White Deception

by Susan Edwards

  “You too, Reed.”

  “I’m not family, Sheriff. Don’t want to intrude.” Reed lifted an eyebrow. “Unless you think I had something to do with this.”

  Tyler jammed his hat down onto his head, hard. “If I thought you were behind this, you’d be locked up in that cell right now.” He hooked his thumb over his shoulder. He sighed heavily. “But like it or not, Reed, you’re involved.”

  Reed leaned against the wall. “Don’t think so,” he said. He was not involved. Not even the tiniest bit. His moment of playing the hero was over and done with. It was time for him to concentrate on his reasons for being in Pheasant Gully, and the haunting beauty of one arousing woman who needed protection had no place in his mind or heart.

  Sheriff Tyler rubbed the back of his neck. “You remember the couple killed by the Grangers?”

  A chill ran down Reed’s spine. He straightened. “Seeing how I was nearly hanged for their murders, I’m not likely to forget.” If not for the sheriff letting him go with an order to get the hell out of town, Reed would have been strung up by the angry crowd who blamed him for their deaths.

  “They were the parents of these kids. Seems someone has a grudge against them.”

  “Are you still blaming me?” Fury rose in Reed, mostly at himself. One mistake, and four innocent people were dead. He might not have pulled any triggers, but it was his fault they had died nonetheless. And damn it all, wasn’t that the reason he was here? To end it? To bring the killers to justice and clear his name once and for all?

  For how much more could he be held responsible?

  All of it, a voice whispered in his heart. All of it. Each death brought on by his enemy was another burden heaped over his shoulders. Each link in this chain of killing is his fault.

  Images of the woman named Mattie swam before him—her dark beauty, the aura of sadness he’d noticed at the celebration. His mind and body had reached out for her, yearned to take her into his arms and hold her. Her scent, which he had absorbed as he held her, made him want to run after her and scoop her back into his arms where she belonged.

  He growled with frustration. The woman was engaged. She wasn’t his.

  But her life was now in his hands. Swearing, he strode out after the sheriff.

  Chapter Five

  Renny paced behind a moss-green settee in the Jensens’ boardinghouse. Mattie sat in its center, Caitie curled in her lap. Kealan and Daire flanked her. Kea sat back, his legs sticking straight out, arms crossed tightly in front of him. Daire sat forward, feet planted on the rug, hands gripping his knees. Both brothers wore grim expressions that matched Renny’s own.

  Little warriors, she thought, staring at them. Her baby brothers were growing up quickly. Watching Kea trying to be brave, the realization also infuriated her. He was entitled to the innocence of childhood, and in the last year, much of that had been stolen from him.

  Mrs. O’Leary sat ramrod-straight in a chair designed for looks, not comfort. With her head erect, her eyes staring unblinkingly and her nose in the air, displeasure screamed from every line in her face.

  Sitting at her mother’s feet with her legs tucked demurely to one side, Brenna still wore her dark cloak and gloves. The young woman always looked fragile, but the yellowish-orange flames in the fireplace gave her pale features a sickly cast as she stared blankly into them.

  Glancing at the door, Renny turned impatiently on her heel and strode over to the frilly-framed window. Where were the others? She glared out into the night. Someone was after her family. Her fists clenched, her lips tightened and the blood roared inside her head. She’d lost her parents. She refused to allow any harm to come to her brothers or sisters.

  Spinning around, Renny decided to go find out what was keeping the men. If they were attempting to exclude her and the other women, she’d put them straight. The Troll—Sheriff Tyler—might think he knew what was best for them, probably thought he was protecting the “fragile” women and youngsters, but if he thought he could shield them from the fact that someone was out to get them, he was wrong.

  Her pa had never shielded any of them. They were a family, and family meetings were a part of their daily lives. Decisions were made after everyone had their say, and if the sheriff thought he could butt in once more and change all that, he had another think coming.

