong, independent and caring young woman. I know now I would have been proud to welcome her into our family as your wife. I wish I hadn’t been so pigheaded and obstinate when you first showed interest in her. I hope someday to make it up to her, and to you, for ruining things between the two of you.

  Above all, I want you to know how very proud I am of all you have accomplished in the army. I can only hope to understand the training, dedication and commitment it takes to live the life of a Delta Force soldier.

  Son, I love you and want you to live the life you choose. If that’s remaining in Delta Force, I am at peace with it. You should not be saddled with the responsibility of this ranch. If you choose someday to return and run Whiskey Gulch Ranch, you know I will be happy. But only if you are.

  Well, enough of my rambling. I wish you good health and happiness from the bottom of my heart.

  All my love,

  Dad

  Trace’s heart squeezed so hard in his chest, he thought it might explode. His eyes stung and the hand holding the letter shook.

  All the years of anger and disappointment fell away in that one letter.

  In that moment, Trace wished he could have had one more conversation with his father. One more chance to mend the fences, to make things right between them. His father had redeemed his side through his letter. But he’d died not knowing that Trace had forgiven him and loved him.

  Regret ate a hole in his gut and reminded him that he couldn’t waste a single moment wallowing in the past. He had to live in the present and ensure the future wasn’t lost as well. He had to make it right with Lily before he could get on with his life. He prayed he had time. Living to the next day wasn’t guaranteed.

  His father had proved that.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Lily woke early the next morning with a headache like nobody’s business. Quietly, she dressed, grabbed her boots, and tiptoed out of her room and down the stairs, well before the sun rose in the eastern sky.

  She hoped to get outside and take care of the animals before anyone else got out of bed.

  Sounds from the kitchen made her turn in that direction.

  Rosalynn stood at the stove, laying strips of bacon into a frying pan.

  “You’re up extra early.” Lily sat in one of the chairs at the kitchen table and slid her right foot into a boot.

  Rosalynn looked over her shoulder with a weak smile. “Couldn’t sleep. The bed is so big and empty.”

  Lily’s chest tightened. “I’m so sorry.” She shoved her left foot into the opposite boot and pushed to her feet. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  Rosalynn snorted. “Since you can’t bring James back, I assume you’re talking about cooking.” She tipped her head toward the refrigerator. “You could get the eggs and butter out.”

  “I can do that. Just don’t ask me to make the eggs over easy, unless you like them lacy and burned.” She reached into the fridge and extracted a carton of eggs and a tub of butter. “My mother wasn’t much of a cook. I must have gotten my lack of skills from her.”

  “You’re much more comfortable working outside with the animals,” Rosalynn said without any kind of judgment. She flipped a piece of bacon over in the pan. “What’s your plan for the day?”

  “I have a few errands to run in town. Hopefully, by later this afternoon, the fields will be dry enough to cut.” In town, she planned to run by the bank, withdraw her savings and close her account, the first task in her plan. Once the last of the hay was cut and properly stored, she would leave Whiskey Gulch Ranch and her hometown. Staying would only cause her more heartache. She loved Trace. If he didn’t love her as much as she loved him, she needed to move on.

  Her heart heavy, Lily slid bread into the toaster and waited while it cooked.

  Rosalynn broke a dozen eggs into a bowl, whipped them with a wire whisk until they were fluffy and poured
them into the skillet. Then she turned to Lily. “What’s wrong?”

  Lily’s head jerked up. “Wrong? What do you mean?”

  “You’ve been frowning since you walked through that door.”

  Guilt rode up her cheeks in a wave of heat. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I was frowning.” Lily concentrated on easing the tension out of her face. “Is that better?” she asked.

  Rosalynn shook her head. “It’s not the frown that was bothering me. It’s the fact that you’re frowning. I think of you as the daughter I never had. When you’re stressed, I’m stressed. When you’re unhappy, I’m unhappy.”

  Lily abandoned her duties at the toaster and crossed to the older woman, pulling her into a hug. “I don’t want you to be any unhappier than you already are because of me.”

