by Joanna Wayne
“I hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time. Are you still with Sydney?”
“I am. We’re in my truck and my phone is on Speaker. What’s on your mind?”
“I know how important it is for you to be with Sydney right now, but I just got off the phone with Dani. She says Constance wants to know when she’s going to see her uncle Tucker.”
“I’d like to spend some time with her and Jaci. Maybe tonight.”
“That’s why I’m calling. We’re talking about having a family dinner tonight. Nothing fancy, just a few of your favorites. Fried chicken. Fresh peas from the garden.”
“You do know how to lure me in. Throw in a banana pudding and I’m there.”
“Banana pudding is a given when you’re in town.”
“I’m not exactly sure what time we’ll get back there, so don’t make it before seven.”
“You’ll come, too, won’t you, Sydney?” Esther asked.
“I think it’s best if I don’t. I would only be a drag on the party atmosphere.”
“Everyone understands what you’re going through, so they won’t be expecting frivolity or bubbly from you. And you can meet my two adorable granddaughters.”
“I’d love to meet them.”
“And you have to eat to keep up your energy. So it’s settled?”
“Settled,” she agreed. “I have to work tonight, but I’ll make time for dinner.”
A boisterous, loving family was probably not what she needed right now. But they had all done so much for Sydney, she could hardly say no, especially knowing it would mean so much to Esther.
After Tucker broke the connection, he reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. “I won’t let them hold you to the dinner promise if you’re not up to it.”
She hadn’t stopped to think that he might not want her there, throwing a damper on the gathering with his family. He was giving her his days. He might well want his nights to himself. She wondered again about the decisions he was making and if they involved a woman.
“When you said work, you didn’t mean you’re planning to go out trolling for the perp alone, did you?” Tucker asked. “Because if you are, I need to call Esther right now and cancel my dinner plans.”
“No,” she said. “I’ll be working at the ranch, but you can’t follow me around forever, Tucker. You must have bulls waiting.”
“The bulls and I are taking a break.”
She wasn’t sure what that meant, but she went back to watching the pastoral scenes fly by as the road became hillier. She was certain she’d never seen this many cows, bulls and horses in her life.
They passed a huge red barn on the east side of the road that she was certain she’d seen before. The land to the west of them was fenced with barbwire but heavily wooded. “Is this where we were this morning?”
“If we turned down the next dirt imitation of a road we come to and followed to the top of the waterfall we’d end up in the same exact spot. Another mile down this road and we’ll arrive at Dudley’s spread.”
“Then it would be possible for the perp and Michelle to have driven the car to the waterfall and then ridden horses or an all-terrain vehicle back to land belonging to Dudley Miles without ever getting on anything except dirt roads.”
“It’s possible,” Tucker admitted. “It’s also possible they rode west into an area of dozens of small farms and weekend ranches owned by people who like to get out of town and experience the country lifestyle when they can.”
“I strongly suspect Sheriff Cavazos checked all those out before he requested help from the FBI.”
“He’s likely checked out Dudley’s wranglers, as well.”
“I’ll still feel better after I meet Dudley Miles for myself.”
The wooded area gave way to lush green rolling hills and a seemingly unending strand of white-painted farm fencing that had cost someone a small fortune.
Tucker pulled up and stopped in front of a magnificent double-arched black iron gate. Two huge black ironwork stallions were built into the fence, their front feet reared up as if they were about to attack each other. Their heads and long necks extended over the top edge of the gate. Two brick columns supported the gate.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a gate that impressive,” Sydney said. “It’s like a piece of expensive art.”
“I’m sure it cost like one, too.” Tucker lowered his window, reached out and punched a button on the brick support post. The gate swung open.
“I’m surprised it wasn’t locked,” Sydney said.
“No one does a lot of locking gates around here. Never needed to until now. I suspect that might change if an arrest is not made soon.”
Once the gate had closed behind them, Tucker made a call to Dudley to let him know he had company.
“Tucker Lawrence. I heard you were in town. Glad you found time to stop by and see me. I’m out checking on the hay baling, so you’ll have to give me a few minutes to get back to the house.”
“No problem.”
“Wait on the porch if you don’t mind. Millie’s usually napping this time of day. Better not to wake her.”
Tucker made a couple of turns on a winding road before the house came into view. It was a far cry from what she’d expected. “Wow! We’re not in Kansas anymore. I’m not even sure we’re in Texas. Who knew ranchers lived like this?”
* * *
“I CAN ASSURE you that most don’t,” Tucker said as he climbed from the truck and hurried over to open her door. “The most popular rumor is that Millie Miles got stuck in the pages of Gone with the Wind and never escaped.”
“She has all the antebellum trappings. Second-and third-floor wraparound verandas. Wide, winding staircase. Huge white columns. Beautiful garden. All she needs is Rhett Butler.”
“She doesn’t need him. She has a cowboy,” Tucker teased. “To set the record straight, that is never settling for less.”
“You could be biased. I’ll reserve judgment until I’ve met the man,” Sydney said.
