Homicide at Whiskey Gulch

by Elle James

  “Thank you, ma’am,” Irish said as he left Trace staring after him, shaking his head.

  “Son of a gun,” Trace said beneath his breath.

  “Did you warn Irish that we’ve had some threats here at the ranch?” Lily asked, her gaze following Irish and Trace’s mother as they entered the barn. “He’s holding his side like he is nursing a wound. Is he up to the rigors of the job and the potential of being a target?”

  “Irish knows what’s happening here. I gave him the details when I asked him to come,” Trace said. “He was injured recently, but he’s on the mend. He’ll be pulling light duty until he’s back to one hundred percent.”

  “Until then, it’s still me and you.” Lily’s lips pressed together.

  “His injury isn’t going to affect his ability to shoot.” Trace met her gaze dead-on. “And I expect one more recruit in the next day or two.”

  “Your mother thinks we need to cut the hay tomorrow. Are we ready?”

  Trace nodded. “Ready or not, we have to get it done. There’s a storm across the Baja Peninsula predicted to come this way in less than a week. We have to have that hay cut, baled and stored before it hits.”

  “I’m not as worried about the round bales, but you and I are going to be hard-pressed to get the square bales packed into the barn in that short a time frame.”

  “Hopefully, my guy Beck will be here before we start that hay hauling. He had some commitments in San Antonio to wrap up before he could come out to help. I’m not sure he’ll stay for long, and he’s never worked on a ranch, but he’s strong, smart and loyal. And he’s prior Delta Force. He’ll be a good asset to have in case we have trouble. In the meantime, we’ll mow, rake and bale.”

  Lily nodded. “Good.” She started to walk away.

  “Lily, about what happened...”

  She stopped and held up a hand without turning. “Already forgotten.”

  “That’s not what I was going to say.” Trace closed the distance between them. He touched her arm and turned her to face him.

  “Don’t—” Lily said.

  He couldn’t help it. He couldn’t forget. “When I kissed you...”

  She was already shaking her head.

  He continued. “When I kissed you, you felt it, too...didn’t you?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.” She looked up at him and then looked away.

  “What happened between you and Matt?” he persisted.

  “That was so long ago. Why bring it up now?” When she pulled away, he released his hold on her. “I have work to do.”

  “We’re not finished discussing this.”

  “We’re finished. We have nothing left to say.”

  “We do,” he said. “And we will. Sooner or later. I’d prefer sooner. And if you don’t tell me what happened between you and Matt, I’ll just ask him.”

  Her head shot up, her eyes wide for a second before she hooded them. “He will say there never was anything between us.”

  “You said you were going to marry him. How could there be nothing between you two?”

  She shrugged. “Maybe I changed my mind. Maybe I read too much into the relationship. Whatever it was, it didn’t work out. It wasn’t his fault. He wasn’t the right guy for me.”

  Trace pressed his lips together. “Neither was I.”

  “It was a long time ago.” She shook her head. “Let it lie.” This time when she turned and walked away, he let her go.

  The entire conversation left him with more questions than answers. He felt as if Lily wasn’t telling him the whole truth. What was she hiding? Had she been in love with Matt? Had he dumped her? What had happened to drive them apart?

  What did it matter? Lily had made it perfectly clear eleven years ago. She didn’t want him then and she didn’t want him now.

  Then what the hell had happened when he’d kissed her? Because, though he might be rusty and maybe a little deluded, she sure as hell had kissed him back.

  Chapter Five

  Lily spent the rest of the day helping Irish find his way around the ranch. After Rosalynn had left him in her care, she’d shown him where the feed was stored, what and how much to feed the animals, and where the tack was stored.

  “If anything is too heavy or awkward for you to lift,” Lily said, “just let me know. I can help.”

  “I can handle this,” he assured her.

  Lily watched him out of the corner of her eye. He’d clutched his side occasionally when he lifted anything over twenty pounds. They had been scooping feed from the feed bins that afternoon when he clutched his side and grunted.

