by Janet Dailey
Tori sighed. “Maybe it’s time I told you. You sound as if you need to hear this.”
As the miles sped by, Tori told her the story—how Bull had tried to dominate the marriage and how Will had been caught in the conflict between his wife and his father. “After I lost the baby and found out I couldn’t have more children, Bull treated me like a failure,” she said. “I begged Will to find us another place to live. But after Bull’s accident, that was out of the question. Will needed to be there to oversee his father’s care and run the ranch.”
“Why didn’t you leave on your own?”
“I could have. But I still loved Will, and we both adored Erin. So I hung on . . . until I couldn’t hang on any longer.”
Tori began the final chapter—how her father had died in Florida and Will had been too busy to join her for the funeral.
“And that was the final blow? That he wouldn’t be there for you?”
“Not quite.” This was the hard part—the part she hadn’t told Drew or even Natalie. But Lauren needed to hear it all. “There was a man,” she said, “a longtime friend of my father’s. He was widowed and made no bones about being attracted to me, but I wasn’t the least bit interested. He was just a friend, and barely that.
“When he heard about my father’s death, he flew down from Washington, D.C., and did his best to be kind and helpful. Yes, maybe he was a little too friendly, but without Will there, I needed some support. My mother was a wreck, so I had to make a lot of the arrangements. I truly appreciated his help.
“Two days before the funeral, Will changed his mind and decided to come. He phoned the house to let me know. My mother took the call and told him I’d gone to lunch with this man. She went on and on about how helpful he’d been and how much I’d appreciated his being there. Will hung up the phone and went ballistic.”
Tori turned onto the street that led to the hospital. “When I didn’t hear from him for the next three days, I gave him a call. He ripped me up one side and down the other—pretty much accused me of having an affair, which couldn’t have been further from the truth. That was when I knew it was over. I came home two weeks later with divorce papers. End of story.”
Tori pulled into the hospital parking lot. How trivial it all sounded in the retelling—two proud, stubborn people who’d had a misunderstanding and couldn’t forgive each other. But at the time it hadn’t been trivial at all. It had been like the end of the world.
“And the man?” Lauren spoke as if she already knew. “Who was he?”
Tori pulled into a parking spot, turned off the engine, and unfastened her seat belt. “Congressman Garn Prescott, of course—your father.”
* * *
After Natalie’s phone call Sheriff Abner Sweeney had driven back to town to pick up his wife. Bethel sat beside him now, her plump body rigid, her narrow-lipped mouth fixed in a straight line. She’d agreed to go with Abner. But he could sense her inner struggle. She had cast her daughter out for her sin. Now righteous judgment warred with compassion and motherly love.
Bethel, a preacher’s only daughter, had grown up with her father’s ironclad values. She’d raised her children as she had been raised, never dreaming that she’d one day be faced with an agonizing choice like this one.
“So Vonda and the baby are all right?” she asked Abner for perhaps the third time.
“That’s what Natalie told me.”
“But she doesn’t know her husband’s dead?”
“That’s what I understand. Natalie said it was our place to tell her.”
“You tell her, then. You’re used to doing things like that.”
“Fine, I’ll tell her. But you need to be there.” Abner was already wondering how Ralph had died. Natalie hadn’t offered any details. Had Vonda’s husband perished fighting the blaze? Or . . . but no, that didn’t make sense. Why on earth would Ralph set fire to his employer’s barn—especially if he couldn’t make it out of the barn in time to save his own life?
Ralph’s pickup sat in the graveled driveway, in front of Natalie’s SUV. The old rust bucket wasn’t fit for anything but scrap. He could sell it and give Vonda the money toward a decent car. Lord knows, she was going to need it.
Strange that Ralph wouldn’t have driven to fight the fire. Covering the distance on foot would have wasted precious minutes. Had somebody else picked him up? Or had he walked to the barn before the fire started?
For now, those questions would have to wait. Abner had a job to do, but he was also a father. His helpless, grieving daughter needed him, and he would be there for her.
