His Forever Texas Rose

by Stella Bagwell

  Shaking her head, Nicole said, “Virgie, a gift from a store isn’t like this one. My home back in Fort Worth—my parents have always had money. But I wish—” She paused and blinked back the moisture burning her eyes. “I wish that home could’ve been more like yours.”

  Virginia’s understanding smile made it even harder for Nicole to keep from bursting into tears.

  “You’ll get to do it your way now,” she said, curving her arm around Nicole’s shoulders and giving them a squeeze.

  “But you and Harley will be getting married soon,” Nicole reasoned. “You should keep this quilt for the two of you.”

  “Nonsense. Harley wouldn’t care if he was sleeping under a piece of canvas. And you know something, neither would I. We’re just going to enjoy each other. In the end that’s all that matters.”

  Blinking back her tears, Nicole planted a kiss on Virginia’s smooth cheek. “Thank you. For the quilt. For everything.”

  “You’re welcome. Now come on. Let’s go see if Trey’s ready for some fried pies and coffee.”

  The two women started out of the bedroom, only to meet Trey at the open doorway.

  “What’s the matter?” Virginia asked. “Did Cleo get moody and claw you?”

  He glanced at Nicole and then his grandmother. “No. I—uh—was coming after Nicci. I’ve got to get back to town—to the clinic to meet Doc. As soon as I can get there.”

  Nicole said, “Chandler never works on Sunday. Has there been an emergency?”

  “Not exactly,” Trey answered. “Doc needs me for something.”

  “Well, darn. I wasn’t nearly finished visiting with Nicci yet.” With a tolerant smile, Virginia patted the middle of her grandson’s chest. “You’ll just have to bring her back, Trey.”

  “I will, Granny.”

  “Soon.”

  “Yes, soon.”

  He sounded impatient, which was totally out of character for him, Nicole thought. Even when an emergency arose at work, he always reacted in a cool, efficient manner. But here in front of Virginia was hardly the time to question him. Instead, she said, “I’ll go fetch my handbag.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Trey had barely driven away from his grandmother’s house when Nicole asked for an explanation.

  “I thought you said this wasn’t an emergency. Why are you in such a hurry?”

  He glanced over to see a confused frown on her face, and for a split second, Trey considered stopping the truck on the side of the road and pulling her into his arms.

  From the time he’d made love to her early this morning until now, something had happened to him. Whether it was the way she’d clung to him, or how she’d seemed to understand when he’d talked about his past mistakes, he wasn’t sure, but it had felt like some sort of dam had broken inside him. And then when he’d watched the way she and his grandmother had interacted, it was like a foggy lens had been peeled from his eyes.

  Before he received Chandler’s call, he’d decided that as soon as he and Nicole returned to her place, he was going to have a long talk with her. He was going to put his heart, everything, on the line and find out exactly where he stood with her. She needed to know that he didn’t want just an affair with her. He wanted more. Much more. If she wasn’t willing to give him those things, he had to be prepared to tell her goodbye.

  “It’s nothing about rushing to treat a wounded or sick animal,” he said. “Doc wants me to go to Phoenix with him—right now. As soon as I get there.”

  She squared her knees around so that she was looking directly at him. “Phoenix? On a Sunday?”

  He grimaced. “I didn’t want to say anything in front of Granny. Not that she would’ve repeated anything to anyone, but it might have worried her. I’ll explain everything to her later.”

  She arched a brow at him. “How about explaining to me now?”

  Fixing his gaze on the highway, he said, “The police have set up a meeting with Ginny Patterson. Doc wants me to be there with him.”

  “Why does Chandler want you with him? He has three brothers who can go.”

  Her question felt like an ice pick driving right through him. “I guess it’s hard for you to understand, but Doc considers me a brother, too.”

  There was a pause of silence and then she said, “I’m sorry, Trey. I didn’t mean it that way. I know that you two are practically tied at the hip. I just thought—well, to be honest, it makes me uneasy to think of you going anywhere near someone who might be a murderer.”

