Sooner or Later

by Debbie Macomber

  “Did you talk to him?” Slim asked anxiously. “The man you thought could help you?”

  Slim was a decent, hardworking rancher. Although forty with one college-age son, he’d been Letty’s most persistent suitor for the last couple of years. The pool of eligible young men had never been large in these parts and was fast evaporating.

  “Letty?” he tried again when she didn’t immediately respond.

  “I talked to him.”

  “And?” Slim pressed. “Did he agree to accompany you to Zarcero?”

  “No,” she answered flatly.

  A short, tense silence followed her announcement. “You aren’t going alone, then, are you?”

  “Of course I am,” she insisted, irritated that he’d suggest otherwise. “I have to, don’t you see? Luke’s my brother.”

  “But I thought that man you talked to from the State Department advised you against making such a trip. He said there wasn’t anything the United States could do if you got yourself in trouble.”

  “It doesn’t matter what the State Department or anyone else advises me!” Letty cried. “I have to know what’s happened to Luke. I don’t have any other option. Luke would never leave me, and I refuse to abandon him.”

  The rancher lowered his head and slowly rotated the hat brim between his nimble fingers. “I’m going to worry about you, Letty, off in a foreign country, with no one there to protect you. You know I’d accompany you myself, but—”

  “You have the ranch and your son. Billy might not live at home, but he still needs you.”

  Slim appeared relieved when she offered him a ready excuse.

  “I’d go in a heartbeat if it wasn’t for Billy.”

  Letty patted his forearm. “I know.”

  The rancher’s eyes met hers. “How about dinner tonight? I checked in at Rosie’s and the special is Swiss steak. I know how you like Rosie’s home cooking.”

  “Thanks, Slim, but not tonight,” she said softly, knowing she was disappointing him. “I’ve got some thinking to do.”

  She had to find Luke. If she died in the process, so be it, but she refused to sit back and do nothing.

  The house was dark but cool when Letty arrived home. She switched on the air conditioner and opened the top three buttons of her blouse, slipped off her shoes, and sat on the sofa. With her feet propped on the coffee table, she closed her eyes and let the cool air circulating the room revive her. A drop of perspiration slowly rolled from her neck toward the valley between her ample breasts. She pinched her lips, remembering how the mercenary’s gaze had fallen to her breasts when she’d suggested paying him.

  The man was dark and dangerous, and she’d been a fool to ask for his help. She should have known better, but she was desperate. He’d stood within inches of her, invading her space, filling up the tiny office with his presence. She could feel his heat, smell the uniquely masculine scent of him. The expression on his cold, dark face had been unreadable except when she’d offered to pay him. Then and only then had any expression leaked into his features, and he’d silently laughed at her.

  Annoyed, she rose and in short order changed out of her uniform and into cotton pants and a sleeveless top. With a critical eye, she walked down the even rows of her herb garden, preferring to wait until the sun had set before she watered her precious plants.

  Letty s grandmother, her namesake, had taught her about the medicinal properties of herbs. Letty had been an avid student until her grandmother’s death when she was eleven. She’d grieved the death of Grammy more than she had the loss of her own mother.

  Grammy had filled the shoes of Donna Madden soon after she’d abandoned her family and disappeared. Letty and Luke had only been five and far too young to comprehend what had happened. Over the course of years, rumors had reached Letty s tender ears about her mothers weaknesses. Stories of a woman addicted to alcohol and men.

  After her mother s disappearance, their father, the local minister, had asked Grammy for help, so she’d moved in with the family.

  Grammy was a grand southern woman who lacked neither grace nor charm. Whenever there was a death in the community, Grammy would visit the family home, stop the clocks, cover the mirrors with sheets, and place a cup of salt in the windowsill. More often than not Letty and Luke accompanied her on such trips. Letty never fully understood the purpose behind these rituals and didn’t think to ask before Grammy’s passing.