  “Then tell me what’s wrong and let me see if I can help make it right.” Rosalynn set her at arm’s length. “So?”

  Lily laughed, though it took effort. She’d miss this woman who’d given her a job and made her a part of her family. “You can’t fix everything.”

  “I might if I know what the problem is.” She cocked an eyebrow. “Does it have to do with my pigheaded son?” She shook her head. “He takes after his father more than he can ever imagine.”

  Lily laughed for real this time. “I see it.” She smiled at Rosalynn. “You’re an amazing woman, you know that?”

  Mrs. Travis’s brows dipped. “I don’t think so. I’m just someone who’s trying to get through the day.”

  “That’s what I mean.” Lily took her hand and stared at her long fingers, the calluses, cuts and nicks marring the skin. “You just lost your husband, yet you’re worried about others’ happiness.”

  Rosalynn shrugged. “I need to be needed and to keep busy. If I sit around with nothing to do, or no one to worry about, I have too much time to ruminate about my own problems.” She gave Lily a sad smile. “So, if I can help you, I’d love the opportunity.”

  Lily hugged her, hating the idea of leaving this woman who’d become more of a mother to her than her own. “I love you, Rosalynn Travis. No matter what, remember that.”

  After a moment, Rosalynn leaned back. “You say that like you’re going somewhere.”

  “I am,” Lily said. “I’m going to town to run some errands after I take care of the animals.”

  “If your problems include my son,” Rosalynn started, “just know, he’s a man. And some men aren’t good at expressing their feelings. Take James, for example...he rarely told me that he loved me.”

  “Really?” Lily leaned back. “Everyone could tell you hung the moon in his eyes.”

  The older woman nodded. “Yes, but he didn’t say it. Instead, he lived it. Every time he held the door for me, brought me wildflowers from the fields, held my hand when he walked with me and never started eating before I sat at the dinner table. He didn’t have to tell me. I knew he loved me by the little things he did.

  “Trace is so much like his father, sometimes it scares me. At others, it makes me happy. I can see James in his face and demeanor. My husband isn’t completely gone. He lives on in my son and in my heart.”

  Tears welled in Lily’s eyes. “Yes, he does resemble his father.” Rosalynn and James Travis had lived the life Lily had always dreamed of. Not the rich rancher life, but the life of a couple who continued to love each other through thick and thin.

  “Tell you what, I don’t like the idea of you going to town on your own. Want me to ask one of the guys to go with you?” Rosalynn asked.

  Lily held up her hands. “No, that’s okay. I can manage on my own.”

  “With all that’s been happening lately, I don’t feel comfortable having any one of us going off alone. Irish headed out to the barnyard a few minutes before you came downstairs. Help him find his way around while I cook. When I have breakfast ready, I’ll go with you to town. I could do a little grocery shopping while you run your errands.”

  Lily hesitated for a split second. She didn’t want anyone knowing her plan to leave. Until she drove away from Whiskey Gulch Ranch, she wouldn’t tell anyone that she didn’t plan to return. But if Rosalynn wanted to grocery shop, she could do that while Lily headed to the bank across the street to close her account. “Sounds like a good plan. I’ll be back as soon as the animals are fed and watered.”

  Lily left the house and headed for the barn. She’d really wanted to leave for town before Trace woke. But that wasn’t an option, unless she wanted to wait in her SUV until the bank opened at nine o’clock.

  Waiting patiently was never one of Lily’s strengths. She’d be better off mucking stalls and currying the entire stable full of horses until their coats shone. At least her hands and mind would be too busy to dwell on her impending departure from the ranch.

  She found Irish in the barn, bent low, petting Patches.

  “You’re up early,” he said, straightening.

  “Couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d get an early start cleaning stalls.”

  “I’m still new to this ranching gig, but I’m willing to learn and working on getting my strength back. Won’t be long before I’m tossing eighty-pound bales with the best of them.” He winked. “What’s on the honey-do list for this morning?”

  “You can feed the horses and the chickens. Beware of the rooster. If he feels the need to defend his hens, use the fishnet hanging on the side of the barn to contain him.”