  “Don’t worry. We’ll only be listening in on some conversation,” he said in an effort to assure her. “And later I think you and me need to talk.”

  From the corner of his eye, he could see a guarded expression come over her face.

  “Talk? About what?”

  “Oh, about whether we’re going to go panning anytime soon. There’s treasure to be found out there, you know.”

  She reached for his hand, and his heart winced with longing as her fingers tightened around his.

  “I do know. And we’re going to find it—together.”

  Trey could only wonder if they were talking about the same kind of treasure.

  * * *

  After dropping off Nicole at her house, Trey drove on to the clinic and found Chandler waiting for him.

  “What about your brothers and Gil?” Trey asked as he climbed into Chandler’s truck and fastened his seat belt.

  “Joe and Connor are already in Phoenix with police detectives. Blake, Holt and Uncle Gil are traveling just ahead of us in another vehicle,” Chandler explained. “Normally, we wouldn’t be allowed to listen in on something like this, but Gil pulled some strings with the department.”

  “What about Maureen? Did she go with the others?”

  “No. Mom is at home. Being on the ranch gives her comfort.”

  That was understandable, Trey thought. Three Rivers Ranch had been Maureen’s home for more than forty years. “Holt mentioned at the party that this meeting might be happening soon. I wasn’t expecting it to be today.”

  “Joe got a call late last night that things were quickly falling into place.” He blew out a long breath and slanted an uneasy glance at Trey. “Guess this is it, buddy. The last chance to find the truth about Dad. If this falls apart, there’s nothing else left. It kills me to think of Mom living the rest of her life wondering what really happened to Dad.”

  “This isn’t just about Maureen. It’s about you and your brothers, too. You’ve all suffered over the unknown.” Trey glanced at Chandler’s stern profile. “Just how much does this Ginny seem to know about your dad’s death, anyway? Has she told anyone?”

  “She has her suspicions, and that’s all that Joe knows. Other than the basic facts that she had some sort of connection to Dad via the Phoenix Livestock Sales and she’s scared to death of her husband. Supposedly that’s why she’s not come forward with information before now. Has to be conscience, or the opportunity to get the husband out of her life, that finally made her agree to help. Take your pick.”

  “Doesn’t matter as long as you find the truth,” Trey told him.

  * * *

  Once they arrived at the police department in Phoenix, Trey and Chandler were directed to a section of the building designated for the homicide division. When they entered a small sparsely furnished room used for interrogations, they found Blake sitting at a table, while Gil and Holt were standing together at the back of the room. To one side, three men wearing street clothes were gathered around some sort of technical equipment.

  Spotting Chandler and Trey, Gil immediately strode forward and began to explain what was happening.

  “Where are Joe and Connor?” Chandler asked, his gaze circling the room. “I thought they’d be here with the detectives. Has the meeting already started somewhere else?”

  Gil said, “There’s not going
to be a meeting. Not in the sense you’re thinking. Ginny agreed to having a hidden camera with sound placed in her kitchen. That’s the issue that was holding up this whole thing. To get the bug installed without her husband suspecting or finding out.”

  Chandler and Trey exchanged looks of surprise.

  “You mean this is sort of like a sting?” Trey asked the retired detective.

  “Exactly,” Gil said. “And frankly in this case, we’re at Ginny Patterson’s mercy. If she doesn’t get her husband to talking, or if she tips him off in any way, this could all be over before it begins.”

  Chandler groaned. “This is a hell of a situation. She wants us to believe her husband was involved in Dad’s death? And not her? How can we trust her on this?”

  “We don’t have any other choice,” Gil said, then motioned for the two men to follow him. “Come on. I’ll introduce you to the guys who’ll be operating things on this end.”

  A few minutes later, Holt walked up to Trey and Chandler. A cup of coffee was clutched in one hand, while a frown marred his face.