  She reached the doorway but stopped as the men arrived. Turning, she went back to her place behind her sister. Gil slid to the side of the door. Paddy O’Leary stormed in, then hesitated as he stared at the remaining chairs. Each seemed too fragile to support his weight. He backed away, his hip nudging a small, round table covered with delicate glass objects. A tall figurine teetered dangerously. Then he moved to join Renny behind the settee where there was more space to move.

  The sheriff came in next and moved to the fireplace. The mantel, strewn with glass figurines, seemed to baffle him as he tried to find a place for his elbow; then he gave up.

  The stranger, Reed, followed, stopping just inside the room and clasping his hands behind his back. Renny’s brother Matthew stood beside him, his features a cold mask barely hiding his fury. Renny almost expected him to shed his white man’s trappings for breechclout, bow and arrow.

  Her own mouth firmed. She was with him in spirit. Whoever had taken a shot at Mattie would pay. Her brother might dress as any other townsman while living as a white man, but in his heart Matthew was all Sioux warrior.

  Renny slid a quick look at the stranger. Standing next to her brother, Reed’s similar Indian heritage was obvious. Only his startling blue eyes bespoke mixed parentage whereas Matthew’s white blood from his grandmother remained hidden.

  The packed room was silent except for the echo of boots; Renny’s and Patrick O’Leary’s as they each paced behind the settee.

  After several minutes during which no one spoke, Mattie demanded, “Well? What did you find?” The men had seen that Renny and the rest of the females and children were settled safely, then had left to return to the site of the shooting. Renny, too, wanted to know what they’d learned.

  “The shots came from the roof of Harry’s place. Barrels were stacked behind his store, which made for easy access to the roof—hop up, then down. In the confusion, no one saw a thing.” The sheriff shook his head in disgust. “Found a shell, but it won’t tell us much. Harry sells them. Could have been anyone in Pheasant Gully.”

  His gaze swept the room. “And no, it didn’t come from Reed’s guns—if anyone was thinking that. It was a shotgun, and whoever did the shooting was a damn good shot.”

  Mrs. O’Leary stiffened at the sheriff’s language, and he let out a long breath. “My apologies, ladies,” he added.

  Renny, long used to the woman’s difficult nature, ignored her in order to sneer at Tyler. “Come on, Troll. The bastard missed.” She wiggled the fingers of her right hand. Given the chance to get even, she wouldn’t miss! Not with gun or arrow. She was an expert at both.

  Tyler narrowed his eyes. “Wrong, Ranait. Whoever took those shots had a perfect view. I think our shooter missed on purpose.” The sheriff paused to study each of the O’Briens.

  Renny hastily dropped her gaze. Lifting her eyes slightly, she saw Tyler pace in front of the fireplace. The silence in the room grew uncomfortable. Sheriff Troll, as she unfondly thought of him, reminded her of a large bear—a ridiculously large and clumsy bear, especially in this fussily cluttered room that looked as though it belonged in Victorian England.

  “Well?” Impatience made Tyler’s voice harsh.

  “Not your concern, Sheriff,” Renny said, finally breaking the silence. “We take care of our own.”

  “Wrong!” Tyler whipped around and strode over to her. “As the law around here, it is my business.” He crossed his arms and stared down at her. “You weren’t going to tell me, were you?”

  “Tell you wha
t?” Renny glanced at Mattie. It did not do any good to glare, as her sister wouldn’t see it, but she did so anyway. “You told him!”

  “Some,” Mattie admitted. “But he has the right to know, Renny, and whether you’ll admit it or not, we need help.”

  Renny backed away and leaned against the windowsill. “No one was hurt. There’s nothing he or anyone else can do.”

  Oppressive silence filled the small room. Tyler went to Mattie and knelt down in front of her. “Mattie, earlier you said you were having problems with the livestock. You didn’t mention any threat to anyone’s life.”

  Mattie sighed. “There wasn’t time to go into it, Tyler. That’s why I asked you to come see us before we left in the morning.”

  “It’s not his concern, Mattie,” Renny broke in. She rushed to stand behind her sister, her hands on Mattie’s shoulders. Her furious gaze clashed with Tyler’s. “We don’t need his kind of help. Not after the last time.”

  “Dammit, Ranait! I am the sheriff.”

