by Jodi Thomas
“You know him?”
Tyler shook his head. “He didn’t help Nevada with the funeral arrangements. Far as I know he didn’t even attend. Her only brother refused to come too, said he hated the old man. She looked so alone there in the family pew, her back straight, her eyes staring ahead like she saw nothing but trouble coming to blow her over.”
“I’m not surprised he didn’t help. Probably wouldn’t have even if they’d still been married. He has that none-of-my-family-has-worked-in-three-generations look about him, but I’d bet his Italian loafers he’s never worn out a pair of boots.”
Tyler nodded as if he knew what she was talking about.
“And besides”—Martha Q pointed her finger at some invisible point floating between her and Tyler—“who wasn’t married to Nevada Britain? Just split the population of Harmony and you’ll hit the number she’s planning on stopping at. Somehow I heard she talked Cord McDowell into marrying her the other day. Not that anyone else would want him, but—”
Tyler raised his eyebrow. He was not a man to gossip . . . at least not for long. “What makes you think Bryce is up to something illegal?”
She thought of mentioning how the man sometimes, when he thought no one was looking, would huff and puff as if fighting to control rage. He ate strange too. Eggs with no yolks, bread with no flour, milk that didn’t come from a cow. Everything else had to be fat, sugar, and caffeine free. The last time he gave the cook, Mrs. Biggs, his order for breakfast, she told him to just gnaw on the table until she got back. Martha Q didn’t usually pay much attention to the breakfast part of her business, but since Mr. Galloway arrived she’d been running to the store to pick up food that wasn’t even real.
There was no way out; she had to be honest with Tyler Wright. He’d know what to do. “It’s just a feeling,” she began. “It’s not any one thing he does or says. It’s more like the pieces of him just don’t fit together. I get the feeling I’ll be that person interviewed about how well I knew him.” She leaned forward. “I know men, Tyler, and I’m telling you this one is not right.”
“You want me to have the sheriff evict him from your place? I’m not sure how she’d do it, but you might be able to say you had folks coming in who needed the room.”
“No. I don’t want to make him mad. I just want you to tell Alex and a few of her deputies to keep an eye on him. He only lived here when he was married to Nevada, so he’s not one of us. I keep wondering what kind of business brought him back. Now think about it, Tyler; if you were rich and could live anywhere, would you move back to a little town and stay on the third floor of a bed-and-breakfast just to be next to an ex-wife who probably wishes you were dead?”
“How do you know that?”
Martha Q raised an eyebrow as if questioning his IQ. “Most ex-wives do; it’s a fact.”
Tyler shook his head. “If you don’t like having him under your roof, something needs to be done.”
“I’ll call Rick Matheson and take the lawyer to lunch. He’ll tell me how I can get him out of my inn with the least trouble.” They both nodded as if something had been settled.
Martha Q figured Tyler just thought he’d listened to the latest in a long line of problems she’d made up, and maybe he had. Since she didn’t have a quiet house to write in, she might as well make up drama in real life.
She finished off her coffee, tucked the rest of her scone into her purse for later, and made Tyler promise to talk to the sheriff. It shouldn’t be much of an inconvenience; he had breakfast with Hank and Alex once a week at the diner. Hank was the fire department chief, and his wife was the sheriff. Between the three of them they knew everything happening in Harmony.
When she drove back to the B&B, a man dressed in black was sitting on her porch steps. He was tall and thin, and for a moment, before he noticed Martha Q, he seemed to have the weight of the world on his shoulders.
Martha Q swore. She was starting to feel like her place was the pound for lost singles.
To the man’s credit, he stood when she headed toward him. A formal kind of stance, like a military man or butler. She’d guess him near sixty with beautiful silver-gray hair.
“Mrs. Patterson, I presume?”
“Correct.” He didn’t look like he was selling anything, but if she’d been a few years younger she might have been interested in buying. “I’m Martha Q Patterson.”