  “This stuff tastes like ground-up parsnips,” he muttered as he glanced down at the black liquid. “I wish Jazelle was here to pour me a bourbon and Coke. This waiting around is hell.”

  “Yeah, it’s hell all right,” Chandler agreed. “But if you’re worried about Maudie foaling tonight, don’t be. I checked her before I left. The baby is lying just as he should be.”

  A half-hearted smile on his face, Holt slapped a grateful hand on Chandler’s shoulder. “Thanks, brother. I’m not worried about Maudie. I just want all of this stuff about Dad to be over and done with. It’s been eight, close to nine years since Dad died. It’s time for our lives, and Mom’s, to move on.”

  Trey felt the same way. He wanted his relationship with Nicole to move on from what it was now. He wanted to know that she would be with him forever. Not just until she grew bored with him, or decided her family needed her back in Texas. Maybe she wasn’t expecting or wanting to hear that he loved her, that his whole outlook about marriage had changed. But one way or the other, she had to understand where his thoughts were headed, and he needed to know whether any of it really mattered to her.

  Trey was still deep in thought when one of the technicians suddenly spoke loud enough for everyone to hear. “If you men want to gather round, we’re picking up image and sound now.”

  Trey followed Chandler and his brothers and uncle over to a computer screen on a metal desk.

  “I hope to hell the picture gets better than this,” Gil said as everyone stared at the grainy images.

  The eldest of technicians quickly turned a dial on the machine, and the screen immediately cleared to show an area of kitchen cabinets and one end of a farm table covered with checked oil cloth. The white wooden chairs had lost most of their paint from years of use, but the shabbiness of them or the nearby cabinets was hardly important.

  It was the large man sitting at one end that caught Trey’s attention. He was a seedy-looking character, somewhere in his late fifties, with thin balding hair combed straight back from a low forehead. His rough features looked puffy, as though he either drank or had some sort of health issue. The dark-colored shirt covering his slumped shoulders looked to be splattered with something like paint or wet concrete. He was forking food into his mouth as fast as he could chew and swallow.

  “What is this slop anyway?” the man asked. “I might as well be chewing one of those bones you throw out for the dogs!”

  “It’s pot roast. I cooked it for you special,” a feminine voice spoke from somewhere beyond the table. “You always liked it before.”

  “Not with these damned rotten teeth!” he bellowed. “I need something soft!”

  “I’ll fix you some scrambled eggs,” she said.

  “No, you won’t fix me any scrambled eggs,” he mimicked, every word dripping with sarcasm. “You’ll sit your ass down and quit hovering over me!”

  A woman with drooping features and short blond hair pinned out of her eyes came into view as she walked over to a nearby chair and rested her hands on the top of the backrest. She was wearing a cotton housecoat that gaped at her bosom, while the edges of the sleeves were frayed. She hardly looked nervous, Trey thought. Instead, she looked like a person who was merely going through the motions of living.

  “You know, Ike, you could get those teeth fixed if I went back to work,” she suggested. “I’ve been thinking I might get my old job at the sale barn again. I hear Walt needs help in the concession now.”

  The man she called Ike suddenly jerked his head up and stared menacingly at his wife. “You’re gettin’ damned sassy tonight. You askin’ for a beatin’?”

  Trey was wondering why the woman was living with this animal of a man when Chandler looked at him and silently mouthed the word sick.

  On the screen, Ginny moved away from the chair and was out of sight for only a second before she returned with a pitcher filled with tea or some sort of dark liquid. As she refilled Ike’s glass, she said, “I’m trying to help. We could use a little more money around here. Especially with you getting fired from that concrete job.”

  He slapped his fork down so hard that the table actually shook. “That was no fault of mine! And don’t you ever mention that sale barn again! You think I’m gonna let you go work there and get yourself another man? You ain’t nothin’ to look at, but I’ll be damned before anybody else gets you!”

  To the right of Trey, Holt whispered, “God help her.”