  Irish frowned. “Contain?”

  Lily laughed. “You scoop him up and hang him on the hook on the barn until you’ve poured the feed in the chicken pen.”

  He nodded. “Never knew that was what fishnets were for.” He chuckled. “Learn something new every day.”

  Lily snapped a lead on Lady and led her out of her stall. She tied the lead to a hook and went to work on mucking the stall. When Irish returned from feeding the chickens and the other horses, she had him brush Lady.

  Ten wheelbarrows full of sludge from the bottom of the first two stalls and Lily needed a shower before she went to town.

  Irish ducked his head into the stall she had just finished. “Mrs. Travis called out that breakfast is ready.”

  She carried her rake out and hung it on the wall, then followed Irish out of the barn to the house.

  He held the door for her to enter first.

  Thankfully, Trace wasn’t in the kitchen when she passed through. With thoughts of leaving heavy on her mind, she didn’t want to run into him, afraid he’d see her face and guess. Or worse, he’d see her and not give a damn.

  She made it through the house and into her room without running into him. After grabbing clean clothing, she poked her head out the door. The hallway was clear. Lily ran across to the bathroom and locked herself inside.

  She stripped out of her dirty jeans and shirt and hurried through a quick but thorough shower, washing the manure, straw and sweat from her body. When she finished, she dried, dressed and ran a brush through her wet hair. She didn’t want to take the time to apply a blow dryer to the wet strands. The hot Texas sun would dry it soon enough.

  Squaring her shoulders, she opened the bathroom door and stepped out into the hallway. If she ran into Trace, she told herself that she could handle it.

  “I can,” she whispered, knowing she might melt into a puddle of goo if he looked at her just right. Eleven years had passed, and she’d never gotten over the man.

  Voices rose from the floor below.

  Lily’s heartbeat sputtered and then raced. She gripped the rail as she descended the stairs to the ground floor.

  Rosalynn stood in the foyer with Trace, Irish and Roy. She grimaced when she spotted Lily. “Lily, honey, I won’t be able to go with you to town after all.” Turning, she waved a hand toward her son. “Trace has graciously offered to accompany you, if that’s okay.”

  No, it wasn’t okay. Lily’s heart sank into her kn
eecaps. The last thing she needed was to be cooped up in the same vehicle with Trace, especially when she was going to clear her bank account. He might get nosy and ask why. Then she’d have to lie or tell him the truth. Either way...she didn’t want to know how he’d feel.

  Lily stiffened her back. What he thought or didn’t think about her didn’t matter. She deserved someone who would fight for her. Someone who loved her enough to tell her.

  Trace wasn’t that guy. He’d stepped away from her without an attempt to change her mind. He’d left Whiskey Gulch and had remained gone for over ten years. Why would he care about her?

  “Fine,” Lily said. “But I hope you have things to do, because I don’t want you hanging around while I conduct my business.”

  Trace popped a sharp salute in her direction. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Lily rolled her eyes. “Oh, and you don’t have to call me ma’am. It makes me uncomfortable.”

  “Yes, your highness,” he said with a wink. Before she could protest, he turned and addressed his mother. “We’ll be back soon. I thought we’d use the rest of the day to check the fences.”

  “Sounds like a good plan,” his mother said. “The fields should be dry enough tomorrow to mow.”

  “That’s what we’re banking on.” He leaned down and kissed his mother’s cheek. Then he glanced at Irish.

  Irish nodded. “I’ve got her covered.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Aren’t you going to have breakfast first?” Rosalynn asked.

  Lily shook her head. “Thanks, but I’m not hungry.”

  “In that case—” Trace opened the front door and peered out before moving to the side with a flourish of his arm “—your chariot awaits.”

  Lily rolled her eyes and marched through the door and out to Trace’s truck. She stayed a step ahead of him, hurrying so that she would open her own door.

  Frustratingly, he kept up and reached around her to open her door, his arm brushing across hers.

  A shiver of awareness rippled through her, throwing her off guard. Damn. Damn. Damn. This little trip to town was going to be harder than she expected.