by Dana Mentink
“You remember that detail now?”
She nodded.
Regina called to them from the doorway. “Are you coming, Miss Wilson? The horse is ready.”
Keegan put an arm around Tracy’s trembling shoulders. “You don’t have to do this.”
She swallowed hard. “I’m okay.” Gently she detached herself from his grasp. “I’m ready,” she called to Regina, following her out the front doors.
John grabbed another tissue and retrieved the ornament from the tree.
“Be sure it doesn’t get lost,” Keegan said.
John’s expression hardened to cement. “Don’t mess with me, Keegan.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it, brother, not unless you give me reason to.”
Keegan thumbed back his hat and walked away.
* * *
Tracy tried hard not to show that her knees were still wobbly as she followed Regina to the arena. She took a stab at being friendly. “Have you worked here long?”
“Since they broke ground. I tend to my stable duties and Bryce put me in charge of the front office part-time.” Pride crept into her tone. “I love it, love my work. Even met my fiancé here, plan to stay forever, if they’ll have me.”
“Congratulations on your engagement. Do you have a date picked out?”
“Not yet. Things keep getting in the way.” Her tone was dark. “Why do you care anyway?”
“Just being friendly.”
The woman rounded on her. “Let’s cut through the garbage, shall we? You’re an outsider. You have no reason to be friendly to some stable hand you just met. So what are you after, exactly?”
“After?”
“With this murder story. What are you angling for? Money? From Bryce Larraby?”
“I’m not after anybody’s money. I’m telling the truth.”
Regina hooked her thumbs in her belt loops. She was tall, arms wiry and muscled, dark eyes brimming with anger. “Just so you know, Bryce Larraby is a great man. He’s done awesome things for this town and me personally. Busted my wrist in the summer doing some rock climbing, and he kept me on and even paid me while I was on leave. Every single person who works here would do anything to protect him, especially me.”
Anything? Including lying about a murder? She stood straighter. “I want nothing from Bryce Larraby.”
“Yeah? Coming here with a story that could tarnish our event? With Keegan, who’s got a massive chip on his shoulder?”
“Like I said, I told the truth and I have no ulterior motive.”
“Well, Keegan does—he’d love to destroy Bryce, so keep that in mind. Mitch told me all about how his mother tried to weasel money out of him after she seduced him while he was married to John’s mother. He’ll use you and anyone else to get back at his dad.”
Use you. She looked at Regina full on. “Thank you for your advice. Now I’d like to get to work, if that’s okay with you.”
Regina shook her head, which sent her earrings flashing gold against her curls. “I have some chores to do. See your own way out when you’re done.”
Tracy tried to get her rapid breathing under control. How had she earned herself another enemy already? That had to be some kind of a record.
She knew part of Regina’s comments were true. Keegan did have an enormous chip on his shoulder. He’ll use you...to get back at his dad. If that was true, it was a top-notch reason to get her business done at the Mother Lode and get out.
The arena was clean and well lit, the electric lights on the vaulted ceiling overhead illuminating the soft dirt floor, which was newly raked, from the looks of it. On one side of the arena was a towering stack of baled hay that lent a fresh smell to the space. She breathed in deeply to calm herself. She was in her element here with the horses and hay. She approached the beautiful stallion standing next to the bales, craning his neck over the fence in search of a snack. Flight of Fancy was as gorgeous as the photos she’d seen when she’d researched his bloodline. His conformation at first glance was excellent, as well. Flight had already fathered two offspring that had proved themselves worthy dressage horses.
“Hey there, pretty boy.” She gave the horse a moment to get used to her proximity before she reached out to stroke his neck.
Keegan joined her and she was pleased that her fingers did not shake as she caressed the animal. Keegan was close, very close, and her pulse would not behave for some reason. He’s probably using you, remember? But his smile was so genuine, his presence so comforting. A few stable hands milled about, but the arena was empty except for the two of them and the horse.
“He’s a looker,” Keegan said.
“Yes, he is. My client is interested in a stallion to breed with her mare. She wants a dressage horse. It’s her passion.” She caught his snort. “Dressage not your cup of tea?”
“No, ma’am. I’m a cutting-horse man. Horses were meant to help on ranches, not jump over little white fences.”
She laughed. “That’s very snooty, Mr. Thorn. Dressage dates back to classic Greece when they trained horses to do evasive maneuvers for battle. Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.”
“I’ll pass. I’d look pretty silly in those tight white pants and the shiny boots.”
She looked down at his well-worn cowboy boots and long legs covered by faded denim and decided he was probably right. Keegan Thorn was a horse of a different color for sure. Turning her attention back to Flight of Fancy, she took his lead rope. “Let’s see about your gait, boy. Are you as good as you look on your YouTube videos?”
“Let me,” Keegan said. He took the rope from her and led the horse away.
The horse’s natural walk was perfect, and so, she noticed, was Keegan’s. He had a brisk, easy way next to the horse that was somehow masculine and graceful at the same time. A natural athlete, she supposed. She leaned back on the fence and admired the power in both of them. Something trembled against her back. For a moment, she thought it must be an earthquake.