  On the other side of Chandler, Blake muttered, “I’d like to get my hands around his throat.”

  Back in the Patterson kitchen, Ginny seemed to gather some energy or courage, or both, as she straightened her shoulders and stared down at her husband. “What are you talking about? Another man? I’ve never had another man. Why would I want one when I have you?”

  Forgetting the food on his plate, Ike glared at her. “Don’t stand there and lie to me in that catty voice! I’ll knock your head off your shoulders!”

  “If you’re talking about Joel Hollister, I have a bit of news for you, Ike. I read in the newspaper that the Yavapai sheriff’s department has come up with some new evidence that says the rancher wasn’t drug to death by a horse—he was murdered. You know anything about that?”

  Ike looked like a man who’d just seen the devil and didn’t know whether to get ready to fight, or run. But after a moment he quickly gathered himself and sneered at her. “You’re worse than stupid. Why would I know anything about that rancher? He was a rich bastard. Somebody killed him for his money.”

  Seemingly unfazed by his retort, she said, “The law doesn’t think so. And I don’t think it, either. I believe that you killed Joel Hollister! Just because he was my friend!”

  The damning accusations came out of Ginny so suddenly and unexpectedly that everyone in the room stared in stunned fascination at what was unfolding before them.

  His voice low and threatening, he said, “I’ll give you one thing, Ginny, you got more guts than I ever thought.”

  Ginny put down the pitcher and moved a few inches on down the table. “Yeah, I finally got enough guts to face the fact that I’m living with a murderer.”

  An evil grin twisted his face. “Hell yeah, I killed that son of a bitch Joel Hollister. Just what do you think you’re going to do about it?” he goaded. “I’ll tell you what. Not one damned thing. Or I’ll smash your head the same way I did his!”

  “That’s it,” Blake said in a hushed, incredulous voice. “We got him!”

  While Holt was making a fist pump, Trey was expecting the woman to run out of the house and to safety. Instead, she continued to stare at him as though she wanted to go after him with a carving knife.

  “Why, Ike? You never knew the man. He didn’t do anything to you.”

  “Nothin’? He was going to help you leave me. Yeah, I knew ab
out the plans you two made. You think I’m as dumb as you are, but I’m not. Back then, you were actin’ awful happy for some reason. I couldn’t figure out why until I heard you on the phone talkin’ to Wanda, that loopy old friend of yours. Hollister was gonna help you get you and your things to the bus station without me knowin’.”

  Ginny blinked, and Trey prayed she wouldn’t break down now.

  “No one else around here ever had the guts to help me—except for Joel,” she said. “I’ll never forgive myself for asking him—for causing his death.”

  “Aw now, ain’t that sweet,” he drawled sarcastically. “You think the man died a hero.”

  Trey noticed Ginny’s hand wrap around the handle of the heavy glass. Was she going to use it as a weapon? Why didn’t she just get the heck out of there?

  Trey was about to whisper the question to Chandler when he saw Ike pick up his fork and point it at Ginny in a bullying manner.

  “In case you’d like to know, I didn’t find out the man was a rich, well-to-do rancher until the next day. That’s when I called Hollister and told him I wanted to meet him. I made up this cock-’n-bull sob story about how much I loved you and wanted him to help me win you back. Just like I figured, he didn’t want his family knowin’ he was mixed up with a woman like you, so he agreed to meet me on the backside of the ranch.”

  “That’s where you killed him,” she stated in a stricken voice.

  “It was so easy it was pitiful. He turned around to tend to his horse and never knew what hit him. At first, I didn’t plan on making it look like an accident. That came to me after the fact. Worked, too, didn’t it? Joel Hollister was drug to death by his own trusty steed. That’s what the newspapers all printed.” His laughter was a satanical sound. “You know, Ginny, the only thing I regret is that I didn’t get some money out of him before I killed him. That was stupid of me, but a man can’t think of everything.”

  “No. You never thought of the most important thing,” Ginny dared to say.