Natalie came out onto the stoop as they pulled up. She hadn’t been friendly to Abner since that mess with Beau last spring. But at least she’d come when Vonda needed help.
“Your daughter and the baby seem fine,” she said before they could speak. “But just to be sure, you’ll want to get them checked out by a real doctor, at the hospital.”
“Thank you,” Abner said. “I’ve been wondering about Ralph. How did he—”
“They found his body after the fire was out. That’s all I know.”
“And they don’t know what started it?”
“You’ll have to ask the fire crew. Right now, your daughter needs you—and I need to go.” She strode out to her vehicle. By the time she drove away, Bethel had already hurried inside. Abner followed her.
Vonda, looking so young and scared that it almost broke his heart, was sitting up in bed, clutching her baby in her arms. She was wearing a clean nightgown, and the sheets looked as if they’d been changed. But his daughter’s face was pale, her hair plastered in damp strings around her face. She was gazing down at her infant son, as if she had no idea what to do with him.
Bethel was bustling around the room, straightening this and that, avoiding eye contact with her daughter. His wife would come around, Abner thought. It just might take some time.
“Hello, Daddy.” Vonda managed a wan smile. “Would you like to hold my baby? His name is Ralph—Ralph Junior.”
Abner took his grandson and cradled him close. The pink, puckered face, flattened nose, and tiny, waving hands tugged at his heartstrings—a familiar ache that felt strangely sweet.
Abner knew he wasn’t the best man in the world. He’d skated the edge of dishonesty more times than he liked to think about. But he loved his family. The instant bond with this little boy was like the closing of a lock. Whatever happened, he vowed, he would protect this child and see that he and his mother never wanted for anything. He’d been wrong about a lot of things, like letting Bethel banish their daughter. But nothing could be more right than the fierce love he felt for this small, new life. In every way it made him want to be a better man.
Vonda looked up at him. “Daddy, where’s Ralphie? He’s supposed to be here.”
Abner shook his head, knowing he had to face the hurt in her eyes.
“Has something happened to him?” Her voice broke. “Is that why you and Mama are here?” Her gaze widened as the truth struck her. “No!” she whispered. Then her voice broke into a keening wail. “No! Please, God, not Ralphie! No! No!”
“It’s all right, honey.” Bethel leaned over the bed to gather her daughter in her arms. “It was God’s will, to pay for your sin and bring you back to us. We’re here now. We’ll take care of you.”
* * *
Abner and Bethel had agreed it would be wise to take Vonda and the baby to the hospital. While Bethel got her ready to go, Abner stepped out onto the stoop and called in a pair of his deputies to investigate the fire. He would follow up on his own, later in the day. The blaze at the Tyler place was too well-timed to be an accident. He would bet money there was arson involved, maybe murder as well. And the key to it all could be his late son-in-law.
Abner had never thought much of Ralph Jackson. The boy was short on brains and ambition, and he hadn’t made much effort to keep Vonda happy. But at least, with the Tylers, he’d had a secure job and a place to live. It didn’t make sense that he’d
risk it all by setting fire to the barn.
Maybe somebody else had set the fire and Ralph had caught them in the act. That could be reason enough to get him killed—but that theory would have to wait for the coroner’s report. Abner was no Sherlock Holmes. But along with his experience and the reading he’d done, he knew how crime solving worked. If he could put this case to bed, it would raise his standing with the county government and the voters. Maybe, then, Clay Drummond would stop treating him like a damned stooge.
Bethel was taking her time getting Vonda ready for the hospital trip. Probably a lot of emotion going on. Abner was getting restless, when his gaze fell on Ralph’s old truck. As long as he was here, just standing around, it wouldn’t hurt to check it out.
He pulled a pair of latex gloves from the box he kept in his SUV, tugged them on, and walked over to the truck.
The driver’s-side door was unlocked. No sign of the keys, but Ralph could’ve had them in his pocket. The floor was littered with empty Dos Equis beer cans and Snickers wrappers. Mummified French fries, cookie crumbs, and empty ketchup packets were lodged in the crease below the seat backs.