Keegan’s mouth dropped open. “Look out!” he shouted.
Still uncertain what was happening, she glanced up in time to see the tower of half-ton bales begin to topple.
Her scream froze in her throat as the bundles hurtled down toward her.
SIX
Keegan released Flight of Fancy and charged toward the falling bales. A cascade slammed into the ground with brutal force. One split its twines and sent hay in all directions. Tracy had managed to dodge to the side, but she was still in the path of the falling loads.
One lunge and he had her around the waist, yanking her farther out of the way of the tumbling stack. A bale thumped his back as it slammed onto the arena floor, dirt exploding around them and hay bursting from the six-foot-wide bundle. The impact knocked them both to the floor.
He caged himself over her body, protecting her as best he could, his shoulder twinging with the effort. Another bale caught him in the side, nearly tossing him away, but he held firm against the force. There were shouts that he barely heard over his thundering heart and labored breathing. Feet plowed up more dirt, but he could not see clearly around the haphazard piles of hay and the shower of flying dirt. He closed his eyes against the onslaught of debris.
Tracy. How much impact had she taken before he’d dragged her aside? He only knew she was alive because one hand clutched his bicep. She was so petite, and only just out of the hospital. Above them the bales shimmered in his grit-filled vision and he couldn’t be certain no more were about to come down. He braced himself. If he took a full-on hit from a half-ton bale of hay, that would be the end of them both, but at least he’d go out giving it his all.
After what seemed like a lifetime, the vibrations stopped as the bales plopped into their final positions. A few still teetered on the edge of the pile. He heard shouts, the scuffling of boots.
“What happened?” His brother
John appeared, yanking a fallen hay bale aside to find them. “I was on my way to my vehicle and I heard yelling.”
Keegan ignored him, his attention on Tracy.
“Are you hurt?”
She was inches from him, hazel eyes wide. She tried to answer but nothing came out. Was she injured? In shock?
“It’s okay, just breathe. In and out. That’s good.” He stroked a thumb over her cheek. “Take your time.” Inside he was not the slightest bit patient, waiting to hear if she was hurt in some way. His gut was cinched tight.
After a couple of unsteady breaths, she shook her head. “I... No. I’m not hurt. At least, I don’t think so.”
He eased off and helped her to sit up. There were bits of hay in her hair and dirt smudges on her shirt. Bryce Larraby, Mitch and Regina had joined them from somewhere, and stable hands scurried to secure the remaining bales.
Keegan brushed another smudge from her cheek. “Sure?”
This time her nod was more certain. “You?”
“I’m okay.”
“Your shoulder...”
“Tough as shoe leather,” he said, giving her a wink.
She smiled then jerked. “Flight of Fancy? Was he...?”
“Aww, that stallion left me in his dust getting out of the way. He’s fine, laughing at us, I think.”
In truth, a stable hand was holding on to Flight’s lead rope, calming the animal whose ears were pricked with tension.
Keegan got to his feet and shook the hay from his arms. He helped Tracy up, an arm around her waist in case she’d incurred an injury she wasn’t aware of.
“I said, what happened?” John demanded again.
Bryce wiped a hand over his forehead. “I can’t believe it.”
Keegan rounded on them both. “Pretty clear what happened. Can’t you see?”
“What are you implying?” His father’s brows were knit into an angry line.
“I’m not implying. I’m saying it straight-out,” Keegan said. “Someone pushed over the bales.”
“No,” Bryce said. “I’m sure it was an accident. They were improperly stacked.”
“No, they weren’t,” Regina said. Keegan noticed a flush spread across her cheeks. “I supervised the stacking myself. Bales with broken twine were used as feed, not stacked. We kept to the safe dimensions and loaded them plumb and square. I did my job.”
“We weren’t accusing you,” Tracy said.
Regina folded her arms. “That’s what it sounded like.”
Mitch tapped her arm. “No slight to you, girl.”
Keegan smirked internally at that one. Both his biological mother and his adopted one had taught him a woman was never to be called a girl. Ever.
Regina did not look at him, arms folded tight across her chest. “It wasn’t my fault.”
“No, of course not,” Bryce said. “It was just a freak accident. Likely the stack was unsettled by something, or a couple of bales in the middle failed.”
“That’s not what happens with hay,” Keegan said.
“Oh, that’s right,” John snapped. “I forgot we were in the presence of Cowboy Keegan here, hero of the West.”
Keegan stared him down. “I’m not ashamed of who I am or where I came from.” He paused. “Are you?”
John flinched, and Keegan knew his arrow had struck home. His triumph outweighed the sliver of guilt. Dear old Dad hadn’t stayed with John’s mother, either, the woman he’d been married to while cheating with Keegan’s mother. Keegan’s mom hadn’t even known Bryce was married. At least Bryce had taken care of John’s mother in the divorce. Better than he’d treated Keegan’s mom, who’d only gotten child support because the courts had forced the issue. John had taken every opportunity to bad-mouth Keegan’s mother and tell anyone who would listen that Keegan was not his biological brother, just a liar like his kin.