  But when her father had laid his own mother to rest, Letty had raced home, and with tears streaming down her face, she’d reverently stopped the giant grandfather clock that tolled in the study and covered the bathroom mirror with a clean white sheet. Last, she’d dutifully set the salt in the kitchen window, then hurried back to the church, knowing her grandmother would have approved.

  Letty had inherited her grandmother’s green thumb, and her garden flourished year after year. She wasn’t the healer her grandmother had been, but there were a number of home remedies she’d practiced on herself, her brother, and their father while he was alive.

  The night before the news of the coup had reached Letty, she’d woken with her heart racing frantically, her head pounding. Instinctively she’d known something was terribly wrong with her twin. Many hours had passed before she’d heard that the government of Zarcero had fallen and guerrillas had taken over the capital. As the days progressed, news of atrocities committed against the people of Zarcero filled the television screen. Letty had watched in horror, praying her brother and his small, floundering group of followers had been spared.

  The feeling that Luke was in trouble hadn’t left Letty since that night. If anything, the sensation had intensified.

  There was no help for it. She was going to Zarcero with or without help.

  And it looked very much as if she’d be making the trip alone.

  As luck would have it, two days later Murphy literally ran into Letty at the hardware store. He felt his backside bump against a soft, womanly figure and turned around, prepared to apologize. The words froze on his lips as his gaze slammed into Letty Madden’s.

  From her shocked expression, Murphy suspected their meeting had taken her by surprise as well.

  “Good day, Mr. Murphy,” she greeted him formally, as if they’d stumbled upon each other at a Sunday school picnic. Fat chance of that ever happening.

  He nodded slightly and was ready to turn away when he noticed the contents of her shopping cart.

  “I’m buying supplies for my trip into Zarcero,” she informed him.

  He picked up a flare and wondered if it was worth the effort to tell her that these were the last thing she was going to need.

  “I thought flares might come in handy,” she said, studying him.

  Murphy tossed it back inside her cart. “Sure, if you want to alert the whole damn country that you’ve arrived.”

  “Oh, but I thought—” She stopped abruptly, clamping her mouth closed.

  Murphy purchased what he needed and promptly left the store. At his best estimate Letty Madden would last fifteen minutes in Zarcero. If that.

  He opened his truck door and was about to leave when she called out to him.

  “Mr. Murphy…”

  Groaning inwardly, Murphy climbed inside the cab. “What is it now?” he demanded, making sure she knew he resented the intrusion.

  To her credit, she didn’t cower the way some women would. “I won’t keep you long.” She stood on the sidewalk, looking uneasy but determined. The woman had mettle, he’d say that for her.

  “When I approached you earlier, you didn’t give me a chance to make my proposal.”

  “Any offer you could make wouldn’t interest me.” He didn’t leave room for misunderstanding. Nothing she could propose would be enough to persuade him to join her in this suicide mission.

  Her eyes held his. “I’m willing to pay you fifty thousand dollars to help me find my brother.”

  Murphy frowned, wondering where a woman like Letty Madden could come up with that land of r
eady cash.

  “My house is paid for, Mr. Murphy,” she explained as though she’d read his mind. “It would be only a formality of signing a few papers at the bank for me to give you the cash in hand by tomorrow afternoon.”

  Damn it all, Murphy could feel himself weakening. It wasn’t the money, either, but the woman. She was going to get herself killed for nothing.

  He didn’t figure he could stop her from going, but he wasn’t going to encourage her. “There isn’t enough money in the world to induce me to accompany you into Zarcero,” he said smoothly, and started the ignition.

  Her shoulders fell and she nodded, accepting his final word. “I apologize for detaining you. Have a good day, Mr. Murphy.”

  He didn’t respond, merely put the truck in reverse and sped out of town, eager to make his escape.

  “Damn fool woman,” he muttered as he rode back to the house.

  The light on his answering machine was blinking when Murphy walked into the kitchen. Only one person in the world outside of the good people of Boothill knew where he was: Jack Keller.

  “How’s the side?” Murphy asked when he reached his friend.

