Her mother caught her in her arms and held her tight, then started to cry. She was worried about the bad ghosts, Maggie reasoned. She didn’t need to be afraid, because Maggie wouldn’t tell. Not anyone. Not ever.
Grady wrapped his arms around them both. He closed his eyes the way people did in church when they prayed. When he opened them again, he smiled at her. Maggie liked the way he smiled. It was a nice smile, not mean.
“Boy, we’re glad to see you,” he said.
SAVANNAH WIPED THE TEARS from her face as she strolled along the pathway in her rose garden. But this morning she didn’t appreciate the beauty of the roses. Nor did she find the solace she normally did here. If she lived to be a hundred years old, she didn’t want to go through another day like the past one.
Although Caroline had repeatedly told her it wasn’t her fault that Maggie had turned up missing, Savannah blamed herself. She’d been preoccupied with baking bread, her head full of the romance developing between her brother and her best friend. What she should have been doing was keeping careful watch over her best friend’s child.
“I thought I’d find you here.” Laredo walked up from behind her.
She didn’t want him to know she’d been crying, but wasn’t sure she could hide it.
“Sweetheart, why are you still upset? Maggie’s home safe and sound.”
“I know.”
“Then what’s bothering you?”
Her chest tightened, and she waited until the ache eased before she answered. “My brother.”
Laredo clasped her shoulders. “Richard?”
She nodded. “He was involved in Maggie’s disappearance. I know it.”
“I have to admit it’s mighty suspicious.”
“Maggie won’t say a word. Everyone’s tried to get her to say where she was, but she refuses. Even Frank Hennessey can’t get her to budge.”
“It doesn’t matter. She’s home now.”
“But it does matter,” Savannah said passionately. “Laredo, tell me, where did Grady and I go wrong?”
“Sweetheart, your brother’s an adult who makes his own decisions. You didn’t do anything wrong. You’re his sister, not his mother, and even if you were, I’d say the same thing. Richard is his own person, responsible for himself.”
“In my head I agree with everything you’re saying, but that doesn’t take away the pain.”
Laredo guided her to the patio set and made her sit down in one of the white wrought-iron chairs.
“I was the one who convinced Grady to let him stay.”
“Yes, but that’s because Richard’s your brother.”
“If I’d listened to Grady that first night, none of this would have happened.”
“Oh, my love, that’s the risk of having a gentle heart. Someone’s bound to take advantage of it. I’m sorry it had to be your own brother.”
“He’s hurt so many people.” That was what troubled Savannah most. It wasn’t just she and Grady who’d been hurt, but others. Who knew how many? Wherever he’d spent the past six years, she had no doubt he’d left victims behind. People like the shop keepers in Promise. He’d defrauded them, humiliated them, and ultimately she was the one to blame. Savannah didn’t know if she could forgive herself. “I should’ve let Grady kick him out that first day,” she muttered fiercely.
“You don’t think he’s coming back?”
She shook her head. “All his things are gone.”
“Everything?”
She nodded and swallowed tightly. “Including Grady’s truck.”
Laredo swore under his breath. “Did Grady talk to Sheriff Hennessey?” he asked.
Savannah looked down at her clenched hands. “Yes,” she said, her voice small. “That was when he learned…”
“Learned what?”
She sighed. “There’s more, Laredo. Richard’s charged thousands of dollars’ worth of goods in Promise. He owes money to everyone in town. There was never any check. He didn’t intend to pay for any of the things he charged and now he’s gone.” She squeezed her eyes shut in an effort to keep the tears at bay. “You should have seen the look on Grady’s face when Frank told him. It was the same look he had six years ago—when he found out what Richard did then. After Mom and Dad died…”
Savannah hadn’t thought herself capable of such intense anger. She looked her husband in the eye and said, “I think I hate my own brother.”