  “Look,” Lily said, “I’d rather you take time to heal. If you rip stitches now, it’ll take longer for you to mend. I’ll handle the hay bales, you can feed the horses, pigs and chickens.”

  “I can do more than that,” Irish insisted and bent to lift a scoop full of sweet feed out of the bin.

  She chuckled. “Oh, you will. We need to check the fences around the property. There’s always some that need mending. What can you do? What do you have experience with?”

  “I was a sniper in the Delta Force.”

  “Ever worked on a ranch?” she asked, not sure this man who’d been injured would be an asset even after he recovered fully.

  “I did, one summer when I was in high school.” He gave her a weak smile. “Does that count?”

  She carried a bucket full of grain to one of the horse stalls and hung it inside the pen, then turned. “Did you work with the animals?”

  Irish carried another bucket over to the adjacent stall and hung it inside. “I was in charge of hooking the horses up to walkers, cleaning hooves, currying, feeding and exercising them. I also helped corral the cattle to administer worm medication. Not to mention hauling hay, mending fences and anything else that came up.”

  “All in one summer?” she asked.

  He nodded. “I wasn’t raised on a farm, but I loved working with animals.” He looked over the stall door at the horse happily munching on the feed. “When I processed out of the military, I wanted to get back to working with animals.”

  “Well, Mr. Monahan, you’re back. Be ready for some hard, dirty and altogether rewarding work.” Lily smiled. “I wasn’t raised on a ranch, either. I learned as I went. If you aren’t afraid of hard work, you’ll do well here.”

  “I’m ex–Delta Force,” he said, puffing out his chest. “I didn’t get there by being lazy.”

  Lily nodded. “I can see why Trace brought you on board.”

  “That, and I’m good with a variety of weapons.” Irish frowned. “Trace gave me a brief synopsis of what’s been happening around here. I was sorry to hear about his father. Has the local law enforcement come up with any indication as to who was responsible?”

  Lily shook her head. “He was alone when it happened. No witnesses. The other ranch hands were working together on another part of the ranch. They weren’t anywhere near Mr. Travis. Our foreman had gone to town for supplies. No one from the Whiskey Gulch Ranch was anywhere near Mr. Travis when he was shot.”

  “Did they question the neighbors?” he asked.

  “They did.” Lily nodded. “They all had alibis.”

  “Figures.” Irish returned to the feed bin for another bucket of feed.

  “What about you?” Lily asked. “Why did you decide to get out of the military? Or did you have to get out because of your injuries?”

  He chuckled. “My team was mystified as well.” He tapped his torso. “The injuries weren’t life-threatening. Yeah, I had a concussion, but thankfully, it doesn’t appear to be a traumatic brain injury. And I’ve had worse shrapnel wounds.” He carried the bucket to another stall. “I’ve been deployed so many times, I don’t remember where I live half the time. I’ve also watched some of my buddies get married and then get divorced. Their wives coul
dn’t handle them being away so often. I’m in my thirties and, if I want a home and a family, I don’t stand a chance of finding anything that would last if I stayed on active duty.”

  Lily chuckled. “So basically what you’re telling me is that your biological clock is ticking, and you didn’t want it to run out before you had a chance at having a wife and children.” She touched his arm. “I don’t mean to laugh. I just think it’s ironic.”

  “What about you?” Irish raised an eyebrow. “I don’t see a ring on your finger. Does that mean you aren’t married? Or that you don’t like to wear jewelry when you’re up to your elbows in horse manure?”

  Lily laughed. “Both. I’m not married. And I wouldn’t wear jewelry to muck out stalls.”

  “How did a beautiful woman like you manage to escape the matrimonial ring?”

  She shrugged. “I guess I just haven’t found the right person. Or he hasn’t found me.” She hung her bucket in a stall and wiped her hands on her jeans. “We’re done in here. We should go wash up. Mrs. Travis should have dinner on the table soon.”