In the unlocked glove box, Abner found some gas receipts and a yellowed copy of the truck registration. Underneath these was a half-empty pack of condoms. No surprise there. Vonda’s better off without the cheating bastard. But there was nothing here that might link Ralph to the fire in the barn.
Abner was about to climb out of the truck, when he saw that his shoelace was undone. Bending down to tie it, he noticed a crumpled plastic Shop Mart bag stuffed way back under the driver’s seat. It was probably just more trash, but he’d be remiss to leave it.
With some stretching and grunting, he reached it, caught the corner, and gave a pull. He’d expected it to be empty, but the bag had a surprising heft to it. After dragging it free of the seat, he sat up, took a breath, and untied the knotted handles to look inside.
Abner’s stomach lurched. Cold sweat beaded under his uniform. The bag was stuffed with cash—lots of cash, most of it in hundred-dollar bills.
* * *
Lauren sat on a folding chair next to Sky’s hospital bed, listening to the labored sound of his breathing. Lightly sedated, Sky was veiled by a misted oxygen tent. Fluid dripped into an IV tube connected to his wrist. A beeping monitor above the bed tracked his pulse and blood pressure, as well as his oxygen level, which had been fearfully low at first, but was beginning to rise.
She yearned to put her arms around him, or at least hold his gel-bandaged hands. But that, she knew, would only cause him more pain. The doctor had said he would live. Sky was young and strong, he’d told her. His vitals were good, considering what he’d been through. His second-degree burns should heal in a few weeks. But he’d inhaled enough smoke to damage his lungs—that was the real worry. Another minute in that burning barn would have killed him.
She gazed down at the modest diamond engagement ring on her finger—the ring she hadn’t taken off in the three months since Sky had placed it there. She’d accepted his proposal without a moment’s hesitation. But now she had to face reality and ask herself the hard question. Could she really do this—open herself to heartbreak again?
Mike, her first fiancé, had jumped off a bridge and drowned. Her father had died of a heart attack after shooting himself. Now she’d fallen in love with a man who took reckless chances for others, heedless of his own safety.
Lauren had heard how, last spring, Sky had been shot trying to save his worthless young cousin Lute. And in last summer’s wildfire, he’d risked death, refusing to leave the ranch until every last animal was evacuated. This was Sky’s way, throwing himself in the path of deadly danger for the sake of any living creature that needed him.
She needed him, damn it, especially now. But today in that blazing barn, his mind wouldn’t have been on their losing each other. And even if he’d known about the baby, he wouldn’t have been thinking about their unborn child. All his intent had been focused on rescuing his beloved horses.
What would she do the next time something happened? And, ranch life being what it was, there would no doubt be a next time. How could she go on living if she lost him?
Lauren’s agitated fingers toyed with her ring, twisting it, sliding it up past her knuckle, then back into place. I can take it off right now, she told herself. She could leave it on the side table and walk out of his life—move far away from here and never tell him about the baby. She had enough money to go anywhere she wanted. How hard could it be? Sky was the center of her world—but did she love him enough to face the prospect of losing him?
Settling back against the hard chair, she thought about Tori and Will and the forces that had driven them apart. Their divorce had been a bitter one. But Lauren could sense the fierce undercurrent of love that still flowed between them. How would things be different if, that one last time, they’d swallowed their pride and forgiven each other? Would they and their daughter be a happy family now?
What if she couldn’t forgive Sky for the terrible risk he’d taken? What if she were to give up and walk away? Could she live with that decision for the rest of her life?
Rising, she gazed down at the man she loved to the roots of her soul. Sky Fletcher was who he was, and she knew better than to believe he would change, even for her.
Knowing what she knew, could she find the courage to build a future with this man?
With effort he opened his eyes, gazing up at her through the transparent oxygen tent. His cracked lips moved, forming her name.
“Lauren . . .”
She couldn’t hear his voice, but it was enough. Her hand reached out to press his shoulder. “I’m here,” she whispered, knowing it was true. She was his, and she was here to stay.