CHAPTER 8
RICHARD HAD BEEN GONE A WEEK. To Grady, his brother’s disappearance was both a blessing and a curse. Only now was Grady getting a complete picture of the damage Richard’s extended visit had wrought. Every day since his brother had vanished, a fistful of new bills arrived, charges Richard had made using the family’s accounts.
The bills were stacked on Grady’s desk, and whenever he looked at them, his anger mounted. He’d made a list of money owed and checked it three or four times before he could grasp the full extent of what Richard had done.
While a majority of businesses in town accepted credit cards, ranchers tended to avoid them. Grady carried only one, and it was tucked in the back of his wallet for emergencies. All his purchases were paid for with cash or put on account, then paid in full at the end of each month.
In the weeks since his return, Richard had taken it upon himself to run into town to pick up supplies, and Grady had let him. Sending his worthless brother on errands had seemed innocent enough, and it freed up Laredo, Wiley and him for the more serious ranching chores. What Grady didn’t know was that every time Richard had driven into town, he’d charged clothing, expensive liquor, all kinds of things, on the family accounts. It added up to nearly eight thousand dollars, not including the money still owed on some of his earlier purchases. Richard had masterfully hidden what he’d done, robbing Peter to pay Paul, returning goods and buying other things with the credits. He’d managed to disguise his actions using a number of clever cons. Merchants had trusted him. Trusted the Weston name.
Now Richard was gone, and just like six years earlier, Grady was stuck with the mess he’d left behind.
Unable to tolerate looking at the stack of past due notices, Grady grabbed his hat and abandoned his office. The day was hot, although it was only nine in the morning, and he was supposed to meet Wiley and the hired hands near Gully Creek.
He was halfway to the barn when he saw Frank Hennessey’s patrol car coming down the driveway, kicking up a plume of dust in its wake. Grady paused and waited for the lawman. With any luck Frank would have some word about Richard and the stolen truck. Whereas Grady hadn’t filed charges against his brother six years ago, he felt no such compunction now. He wanted Richard found and prosecuted to the full extent of the law.
Richard deserved a jail term, if for nothing more than the agony he’d caused Caroline by kid nap ping Maggie. Until the day he died, Grady wouldn’t understand what had prompted his brother to steal away with the child.
For her part Maggie seemed to have made a full recovery. Thank God. She clung to Caroline, but that was understandable. She refused to talk about where she’d gone or who she’d been with, but anyone with half a brain knew it’d been Richard. If Grady had anything for which to thank his useless brother, it was that he’d had the common decency to bring Maggie back to her mother.
Frank parked the patrol car in the yard and slowly climbed out of the driver’s seat. “Morning, Grady.” He touched the brim of his hat.
“Frank.” Grady nodded in greeting. “I hope you’ve come with good news.”
“Good and bad, I’m afraid,” Frank said. By tacit agreement the two men headed toward the house for coffee. Savannah was busy in her office, updating her rose catalog on the computer, but she’d recently put on a fresh pot.
Grady poured them each a cup but didn’t sit down. When it was a question of receiving news about Richard, he preferred to do it standing up.
“What have you learned?” Grady asked, after giving Frank a moment to taste the coffee. He leaned against the kitchen
counter and crossed his ankles. Frank remained standing, as well.
“First, your truck’s been found.”
This was an unexpected and pleasant surprise. Grady had driven the old Ford pickup for ten years now, and he’d grown attached to it. The thought of being forced to buy a new one had rankled, especially in light of the mounting bills.
“Richard abandoned it in Brewster,” Frank said, “and stole another.”
While he wasn’t surprised, Grady would almost rather lose his truck permanently than have his own brother steal some other rancher’s vehicle.
“It was a newer model,” Frank said with a soft snicker. “Apparently yours was a bit too old to suit his image.”
Grady didn’t miss the sheriff’s well-placed sarcasm.
“Only this truck had an additional ad vantage,” Frank muttered.
“What’s that?”
“The owner kept a rifle mounted in the back window.”