  “It hurts like a son of a bitch,” Jack muttered.

  Murphy laughed. Jack had suffered two broken ribs from a confrontation with a runaway jeep during their last mission and had taken this time to recuperate in his condo. Jack preferred city life, but Murphy opted to stay away from people. The plains of Texas suited him just fine.

  “I thought I’d check and see how things are going with you,” Jack said.

  If Murphy found any fault with his friend, it was that Jack was a social animal. The man simply didn’t know how to relax. A week in Kansas City and Jack was bored, ready for new action.

  “I’m fine,” Murphy muttered. Damn, but he couldn’t get that pesky Madden woman off his mind. Flares, she was buying flares to take into Zarcero. Talk about stupid.

  Jack hesitated. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” Murphy snapped.

  “Well, something’s troubling you. I can hear it in your voice.”

  Murphy didn’t think it would do any harm to tell Jack about the postmistress. “I got a job offer,” he said, and supplied the details.

  “She’s going to get herself killed,” Jack announced flatly. Murphy didn’t want to think about what would happen to Letty Madden when the rebel soldiers got hold of her. Odds were they’d torture her, rape her, and then take sadistic pleasure in killing her.

  “What’s she look like?” his friend asked next.

  “What the hell does it matter?” Murphy barked. She was pretty and young, mid-twenties, by his estimate. Not that the guerrillas would care.

  “Are you going to help her?”

  Murphy’s response was emphatic. “Not on your life.”

  “You know what it sounds like to me?” Jack said, and laughed lightly.

  “I don’t want to know.”

  “You need to get laid.”

  “What the hell?”

  “You’ve been too long without a woman,” Jack pronounced. “Otherwise this business with the postmistress wouldn’t be bothering you so much. You’ve been living like a saint ever since you bought out Deliverance Company. Man, it’s time to let down your hair and live a little.”

  “The last thing I need is a woman.”

  “Take my advice, Murphy, find yourself a hole-in-the-wall tavern, get good and drunk, and then let a woman take you home for the night. Trust me, you’ll feel worlds better in the morning.”

  Sex was Jack’s solution to everything. “My getting laid isn’t going to stop the Madden dame from risking her damn fool neck,” Murphy insisted.

  “Maybe not, but you might not feel responsible for her death.”

  “I don’t accept any responsibility for whatever happens to her.”

  Jack chuckled, that know-it-all laugh of his that caused Murphy’s jaw to clench.

  “What’s so damn funny?”

  “You,” Jack returned evenly. “You’re tempted to do it.”

  “The hell I am.” It’d take a tornado to move him from his spread. He’d worked long and hard for this vacation, he deserved it, and he damn well was going to take it. He wasn’t about to let an annoying postmistress interfere with his plans. If she was hell-bent on getting herself killed, it wasn’t his problem.

  “Admit it, Murphy, you want her.”

  “It’s time we ended this conversation.”

  Murphy went to replace the telephone receiver when he heard Jack laugh and shout, “Call me when you get back from Zarcero.”

  “I’ll rot in hell first,” he muttered, satisfied.

  The restlessness that plagued Murphy the rest of that day and all of the next refused to go away. He tried all the things that normally calmed his spirit. He worked on the truck, rode his stallion across his land, and sat on the porch with a beer and a good book until the sun set. Nothing worked.

  Again and again he reminded himself that Letty Madden wasn’t his responsibility. As far as he was concerned, the woman was on her own.

  Normally Murphy wasn’t a man overly burdened by conscience. No one in his profession could be. He lived by his own rules and his own code of honor.

  He didn’t want to become involved. But if the postmistress insisted on rescuing her brother, which was laughable when he thought about it, death would come as a blessing. Miss Sunday School Teacher viewed him as crude and vulgar, but he was a pussycat compared to the horror that awaited her in Zarcero.

  There had to be a way to get her to listen to reason and at the same time absolve him of any guilt.

  The idea of how to do both came to him the following afternoon.