* * *
Will had been checked over, treated for minor burns, and released; but he’d refused to leave the hospital until Sky was stabilized and in the ICU, with Lauren watching over him. “I’ll be back first thing tomorrow,” he’d told the doctors. “Call me if he needs anything.”
As they walked out to the parking lot, Tori keeping pace with his long strides, the depth of his concern prompted her to voice something she’d suspected for years.
“Sky’s your brother, isn’t he?”
“Right now, that doesn’t make much difference,” Will said. “I’d be just as worried either way.”
“But he is, isn’t he? I’ve always wondered. He’s as much like Bull as you are, only in different ways.”
Without answering, Will moved ahead of her and opened the passenger-side door of her station wagon. “Give me your keys and get in,” he said. “I’m driving.”
“Is that wise?”
“Keys.” He held out his hand. With a sigh Tori opened her purse and handed him her keys. Regarding Will, she’d long since learned to choose her battles. This was no time for a useless argument.
He drove like he was angry—not at her, but at the horrific circumstances of the day. A treasured family holiday had been ruined, but that was the least of it. He’d also lost the barn on the brink of winter, with a storm due in, any day. Even if the insurance would pay much of the rebuilding cost, he couldn’t buy time. He couldn’t buy back the life of the man who’d died in the fire or the weeks Sky would need to heal from the trauma that almost killed him.
And he couldn’t delay the trial, now less than a week away, with a possible outcome that could separate him from everything, and everyone, he’d ever loved.
Tori’s gaze traced his defiant profile, lingering on the twitching muscle in his cheek. She knew Will, and she knew how much he was hurting. Part of her yearned to wrap him in her arms and tell him everything would be all right. But that would be a lie—the last thing Will would want to hear.
It was all up to her, Tori realized. If she could win an acquittal for Will, he would find a way to fight through and save the ranch. If she lost, the entire burden of the ranch, the barn, and the money problems would fall on Beau. In his own way Beau was
as strong as Will. But he’d left once, years ago, after having it out with Bull. If things got bad enough, she wouldn’t put it past him to throw up his hands, take Natalie and their baby, and return to his government job in the East.
“I got a call from Natalie,” she said, feeling the need to break the uneasy silence. “Ralph Jackson’s wife had a baby boy. Abner and his wife showed up and took them both to the hospital.”
Will exhaled, easing his grip on the wheel. “It’s a good thing they stepped up. I’ll have Beau look into our insurance. Since her husband died in the fire, that should be worth something for the poor girl.”
“How do you think the fire started?” Tori asked.
“Damned if I know. Everybody was supposed to be at dinner then. Nobody would’ve been in the barn.”
“So when did Ralph go in? Did you see him outside fighting the fire?”
“No, but I was busy. He could’ve been anywhere. Maybe he was helping Sky get the horses out. When Sky’s up to talking, I’ll ask him.”
“Maybe the fire was set, and whoever did it murdered Ralph. What do you think of that theory?”
“It’s possible, I guess. There’ll be an investigation and a coroner’s report. Maybe after that, we’ll have a better idea of what happened.” Will lapsed into silence. Tori could imagine what he was thinking. By the time the investigation was finished, he could be far from home, looking at the world through prison bars.
Tori’s memory shifted back to the night—barely remembered until now—when she and Drew had stopped off at the Blue Coyote for a late-night beer. She remembered glancing around to meet those absinthe eyes, and how their hate-filled gaze had made her skin crawl.
“It had to be Stella,” she said. “Who else would despise you and your family enough to do this?”
“You could be right.” Will’s tone was carefully neutral. “But Stella wouldn’t come on the ranch and set the fire herself. If she wanted it done, she’d pay or blackmail somebody else to do it. And she’d make damned sure nothing could be traced to her.” He shot Tori a stern glance. “Leave it to the law for now. Trying to figure out who set the fire won’t undo the damage. Besides, you’ve got more urgent things to deal with.”