Grady took a moment to mull over the information. “You don’t think Richard would actually use it, do you?”
The lawman shrugged. “Given the right set of circumstances, I wouldn’t put it past him.”
Grady had never thought of Richard as violent. He’d proved himself to be a weasel and a lowlife, but the fact that he might be brutal enough to use a weapon against another human being surprised even Grady. “What makes you think that?” Grady asked, afraid of what Frank was going to say. Last night he’d alluded briefly to something Richard had done back East, but at the time they were all too concerned about Maggie to give it much thought. “What do you know about Richard?”
The sheriff had never been one to hedge, and he didn’t do so now. “It gives me no pleasure to tell you this, but there’s been an arrest warrant issued for him from New York City.”
“New York? On what charge?”
“The list is as long as my arm,” Frank said with real regret. “Extortion for one. Richard’s been involved in a number of scams, most of them bilking immigrants from Central and South America. Apparently he fed them a pack of lies, luring them into the country with promises of housing and jobs. Promises he had no intention of keeping. He set them up in ware houses in horrible conditions, forced them into menial jobs from which he collected most of their pay. It made big news on the East Coast when his activities were un covered. Somehow he managed to scrape together the bail, then hit the road the minute he was freed.”
Grady had been angry at his brother and furious at himself, too, for allowing Richard to worm his way back into their lives with his hard-luck story. Richard had taken advantage of his family; that was bad enough. But to learn he’d made a profession of stealing from others made Grady sick. How was it that his own brother—born of the same two parents, raised in the same house hold—could have lowered himself to such depths? If he lived to be an old man, Grady would never understand what had turned Richard into the type of person who purposely hurt others.
“I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, Grady,” Frank said again.
“I realize that.” His voice sounded strange even to his own ears.
“When and if we find Richard, I won’t have any choice but to arrest him.”
“I understand.” Grady wouldn’t expect anything less. It was what his brother deserved.
“I talked to the New York district attorney this morning. The state wants him bad. Apparently there’s been quite a bit of press regarding his arrest and the charges brought against him. He’s hurt a lot of people, Grady.”
“What happened to him? What made Richard the way he is?” The questions were rhetorical; Grady didn’t actually expect the sheriff to supply an answer.
Frank shook his head. “Hell if I know. I liked Richard. He was always charming and clever—but somehow that turned into conniving and un trust worthy. Why he’s like that, I couldn’t say. Over the years I’ve met other people who were just as rotten, and I don’t believe environment or bad circumstances is always the explanation. Your parents were God-fearing folk, and they raised him right. The fault lies within Richard himself.”
Although Grady already knew as much, it helped to have a lawman as experienced as Frank confirm it.
“Eventually Richard will be caught,” Frank said, as if he felt the necessity to prepare Grady for the inevitable. “And when he is, he’ll be headed straight for prison.”
It hurt to think of his brother doing jail time, but Grady’s sympathies went out to all the people Richard had cheated, himself included.
Grady walked Frank out to his patrol car, then made his way to the barn. He whistled for Rocket and stopped abruptly when the dog didn’t come. Rocket’s hearing was getting bad, and he’d grown arthritic; these days, he mostly enjoyed lazing about on the front porch. But he still liked to ac company Grady to the barn. Just to reassure himself, Grady decided to check on his dog. Rocket had belonged to his father and was already middle-aged—seven years old—at the time of the accident. In the hard, financially crippling years that followed, the dog had become Grady’s constant sidekick and friend. He’d shared his woes, frustrations, joys and sorrows with Rocket, and the old dog always gave him comfort.
A smile came to him when he saw the dog lying on his usual braided rug. He whistled again. “Come on, boy, we’ve got work to do.”
Rocket remained still.
As Grady approached the front porch, his steps slowed. He wasn’t sure when he realized his faithful companion was gone, but by the time he reached the porch steps, his heart was full of dread.
“Rocket,” he whispered and hunkered down beside the dog.