  “As if any of us can forget.” Scorn laced her voice. “Sheriff Trowbrydge Tyler Thompkins Tilly, master and ruler of Pheasant Gully. Well, Sheriff Troll, we don’t need your brand of help. I’m not giving you a second chance to try and split us up.”

  Inside, she seethed. Stunned with grief when their parents were murdered, the O’Briens had welcomed his gesture of help, his vow to find the killer. Unfortunately, his offer of help had included a plan to take away the three youngest O’Briens and farm them out to other families. Renny would never forgive him. Ever.

  “Ranait.” Tyler’s voice had gone soft and cold.

  Mattie’s hand rose to cover her sister’s. “Renny, please.”

  Hearing Mattie’s distress, Renny held her tongue.

  From the open doorway, the stranger who’d assisted Mattie spoke up. “I don’t know what is going on, but someone shot at your sister tonight. The sheriff is right. It was a clean shot—even considering that it was nearly dark. Whoever did it might not choose to miss next time.”

  Renny glared first at Tyler, then at Reed. “Fine. The sheriff can try to find whoever shot at Mattie, but he’d better not interfere with my family. Never again.” She tipped her chin at Sheriff Tyler as he stood.

  He moved as close to the couch as possible, leaning over Mattie and Caitie. “One of these days, Renny, you and I will have this out once and for all.”

  Renny leaned forward. “I have nothing to say to you. Now, or in the future.” Beneath her breath she added, “Troll.”

  Reed noted the tiredness, worry and exhaustion on Mattie’s face and stepped toward her. He deliberately tried to stay out of affairs that did not concern him, but he couldn’t ignore the fragile-looking woman sitting beneath what looked to be a war in the making.

  And something else about her drew him. He held out his hands. “Obviously there is no love lost between the two of you—can’t blame you there,” he couldn’t help but add as he met Renny’s startled gaze. “But despite his lack of tact, social skills and manners, I’d trust my life to Tyler. Owe him it, in fact.”

  Reed held Renny’s gaze until she folded her arms across her chest and leaned a hip against the back of the settee. Then he glared at the sheriff, who stood with hands on his hips. Watching the two try to stare one another down, Reed swore there was enough heat in their eyes to ignite the room.

  Interesting, especially as he knew so few people who could rile Tyler—or who were foolish enough to deliberately use the man’s given and much-hated name, let alone any unpleasant play on it. Fireworks were to come later, he was sure.

  “It might help everyone concerned, whether they want to be involved or not, if we knew everything that was going on.” He directed his voice to the dark-haired woman, who was chewing on her lower lip.

  Once again he was drawn by her beauty. He willed her to look at him, to see him. But as she had all night, her gaze gave no sign of recognition or any other emotion. Right now her eyes were aimed at him, filled with fear and concern, yet they stared blankly through him.

  Reed found the sensation unnerving. He turned away. The soft sound of her voice made him turn back.

  “Renny, he’s right. They’re all right.” She stared at him—through him—as she began her tale. He listened while she told everyone what had been happening up at their homestead, starting with the trouble with their chickens, the horses being let out, and just that morning, the poisoning of their cattle.

  Agitated, Patrick ran his hands through his hair. “Mattie, child, surely after what happened tonight you can see that the best thing for you all would be to come stay with us until this is all sorted out.”

  Mattie shook her head. “There’s no room.”

  Patrick went down on one knee before her. He took her hands in his. “Nonsense. We’ll make room. We’re family. You could have been killed tonight.”

  Silence fell heavily in the room.

  Reed kept his gaze on Mattie, unnerved by her blank stare yet unable to glance away. “That wouldn’t necessarily solve anything. It’d just put the rest of you in the same danger.”

  Tyler spoke up. “I have to agree. Sounds like you and your family have an enemy.”

  Just the thought of someone harming the beauty sitting surrounded by her family yet looking so lost and alone left Reed’s knees weak.

  Gil moved to stand in front of Mattie, breaking Reed out of his thoughts. “Who are you?” he accused. “What do you know?”