After he’d divorced John’s mother, Bryce had remarried a wealthy socialite with twin boys who were now in their late teens, whom Bryce doted on, by all accounts. How does it feel to be replaced? he wanted to ask John. To feel like your dad chose another family he liked better? Keegan knew the answer all too well.
“It wasn’t an accident,” Keegan said through gritted teeth. “Someone pushed them over.”
Mitch fixed him with a puzzled stare. “Now, who exactly would do that?”
Keegan let his gaze roam over Mitch and Regina before landing on his father. “The same person who doesn’t want Tracy to remember that he or she is a murderer.”
* * *
“I’m not going back to the hospital,” Tracy announced after she’d gone over the whole incident for what seemed like the millionth time. She sat on a hard chair in Bryce’s neat-as-a-pin office, Keegan next to her and Chief Larraby scribbling notes. A certificate on the wall commemorated the day Bryce had been sworn in the year before as mayor of Copper Creek. On the walls were a dozen photos of Bryce posed next to various visitors, one showing him accepting some sort of certificate from a Scout troop. A cut-glass bowl of candy canes occupied a corner of his desk, no doubt for handing out to the youngest visitors. Bryce Larraby didn’t miss a trick, she thought.
At the moment he, Mitch and Regina waited outside for their turns, sitting apart to prevent them from sharing stories, she imagined. It might have been anyone who’d pushed over the stacks. Then again, it might have been one of those three sitting right there in the lobby. All were strong enough, and each had had time to sneak to the upper catwalk and heave over the top hay bales.
Might it have been an accident as Bryce Larraby said? Something cold slithered up her spine as her instincts told her Keegan was right. It hadn’t been an accident. Someone had tried to kill her. Again. If only she could remember whom she’d seen that night in the office.
As the chief finally dismissed her, she heaved herself to her feet. Keegan took her elbow and steered her to the door. “Let’s go. I’ve had enough of this place.”
“Me, too.”
Chief Larraby snapped his notebook closed. “Probably best for you both to stay away from the Mother Lode for a while.”
Tracy shook her head. “Believe me, I’d prefer never to set foot here again, but I have a job to do and several horses to evaluate. I’m not going to let my clients down.”
“And we’ve got horses to supply for the auction,” Keegan said. “And I’ve been training my cutting horse for too long to skip out now.”
“Do the smart thing for once, Keeg.”
“Do your job, John,” he fired back. “Catch the killer.”
John spoke through gritted teeth. “I will, if there is one.”
After the hay incident, Tracy was convinced her memories were true, even if she couldn’t recall the specifics.
Someone had killed a woman.
And that someone was ready to do the same to her.
* * *
This time Tracy urged Keegan away before he could get any deeper into an argument with his brother, but the irritation still burned hot in Keegan’s chest. As they strode through the lobby, Bryce got to his feet. “I’m very sorry about the accident, Miss Wilson,” he called out. “We’ll make sure nothing like this happens again.”
Keegan stared at his father, the man’s expression fraught with concern. Real or faked? Keegan realized he could not see Bryce Larraby as everyone else did. To him, he would always be the man who’d rejected Keegan, made his mother’s life one of misery. He would never understand how Bryce had gotten three women to love him.
Tracy urged him out of the building with a soft tug at his sleeve. He followed and managed to get to the passenger door before she did, opening it for her.
“Thank you,” she said.
He got in and cranked the engine. It was dark now, the twinkling Christmas lights strung across the front eaves of the horse center lending it a cheer he did not fe
el.
He realized Tracy was shivering. “Cold?” He didn’t wait for an answer but grabbed a blanket from behind his seat and put it on her lap. She spread it out and nestled down underneath.
“It’s late. I don’t think it’s wise to drive you up to your property.”
“But...”
“Come with me to my family’s ranch. Stay the night.”
“My grandpa...”
“Isn’t arriving until tomorrow, you said.”
“I’ll be all right in the cabin.”
“Got plumbing?”
“Yes.” She shot him an offended look. “It’s an old campground, and we have buildings and running water and everything.”
“Electricity?”
She deflated a little. “Well, no. Haven’t got the transformer repaired yet.”
“Groceries laid up in case we get some snow? You said you’re in the foothills. We usually get a dusting this time of year, you know.”
“I do know. I did my research.”
“Got phone service up there? I’ve been able to text from a few spots, but not make phone calls.”
She fell into silence. He restrained his impulse to keep talking. Instead he grabbed a meat stick and unwrapped it, biting off a piece and chewing thoughtfully.
He knew she didn’t want to get any more involved in the life of the Thorns than she was already. She kept her past close to the vest, and she had to be terrorized by what had just happened and worried sick about the future. Why did that mix draw him like a moth to a flame?
She was pretty and in trouble, a combination he’d encountered before, but there was something about Tracy that made her unlike any woman he’d ever met, something he could not put his finger on. It made him want to find out more about what made her tick and keep her close, but “close” was dicey, because it could lead to deeper attachments. He’d never encouraged those kinds of attachments because he loathed the thought of hurting a woman like his father had. He cleared his throat. Why on earth was he mentally running through all that now? “Plenty of room at the Gold Bar.”