They took the paved walk to the steps. He put a hand to the small of her back as they climbed the stairs to the shaded veranda. Once there, Sydney settled into a cushioned rocker. Tucker propped against one of the support columns.
It had been several years since Tucker had been to the Eagle’s Nest Ranch and he’d forgotten how pretentious and out of place the house was among the rolling pastures of the Texas Hill Country.
“The first time I visited this ranch was years before I went to live with Esther and Charlie,” he said, sliding far back into his past. “I was in the first or possibly the second grade. My class made a field trip out here so that us ‘town’ kids could get a taste of life on a working ranch.”
“Is that trip what inspired you to become a bull rider?”
“No, that came years later, when I didn’t get a contract from the NFL and realized I might have to take a real job. But I had been competing in bull-riding events for years by then.”
“But even as a kid, you must have been impressed with all this.”
“You got it. I went home and told my mother we’d been to the White House and met the president. When she stopped laughing, she tried to convince me differently. It took a lot of explaining to persuade me I was wrong.”
Sydney laughed. The sound caught him by surprise. It was the first time he’d enlisted more than a tentative smile from her. He loved hearing it, but the joy was immediately choked off by a knot of revulsion and bitterness.
His muscles bunched. If he could get to the monster who was putting Sydney, Rachel and so many others through this hell, he’d swear he could kill the man with his bare hands. It was a brand of hatred he’d never experienced before.
Tucker heard the clopping of approaching hooves and looked up to see Dudley riding toward t
hem on a splendid black steed. He climbed out of the saddle and tethered the animal to a low branch of a young oak tree several feet away from the porch.
Dudley grinned broadly as he climbed the stairs. His shoulders were stooped and the hair that had been almost black a few years back was almost completely gray. His ruddy, wrinkled flesh might pass for leather. The years since his grandson’s tragic death had clearly not been kind to him.
Dudley extended a weathered, callused hand. “Great to see you, Tucker. You look fit, as always.” The two of them shook hands before Dudley turned toward Sydney.
“And this is Sydney Maxwell. You must have heard of her by now.”
“Yes. News does travel fast in Winding Creek.”
Sydney extended her hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Miles.”
He shook her hand. “Just call me Dudley. Everyone does.”
“Have you talked to the sheriff lately?” Tucker asked.
“Yep. He was out earlier today, doing what he called routine questioning of some of my wranglers. It was a waste of time and I told him so. I know my men. They may not be sophisticated but they’re hard workers and they’re honest. Otherwise, they don’t last past their first payday.”
“Sometimes people can fool you,” Sydney said.
“Sometimes,” Dudley agreed. “But I can still assure you I don’t have any perverted, murderous kidnappers working for me. Anyway, Cavazos mentioned that one of the FBI agents on this case was a sister to one of the victims and staying with Esther Kavanaugh. I reckon that’s you.”
“Yes. I’m hoping to find someone who might have seen my sister, Rachel, while she was in Winding Creek. Someone who would know if she was alone or seemed to be in distress. I know they’re familiar with a few details of the other missing women by now, but no one has likely heard of Rachel.”
“Good idea. It’s nice Tucker is here to show you around the town. We don’t see much of him. I suppose he told you he’s a big-time bull-riding champion.”
“I didn’t tell it nearly as well as you just did,” Tucker said.
“All you Lawrence brothers are much too modest. But to get back to the crisis at hand. Does the FBI have any suspects?”
“Not that I know of,” Sydney said. “Hopefully that will change soon.”
“I’d like to do something to help before you leave. What about my offering a reward for information leading to the women’s rescue?”
“That’s a generous offer,” Tucker acknowledged.
“I like to help in cases like this when I can. Give it some thought,” he added when Sydney didn’t jump on the offer. “Just tell me how much you think would be appropriate and I’ll write you a check.”
Dudley pulled a key from his pocket, unlocked the front door and pushed it open. “C’mon in. I’m already as hot and sweaty as I can get, but no reason for the two of you to stand out here in the heat.”
They followed him through the house and onto a glassed-in porch that ran the length of the back of the house. The room overlooked a kidney-shaped pool surrounded by chic outdoor furniture and huge pots of blooming plants. No beach towels in sight. No floats. Every lounge chair was perfectly straight.
Tucker wondered how long it had been since anyone had actually swum in the pool. Even the room they were in now seemed more for show than relaxing. Sydney chose a straight-back love seat. He sat down beside her.
“If you two will excuse me for a minute, I need to call Becker to come get my mount and see that he’s put away properly. Then I’m going to grab myself a tall glass of iced tea. What can I bring you to drink? A beer? Cocktail? It’s five o’clock somewhere.”
“Iced tea sounds good,” Sydney said.
“Nothing for me,” Tucker said.
As soon as Dudley left the room, Sydney leaned in close. “Do you think he really meant the offer of a reward?”