  Murphy whistled as he drove into town, his mood greatly improved. In a manner of speaking, he decided, Jack was responsible. Murphy parked his truck outside of the post office and made his way inside.

  Letty was selling stamps to an older gentleman, but her gaze was immediately drawn to his. He noted the surprise and hope filter into her eyes as he sauntered over to his box. Her look didn’t waver as he took his own sweet time removing his mail. When the post office was empty he approached Letty.

  “May I help you?” she asked, clearly struggling to maintain a crisp, professional voice.

  “Are you still intent on traveling to Zarcero?” he asked briskly.

  “Of course. My flight into Hojancha is already booked. I leave in two days.”

  “I’ve had a change of heart,” he said, leaning indolently against the counter.

  Her relief was evident. “I thought…I hoped the money might influence you. I’ll stop off at the bank this afternoon and make the arrangements. If you want, I’ll give you half up front and half when we return.”

  “We’ll talk about the money later. There are other, more pressing concerns we should discuss first.”

  She blinked and stared at him as if unsure she’d heard him correctly. “Such as?”

  “No money will change hands until—”

  “You want it in securities? That might take some time, and I’m not sure—”

  “I said we’ll discuss the financial arrangement later,” he said impatiently, louder this time.

  “What is it you want?”

  “You’re a virgin, aren’t you?” He spoke slowly, letting his words sink into that thick, stubborn skull of hers.

  Her eyes went incredibly round, and she swallowed uncomfortably. “That’s none of your business.”

  Murphy laughed coarsely. “That tells me everything I need to know. I’ll overlook your lack of experience. Generally I prefer a woman seasoned in the art of lovemaking.”

  She bristled. “Exactly what are you suggesting, Mr. Murphy?” She took two small steps away from him as if she feared contamination.

  “A bargain.”

  Letty didn’t say anything for a couple of moments, then swallowed hard and asked, “Exactly what kind of…‘bargain’?”

  He smiled slowly and looked her ov
er, allowing his gaze to linger over the fullness of her breasts and the subtle curve of her hips. He was sure to let his appreciation show in his eyes.

  “One night. You and me together, all night. In exchange I’ll accompany you into Zarcero.”

  Her eyes widened to such proportions that he struggled to keep from laughing outright. To say she hesitated would have been an understatement.

  “It’s a take-it-or-leave-it offer,” he said. She’d leave it. There wasn’t a single doubt in Murphy’s mind. If she decided to tackle this project on her own, then she would leave him with a clean conscience. He’d laid his cards on the table. Either she agreed or not; it was up to her.

  Satisfied, he turned to go. He made it all the way to the door before she stopped him.

  “Shaun…Mr. Murphy,” she called out to him in a voice that trembled.

  Shaun. No one called him Shaun. Few even knew his given name. He didn’t like the sound of it on her lips. Didn’t like the way her lilting voice cried out to him.

  Confident, he turned back.

  She smiled weakly. “Would tomorrow evening be convenient?”

  3

  The man was mad. That was the only possible explanation, Letty decided, for what he’d asked—no, demanded—of her.

  He’d guessed correctly that she was a virgin. Her experience with men had been limited to a few chaste kisses shared with Slim, which surprisingly she’d enjoyed. Her awakening sexuality made Letty uncomfortable and slightly afraid.

  Although she’d been raised by her father and with Luke, Letty wasn’t accustomed to men. The boys in her class had thought of her as bookish and mousy. Deep down, Letty feared she might be weak like her mother, and she couldn’t bear the thought. For years she’d done everything she could to ignore the female part of herself.

  In an effort to pull herself together emotionally and physically, Letty gripped the dresser drawer with both hands and took in several deep, calming breaths. She had no choice; she needed Murphy. For protection, for guidance. For survival.

  Once she found Luke, she could be rid of the mercenary. If the price for his help cost Letty her virginity, so be it. She’d gladly pay that and a hell of a lot more if it meant saving her brother.