  She led the way out of the barn and closed the door behind her.

  “I’ve known Trace four years, and I didn’t know that he was the heir to all of this.” Irish waved a hand at the barn, the pastures and the massive ranch house. “He never mentioned that his family was loaded.”

  Lily smiled. “He never considered himself rich. It was his father’s ranch, his father’s money and his father’s life. Trace wanted to make it on his own.”

  “Sounds like Trace,” Irish said. “He was always so focused and driven. I guess that’s why.”

  She nodded. “They butted heads often.”

  Irish shook his head. “He was just one of the guys. He never expected special favors, and he always had our backs. We could count on him.”

  Lily’s heart pinched hard in her chest. She’d known he’d make it on his own. He was so much like his father, he couldn’t have failed. They both worked hard and smart to make things happen.

  “If you don’t mind my asking,” Irish started, “what’s up between you and Trace? I sense an undercurrent and I can’t quite put my finger on it.”

  With a shrug, Lily picked up the pace. “There’s nothing up between me and Trace. Nothing.” Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Irish studying her, his eyes slightly narrowed. Lily held her breath, praying Irish didn’t continue along his current line of questioning.

  “I was just asking. You know...pretty, single girl on a ranch. I might want to ask you out.” He winked. “But if you’re spoken for, I don’t want to step on anyone’s toes.”

  “I’m single. You’re not going to step on anyone’s toes, but I’m not interested in dating at this time.”

  “Okay, then. Maybe we can just be friends?”

  She smiled. “I’d like that.”

  He held out his hand. “Deal?”

  She shook his hand. “Deal.”

  As she climbed the steps up to the back porch, Lily smiled.

  The door to the kitchen opened and Trace came out, carrying a tray of raw steaks. He frowned when he saw her and Irish.

  “You need a hand with those?” Irish asked. “I’ve been known to grill a mean medium rare steak.”

  Trace shook his head. “I’ve got this. You can grab a beer and keep me company, though.”

  Irish grinned. “Now you’re speaking my language. Point me in the right direction.”

  Without making eye contact with Trace, Lily touched Irish’s arm. “I’ll show you where they keep the beer after we wash up.”

  “Great.” Irish grinned at Trace. “Lily’s been a big help clueing me in on what has to be done around here.”

  Trace grunted and walked by, his gaze capturing Lily’s. “I’ll get these on the fire. You might check with my mother to see if there’s anything else she wants to cook out here.” His tone was clipped, his frown seemingly carved into his forehead.

  “Got it. I’ll be out in a sec.” Lily dived into the house to escape Trace’s piercing glance that seared straight through to her soul. Her face heated and her palms were sweating by the time she reached the downstairs bathroom.

  “Are you all right?” Irish asked as she passed him to enter the washroom first.

  “I’m fine. I’ll be right out.” She shut the door between them and stood staring at her flushed face in the mirror. Why did Trace have such a huge effect on her after all these years?

  The answer was the kiss.

  She should have stood her ground, turned her face, done anything rather than let him kiss her.

  The truth was...she’d wanted that kiss as much as she’d wanted to take her next breath. Hell, she was in so much trouble where Trace was concerned. She wasn’t over him by any stretch. The only thing she could do was stay away from him and get on with her life. The kiss had meant nothing to him but a way to prove a point. That he could still turn her willpower to mush.

  After washing her hands and splashing water on her face, she felt more like herself. She exited the bathroom with a smile pinned to her face. “All yours. Think you can find your way to the kitchen when you’re finished?”

  “I’ve got a keen sense of direction,” Irish said. “Which way do I go?”

  She gave him directions.

  He gave her a mock salute. “Got it.” Irish entered the bathroom and closed the door.

  Rather than go out to the porch and relax in one of the rocking chairs, Lily went straight to the kitchen. “Anything I can do to help?” she asked.