“I’m Anthony Carleon. I work for Marty Winslow, who I believe rented half of a duplex you own a few years back.”
“It’s rented right now, if he’s thinking of coming back.” Martha Q frowned. If Marty could afford to hire a man like this to work for him, surely he could get a better place than her duplex to live. It had been a dump when she and her first husband bought it almost forty years ago.
Anthony Carleon smiled. “Mrs. Patterson, if you’ll allow me a bit of time, I’ll try to explain the situation, but first I must ask if you have a room available here.” He motioned toward the house behind him. “I’m in need of lodging.”
“I have one left, but it’s on the third floor. Marty would never be able to get his wheelchair up there.”
“No, the room is for me. Marty will be staying at the duplex with your current tenant, Ronny Logan. Of course, we’ll expect you to increase the rent and we’ll check with you about upgrading or painting.”
Martha Q unlocked her door and turned back to Carleon. “This sounds like a sit-down story. Won’t you step into the parlor, Mr. Carleon?”
Half an hour later she handed Carleon the key to the third-floor bedroom next to Bryce Galloway. As her latest boarder moved up the stairs with his one suitcase, she thought of calling Dallas Logan and giving her a heart attack. The old bag had been making up stories about her poor homely daughter ever since she moved out. When Dallas heard that her only child had a man living with her, Dallas would take it like a full-power Taser jolt.
Chapter 14
RONNY LOGAN WASN’T SURE SHE’D SLEPT AT ALL AFTER signing the papers and leaving the hospital. Her world was about to change. She’d always dreamed Marty Winslow would come back to her, but she’d never thought it would be to die.
As she stepped out of the Lincoln one last time, she wondered if the long black car would be coming with them. Somehow she doubted it.
Ross and Ivan called and said all was ready at her place by the time Ronny walked into the front of the huge hospital. They told her Doc had already sent a nurse with all the equipment needed. Mr. Carleon, of course, had driven over yesterday to make arrangements, then driven back to the hospital to see that Marty’s things were loaded properly. A little after dawn he’d be following the ambulance toward Harmony.
As she walked down the front hallway for the first time, Ronny answered Ross’s questions on her cell and added, “I think it would be nice if Marty could see out the front windows from his bed.”
“We already got it, Ronny. Mr. Carleon found a few extra chairs and a cot for the nurse on the night shift. We’ll have everything ready by the time you arrive.”
Ronny clicked the phone off as she reached Marty’s hospital room door.
“Ready?” Mr. Carleon interrupted as he stepped into the hall. “If we leave soon, his brother isn’t likely to confront us.”
Ronny nodded. The sooner she got him away, the better.
Marty was either asleep or drugged so heavily he didn’t make a sound when the EMTs moved him. Even with Doc running the show, moving a man from this hospital was like prodding a near-frozen snake along. One minute everyone at the hospital thought they were in charge and needed to be checked with, and the next no one was responsible for anything.
Once they were on the road, Doc insisted she sit in the chair next to the driver, and within minutes Ronny drifted to sleep to the low sounds of the machines just behind her and the rhythm of the road beating out the miles until she was home.
She sometimes dreamed that Marty had never been hurt and they’d fallen in love and married just like all happy couples
. Only even in her dreams she knew she would have never met him if he hadn’t been crippled and hiding away in Harmony.
A small part of her wondered if she wasn’t more needed than loved. If he’d been walking, running a business, wheeling and dealing, she never would fit into his world. Only now with him hurt and dying, she’d made room for him in her world.
She remembered he’d said something that always echoed in her memories of their days together. “In a perfect world,” he’d said, “I know we would find each other. Some people are just meant to cross paths.”
Chapter 15
BOXED B RANCH
CORD PULLED THE POWERFUL PICKUP BEHIND THE HOUSE and parked next to his twenty-year-old truck. He’d driven his pickup only once since the day they married. Galem had handed him the keys to the special-edition Ford F-450 Platinum and said, “You’ll need the power, Boss.”