  Reed avoided the sheriff’s sharp gaze and stared out the window. Darkness had fallen completely, and the glass reflected the glow of the fire and lamps around the room. “Too much,” he said quietly. And unfortunately, he did know too much. In his gut, he accepted that Sheriff Tyler was right in saying Reed’s past was involved. The strange thing was, whoever had taken a shot at Mattie had missed on purpose. But who and why?

  There was one answer that maybe made sense. Someone wanted her off her land, and Reed could think of only one man who’d want it that badly: Malcolm Clemmings. But why?

  Malcolm Clemmings—the man who in cold blood had robbed Reed’s father’s bank and killed Reed’s wife. He wouldn’t let a bunch of youngsters stop him from getting what he wanted. Especially not recovering a hidden cache of money, if it happened to be buried there. Reed drew in a deep breath. He couldn’t reveal all that he knew, not even to Tyler, but he had no choice but to do what he could to prevent more deaths.

  Mrs. O’Leary stood. “This is not suitable talk for children or delicate young ladies. Brenna is getting quite upset. I am taking her to bed.” She eyed Kealan and Caitie. The children didn’t budge.

  “They are part of the family. They stay,” Matthew said.

  Disapproval filled her features. “Very well.” Her gloved hands were as tightly pressed together as her lips.

  Reed didn’t really think she was as upset as the rest of the O’Learys and O’Briens, but he did note that her daughter indeed looked pale and upset by the events. A linen handkerchief was threaded like a ribbon between her fingers, and she worried the scrap of fabric. At her mother’s command, she stood and smoothed her skirt.

  “You don’t mind, do you, Mattie?” she asked in a hushed whisper.

  “No, of course not, Brenna. Good night, Mother O’Leary,” Mattie added.

  Without a word, Mrs. O’Leary hustled her daughter from the room.

  Reed found it curious that she hadn’t spoken directly to Mattie all evening. She hadn’t even asked if the girl who was her daughter-in-law was all right, or if she needed anything.

  The sheriff glanced around the room, his gaze settling on the three youngest O’Brien siblings. “I don’t like this, Mattie,” he said.

  Mattie leaned her head back and closed her eyes. “None of us is exactly happy about any of this, Sheriff Tyler. But until we know who is behind it
all, there’s not much we can do.”

  Her comment immediately started the arguments: Patrick insisting the O’Briens come to live with him, the O’Briens refusing, the sheriff wanting them to move to town. Only Gil and Reed remained silent.

  Reed stared into the fire, trying to keep out of family business that had nothing to do with him. Though he was involved, what decisions the band of siblings made were theirs to make. Malcolm Clemmings. No doubt about it. The murdering bastard was here, in Pheasant Gully. And Reed would find him.

  This was the break he needed. All he had to do now was wait for the man to show himself. Then Reed would turn him in, find and return the bank money, and restore his father’s reputation—and his own honor.

  Yes, things were definitely looking up. When Reed had ridden into Pheasant Gully earlier that day, he hadn’t been sure that his information was correct. The trail that led here was sketchy at best. Now he was vindicated.

  He glanced at the sheriff, who lifted a brow, conveying he also understood the significance. The bank robbery money was somewhere on O’Brien land. Reed gave a subtle shake of his head. He didn’t want anything said. The family was upset enough.

  Yet having them off the property seemed wisest and smartest. The lives of these people wouldn’t mean a damn thing to Malcolm. Or to Leo Granger, if he showed. Reed was pretty sure that Leo was on his way. Especially as Reed had let it be known that Malcolm was hiding in the area.

  Willing Mattie to look at him, Reed spoke. “You’d be smart to take your family and leave. If someone is after you, staying with friends or family in the area isn’t going to help. Surely there is somewhere safe you can all go.”

  Seeing the sparks of denial ready to burst into flame all around him, Reed hastily added, “Only until we find out what is going on.” He winced inwardly when he realized he’d said “we.”

  But hell, wasn’t he already involved? Before he could analyze whether the woman sitting so silent and still across from him had anything to do with his willingness to get involved, all hell broke loose.