“I’m sure he did. Charlie always said that if your mule was in a ditch, his best friend Dudley would be along with a tractor to pull you out, and then offer you a new mule to go with the one he’d rescued.”
“He and Charlie must have been very close.”
“They were. Friends from back in their high school years. They were always there for each other.”
Except Dudley obviously hadn’t come rushing in with a check when Charlie was drowning in debt and about to lose the ranch and the house. Of course, Charlie was so damned independent, he’d probably never let Dudley know how bad things were.
Dudley rejoined them with the two glasses of tea in hand. He set one atop a coaster on a small mahogany table next to Sydney and took a chair opposite them.
Dudley leaned back and crossed a foot over the opposite knee. “How’s the bull-riding business going, Tucker?” he asked, casually changing the subject from Rachel’s disappearance as if they were here to shoot the bull.
“I’ve had a good year.” Good enough that he could be headed to a national championship win if he could get his head on straight.
“Glad to hear that. I’ve caught your performances a few times on TV this year. Not often since I tend to fall asleep in my chair about ten minutes after I turn on the TV at night. The announcers can’t say enough good things about you.”
“I’ve been lucky.”
“Some, but mostly you’ve worked hard at it. Plus you’re a natural. Charlie was so proud of you and your brothers. I couldn’t believe the change that came over him and Esther when you three boys moved in with them. It’s a shame they couldn’t have kids of their own.”
“Were you and Charlie close friends?” Sydney asked.
Tucker had already had this conversation with Sydney and had no idea where she was going now.
“We didn’t see that much of each other over the last few years. I wish I’d kept up with him better, but we still got together occasionally to go hunting or fishing. He was a good man. It took the heart and soul right out of Esther when he committed suicide. Only thing that saved her was having Riley and Pierce and their families move in around her.”
“She believes he was murdered,” Sydney said.
That explained where this was heading, but surely she didn’t think there was a link between Charlie’s death and Rachel’s abduction.
“When I first heard the news, I thought suicide didn’t seem at all like Charlie,” Dudley said. “He was a man of faith and conviction and I couldn’t see him leaving Esther for any reason. But he was shot with his own gun. No other fingerprints on it. No evidence that anyone had been anywhere near the barn that day but him. Sheriff Cavazos said it was obvious suicide and I had no reason to doubt him.”
“Cavazos told Riley and Pierce the same thing,” Tucker said. “He assured them the investigation had been thorough and there was no evidence of foul play.”
Dudley sipped his tea and then licked moisture from his bottom lip. “You know, I don’t think I ever told anyone this, but Charlie paid me a visit a few days before he took his life.”
“Did he talk about his debt problems?”
“No. If he had I would have bailed him out. You know that. He came because he was worried about me, though he must have been horrified of losing his ranch and the only life he and Esther had ever known.”
Sydney uncrossed her legs and leaned forward. “What did he tell you?”
“That he knew I was lying to protect Angela and that I would never have gotten drunk when I was supposed to be tending my grandson, that I would never have dumped his small body in the woods.”
“Shows how well he knew you,” Tucker said.
“He said he had proof and that if I didn’t tell the truth in court, he was going to take his proof to the sheriff. Looking back, I ’spect he might have done just that if he’d stayed alive awhile longer.”
“And you wouldn’t have gone to prison for Angela’s crim
e,” Sydney said. “You’re certain you never told anyone about this?”
“Nope. Probably shouldn’t have mentioned it to you now. God knows I don’t want anything said that will upset my wife any more than she already is.”
“How is Millie?” Tucker asked.
“She goes through some of the motions of living, but it’s like there’s no heart left in her. She goes into town a couple of days a week, runs a few errands, goes to church, sometimes even has lunch with old friends.
“Crazy thing is she can’t stay in the house all day yet can’t stand driving. Sometimes she insists she needs one of my wranglers to drive her where she wants to go.”
“Good thing you have one to spare,” Tucker said. “Pierce says good help is getting hard to find.”
“True. That’s one reason I’ve never moved any of my livestock over to that strip of land I bought from Mike Kurlacky when he got the gout so bad he couldn’t take care of himself, much less his cattle.”
“Is that land lying idle?”
“More or less. Millie gave one of my wranglers, Roy Sales, use of it to raise some hogs while I was in prison. He’s living there now, but I’d take it back if you ever decide to settle down back here in Winding Creek and want to buy it. Plenty of room to raise some rodeo stock.”
“That day might not be too far away.”
“Roy did all the repairs on the house while I was in prison. Millie said she wanted to do something to pay him back. But enough of that. I know you came here to talk about more urgent stuff than hogs and cattle.”
Sydney reached into her handbag and took out the photo of Rachel. “I’d appreciate it if you’d take a look at my sister’s photo and tell me if you remember ever seeing her in Winding Creek.”
Dudley studied the photo. “She doesn’t look familiar. Unless she was hanging out at the hardware store, the feed and tack store or the saddle repair shop, it’s not likely I’d have run into her.”
“What I’m really hoping for is to find out who she might have been seen with before she disappeared.”