Cord smiled, remembering how he’d driven out to a dirt road and spent an hour reading the owner’s manual. The learning curve around this place was huge. Surprisingly, a few of the courses he’d taken in prison helped. The auto mechanics and computer classes along with the two he’d taken on bookkeeping were wonderful, but he still hadn’t figured out how to work the cell phone. Not that it mattered. The only person he wanted to call was Nevada.
She’d been home all day and he’d been working. So many little things were going wrong on the land, like fences cut and gates left open, that he was starting to wonder if a few of the men he’d fired weren’t coming back to pester him. Today, even though it was Sunday, he’d been out driving the roads, checking. At noon he hadn’t made it in for lunch because a farmer wanted to meet him to buy off the last of Cord’s equipment on his parents’ place.
The money was enough to pay off the loan on his land, but Cord knew if the marriage didn’t make the eight-month mark he’d be hurting. Owning the land, even the three hundred acres Nevada had signed over, wouldn’t help if he had no money to buy what he needed to farm.
When he walked into the house, he grabbed an apple and ate it as he ambled around looking for Nevada. His mind was on an idea he’d had of using the new land to raise horses. A stream ran through the land most months, and two windmills would serve the dry times. He didn’t want to have fancy horses like she raised, but good strong ranch horses. He might even use Devil for stud.
Cord found her in her little upstairs study. She was so engrossed in painting she didn’t even notice him watching her until he crunched down on the apple.
“Want to tell me what you’re doing?” he asked.
“Nope,” she answered. “Want to tell me where you’ve been?”
“Nope,” he echoed. If he told her of some of the problems, she’d just worry, and he was doing enough of that for them both.
He watched her a minute, wondering how this angry woman could possibly be the same person he cuddled with at night. Something was bothering her, but he had no idea what. She went back to painting and he stood at the door. He hadn’t been invited in.
She signed the painting and smiled. “Finished,” she said as she turned the canvas to face him.
Cord grinned. “Very good.” A horse standing in a pasture. It was nice, real nice, but what kept him smiling was that she’d signed her initials NM, not NB. She’d meant it when she’d said she wanted his name.
“Want to go into town and have supper? We could walk the town square.”
She made a face. “Sounds charming.”
Cord frowned. “Does that mean yes or no?”
She was out of her chair so fast he didn’t have time to get out of the doorway before she bumped her way around him and headed downstairs. “Yes. I’ll go. Why not?”
Cord figured he’d pushed conversation to the limit, so he just waited downstairs. He didn’t have long to review their confusing conversation before she stormed out of the bedroom with her jacket and purse. When she bumped past him on her way outside, he decided he was no more than a turnstile.
He followed and was surprised to see her climb into his truck instead of her little car she usually drove back and forth to town, but he didn’t ask questions. He just headed to town.
They were halfway there before she spoke. “There’s something I should tell you. I’ve heard that my ex-husband is in town. Has been for a few days, I think.”
“I’m not giving you back,” Cord said simply, and winked at her.
To his surprise, she laughed. “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t go back.”
Cord decided now was as good a time to ask as any. “How do you think we’re doing?”
“Good. I’m happy with the agreement. You?”
He thought about it for a while before answering. “It’s different than I thought it would be. The days are long and the work is hard, but you and me, we seem to be getting by.” From the way she’d cuddled close last night, he could have no complaints. “We mostly just stay out of each other’s way.”
He stopped at a Mexican food place she claimed she’d never noticed. She ordered a salad and he ordered a platter. It was so noisy they barely talked, but he felt a little of the tension leave her. While they waited for the check, he rested his hand over hers, and she didn’t pull away. He had no idea if she liked it, but touching her hand made him feel more normal, like they were just another couple out for dinner.
When they walked out, all four tires on his truck had been slashed.
Cord walked around the truck twice, swearing to himself. When he passed her the second time, he asked, “Got any idea who might do this?”