One touch con firmed the worst. Rocket had died, apparently in his sleep.
An intense sadness settled over Grady. On a ranch dogs came and went, and he’d learned the downfall of becoming too attached to any one animal. But Rocket was special. Different. Rocket was a loyal intelligent dog—the best dog he’d ever had; Rocket was also the last tangible piece of his father.
His throat ached and he bowed his head for several minutes, not even trying to fight back the tears.
Once he’d composed himself, he sought out his sister. He found her working in her garden. “I need a shovel,” he announced without emotion, as if he didn’t know where one was kept.
As he knew she would, Savannah guessed immediately that something wasn’t right. “What happened?”
He steeled himself and told her. “Rocket’s gone. It looks like he died in his sleep.”
He watched as the sadness trans formed her face. Tears filled her eyes. “Oh, Grady, I’m so sorry. I know how much you loved him.”
“He was just a dog,” he said with a stoicism he didn’t feel.
“Not an ordinary dog,” she added gently.
“No, not ordinary,” he agreed, the pain of loss tightening his chest. “If you agree, I’d like to bury him in your garden by the rosebush you named after Mom.”
She nodded mutely.
They worked side by side, brother and sister. Grady dug the grave, grateful for the physical effort that helped vent his pain. Again and again he was forced to remind himself that Rocket was just a dog, like a dozen or more who’d lived and died through the years. But he couldn’t make himself believe it.
When he finished, he placed a rock as a marker. Savannah stood beside him.
“Goodbye, Rocket,” she whispered.
“Goodbye, old friend,” Grady said.
Savannah sobbed and turned into his arms. Grady held her, battling back emotion himself. An image came to mind, a memory—his father crouched down and Rocket running toward him, leaping into his arms, joyfully licking his face. Their reunion would be a happy one, but Grady knew there’d be a hole in his heart for a long time to come.
“I’M GLAD WE COULD FINALLY meet for lunch,” Ellie Frasier said, sliding into the booth at the bowling alley café.
Jane Dickinson smiled in welcome. She’d been waiting ten minutes, but she tended to be early, a habit her family had instilled in her. This lu
nch date was something she’d really looked forward to, although it had been difficult to arrange with both their schedules so busy. But Dovie had encouraged Jane to meet Ellie, mentioning her in almost every conversation.
Jane had come to think of Dovie as a mentor and friend. Stopping to talk with her that first morning she’d gone for a jog had been one of the smartest things she’d done since moving to Promise. Unfortunately Dovie was still the only person in town she knew on a first-name basis. Despite her efforts to become part of the community, friendly gestures from the other residents of Promise were few and far between.
“So…Dovie thought it would be a good idea for the two of us to get to know each other,” Ellie said, reaching for the menu.
“I realize you’re getting married soon,” Jane said as a means of starting the conversation. “You must be terribly busy….”
Ellie nodded. “The wedding’s only a couple of weeks away.” A wistful look stole over her face. Jane recognized that look—it was the look of a woman in love.
Jane envied her happiness. After medical school and then working as an intern, followed by her residency at a huge public-health hospital in Los Angeles, there hadn’t been time in her life for anything other than medicine. Now she was trapped in Texas with only one friend and zero prospects for romance.
Ellie did little more than glance at the menu before she set it aside.
Jane had spent several minutes reading over the se lections, but had failed to make a choice. “You know what you’re going to have?”
“I almost always order the chicken-fried steak.”
The thought of all those fat grams was enough to make Jane feel queasy. Even the salads listed on the menu were ones she normally avoided—coleslaw with mayonnaise dressing, for instance. Most of the food was battered and fried. Even the vegetables. Okra coated in cornmeal and cooked in a deep fryer. The same with tomatoes. It was a wonder anyone lived beyond twenty-five in this town. The eating habits here were probably the un healthiest she’d seen in years. It was time the people of Promise caught up with the latest in formation on health and diet.
Heart of Texas Vol. 2 Page 12