  “Actually, yes.” Rosalynn shot a smile over her shoulder. “You can set the table and put ice in the glasses.”

  Lily pulled cutlery out of the drawer and plates from one of the cabinets, enough for four people.

  “We’ll need an extra setting,” Rosalynn said.

  “Oh?”

  “Yes. I’ve hired another man to help haul hay. He’s supposed to be here any moment.”

  “Anyone I know?”

  “I think so.” Rosalynn pulled the Dutch oven full of baked beans from the oven, set it on a trivet on the table and wiped her hands on a dish towel. “I’ll be right back.”

  Curious, Lily quickly set the table with the silverware and plates. Then she put ice in the glasses and placed a pitcher of tea in the center of the table. It felt weird and sad that Mr. Travis wasn’t at the table. Before he’d passed, he’d insisted on having dinner at the formal dining table. Since his death, his widow had gone to having dinner at the large table in the kitchen.

  Still, his powerful presence was missed.

  Having Trace home helped. At least, it helped his mother. She’d seemed so lost without her husband. Sure, she’d taken up the reins of running the ranch even though she’d been devastated, but when she’d learned that the foreman had run off the road and crushed his foot the same day, Lily thought Rosalynn would fall the rest of the way apart.

  But she hadn’t. Not even when the ranch hands had each called to say they couldn’t work there anymore because their families had been threatened. Rosalynn had squared her shoulders, visited Roy in the hospital briefly and gone back to take care of the ranch her husband had loved so much.

  Lily had gone from being household staff to a ranch hand, doing the best she could to keep the animals fed, the barn clean and Mrs. Travis from working herself into an early grave with her husband.

  She hadn’t wanted to notify the Red Cross of her husband’s death to bring Trace home to help.

  Frankly, neither had Lily, but the situation had become impossible to handle. Either they got someone there to help, or Rosalynn would be forced to sell the ranch or at least all the animals on it. She couldn’t keep up with the amount of work it took to keep it going. Not by herself. Lily had made the call to the Red Cross. She’d waited until it was too late to recall the notice to tell her. Ros
alynn had been relieved. Despite her protests to the contrary, she needed to have her only son there for the funeral and to help her decide what to do next. After all, if she wanted to keep the ranch, it would eventually go to Trace.

  Lily sliced lemons for the iced tea and set out the fresh salad Rosalynn had cut up, steak sauce and napkins. By the time she was finished, Irish appeared in the doorway, carrying a tray of baked potatoes wrapped in foil. A moment later, Trace appeared, carrying another tray filled with juicy steaks. The aroma filled the air, making Lily’s mouth water and her tummy rumble. She hadn’t realized just how hungry she was until that moment.

  When her gaze met Trace’s, all thoughts of hunger jumped from food to desire. She physically ached for this man, and they could never be together.

  Lily took the tray of potatoes from Irish with a smile that hurt her face. “Thank you.” She plucked a potato from the tray and nearly dropped it, her fingers on fire. “Ouch.”

  “Careful.” Irish frowned. “They’re fresh from the grill and hot.”

  Lily shook her hand, wincing in pain. “I know that...now.”

  Trace set his tray on the table and crossed to her. He took the platter of potatoes from her grip and set it beside the steaks. Then he gripped her wrist and studied the red mark on her fingertips. “Come on.” He led her to the sink and ran her hand beneath cool water.

  With Trace holding her hand and standing so close to her that his hip bumped against hers, Lily could barely breathe, much less think.

  After a couple of minutes, he turned off the water and stared down at her hand again. “That might blister.”

  “I’ll be okay,” she said, her voice kind of breathy. Hardly the strong voice of a confident woman who could handle anything.

  Anything but Trace.

  “Oh, good, I’m glad everyone is ready to eat,” Rosalynn said from the entrance to the kitchen. “I want you all to welcome our guest.”