“Several,” she said. “One of the men you fired. Any one of my three ex-husbands. Wild kids causing damage just for the hell of it. Some guy who thought you got his parking place.”
Cord rolled his shoulders to relax. “In other words, anyone.”
“Pretty much.”
Nevada wanted to call the sheriff’s office, but Cord didn’t want them involved. The chances were slim they’d catch whoever did it, but he’d bet the cop coming out would know him and give him a hard time. He didn’t care about the cop, or the hard time, but he didn’t want Nevada to see him as all the cops around saw him. An ex-con. A wild kid who’d sent a sheriff’s deputy to the hospital with one punch. Cord would have to keep his gaze to the ground and be extra polite, but they’d still talk to him like they knew he must be doing something illegal.
“I could call Galem,” Nevada suggested. “If you insist on not calling the sheriff.”
“Galem and Ora Mae are at their cabin at the lake. He said they didn’t plan to drive in until early tomorrow.”
“We could walk home.” She began to pace.
“Not in those heels, you can’t. I’d end up carrying you the last few miles.”
“I could call a cab,” she smiled.
“Or we could catch the subway.” He bought into her joke. The closest thing Harmony had to mass transit was the little Joy bus that picked up folks at the nursing homes on Sunday for church.
A tall man dressed in a black suit walked past them. He paused, and in the twilight Cord saw intelligent eyes take in the crime and understand.
Cord expected him to walk on. No one in town ever spoke to him, and Nevada didn’t speak to anyone she didn’t have to. But the man turned toward them as formal as a royal guard.
“Pardon me for interrupting, but do you two need a lift? I have to drop off a takeout order to my employer a few blocks away, but if you don’t mind waiting, I’d be glad to take you somewhere.”
Cord could already see Nevada shaking her head, but he answered, “We’d be much obliged, but we live a few miles out of town.”
“No problem.” The man smiled as if happy to be of service.
They crammed into the front of a U-Haul van with takeout orders in their laps. Nevada looked like she thought she was being kidnapped, but Cord relaxed.
When the tall man started the van, Cord listened as he shifted and said, “Sounds like the transmission is going out.”
“I fear you
may be right. As soon as I get time to unload it, I plan to turn it in. This was a sudden move, and I had to take whatever they had. My employer is very ill, so his needs have to come first before the unpacking or my frustration.”
They drove a few blocks toward downtown before he pulled up at an old duplex. Nevada held on to Cord’s leg as if she feared death coming. He spread his hand over hers, but she didn’t relax. He wished he could tell her that he’d seen enough bad guys in his life to know the gentleman in black wasn’t one of them.
“I’ll be a few minutes dropping these off.” The man added, “I hope you don’t mind waiting.”
The thin fellow was so polite, Cord felt bad for adding to what was obviously a long day for him. “If you don’t mind me taking a look under the hood, maybe I can make sure this engine lasts until you get it turned in.”
Carleon straightened, then smiled. “I would be much obliged.” He said the words with the same Texas drawl that Cord had used. “I’ll just deliver these to the people inside and make sure the night nurse has arrived.”
Nevada pouted while Cord looked at the engine. Finally, she got tired of waiting and climbed out to stand next to him. “We should have just called someone,” she whispered. “Who knows how long we’ll be stuck here? One of the guys at the bunkhouse could have come into town and picked us up.”
“Sorry, Princess.”
“Don’t call me that, and why do I have to be nice to this stranger? I’ve never seen him before and I’ll probably never see him again.”
“You don’t know how to be nice, do you, Princess?” Cord didn’t bother to look at her. He knew she was pouting.
She caught him on the shoulder with a jab that surprised him so much he jerked up, banging his head on the open hood.
When he stepped back, rubbing his scalp, the tall man stood three feet away.
“Everything all right?”
“Yeah, I was just having a discussion with my wife. She tends to storm.” Cord winked at her as if they’d been playing.
