Homicide at Whiskey Gulch

by Elle James

  She smiled. “I’m okay for now.” She turned her smile toward Trace. “I have my son to protect me.”

  Roy slid into his truck, rolled down the window and tipped his head, first toward Trace and then Rosalynn. “Take good care of her. Your mother is special.”

  “I know.”

  Trace helped his mother into the truck while Lily slipped quietly into the back seat. When he started to turn left and head toward the ranch, his mother reminded him, “Don’t we need some supplies at the feed store?”

  He altered his direction and drove to the store, his thoughts still on what the attorney had said and the fact his mother had known about Matt being his half brother but hadn’t told him.

  At the feed store, Lily and his mother got out along with him and went inside.

  Forcing himself to focus on what he needed, he mentally checked off his list one item at a time.

  “Mrs. Travis, sorry to hear about your husband,” a voice said one aisle over from him.

  “Good morning, Chad,” his mother said. “Thank you for your concern.”

  Trace grabbed a new brush and curry comb from the shelf and walked to the end of the aisle to see the face of the man who was talking to her.

  He was a tall, lean man, wearing jeans, a denim shirt and worn cowboy boots. It had been years since Trace had seen him, but he recognized the man as Chad Meyers, the owner of the Rafter M Ranch adjacent to the Whiskey Gulch Ranch.

  “How’s Alice?” his mother asked.

  “She’s doing better since she had that back operation. Not getting around as fast as she’d hoped, but better.”

  “Tell her I’m thinking of her.” His mother smiled up at Mr. Meyers. “I’ll try to get by this week to check on her.”

  “We were shocked to hear about what happened to James.” The man shook his head. “We had our differences, but I didn’t wish ill will on the man.”

  His mother patted Mr. Meyers’s arm. “I’m sure you both meant well. Tell Alice hello for me.”

  Mr. Meyers thanked her and moved away.

  “You all right?” Trace asked.

  His mother gave him a tight smile, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. “It’ll take time.” She left him and walked over to say hello to another neighbor.

  “Talk about disagreements, Meyers and your father had a bit of an argument right here in the feed store last week,” a voice said behind him.

  Trace turned to face a man with white-blond hair and gray eyes. “Do I know you?”

  The man held out his hand. “Oswald Young. I own the property north of the Whiskey Gulch Ranch.”

  Trace frowned as he shook the man’s hand. The only ranch he knew of to the north was the Rocking J, owned by the Johnsons. “Which property?”

  “The Rocking J,” Oswald said. “Purchased most of it from Ken and Minnie Johnson six months ago. They couldn’t keep up with it anymore and they didn’t have family to leave it to.”

  “I didn’t know that.” He’d known the Johnsons all his life. “I went to school with their son.”

  “Apparently, he didn’t want the ranch. They were ready to sell and...right place, right time. Now I’m the owner of thirty-two hundred acres of the Rocking J Ranch.”

  “Congratulations,” Trace said, though he couldn’t care less about the man’s purchase.

  “We’re setting up an outfitting service for game hunters. The land is full of wild hogs, turkey, white-tailed and axis deer. We hope to introduce buffalo and elk as well.” The man puffed out his chest and grinned broadly. “We have big plans.”

  “Interesting,” Trace said, searching for his mother...or anyone who could extricate him from his new neighbor’s conversation.

  Lily appeared at Trace’s side. “Your mother is ready to go.”

  “Nice to meet you, neighbor,” Oswald said. “See ya around.”

  Trace carried his items to the counter, ordered several bags of feed and paid. His mother stood beside him, greeting townspeople who stepped up to pay their respects and condolences for her loss.

  Oswald approached her, his smile gone, his brow furrowed. “Mrs. Travis, I’m so sorry for your loss. Please accept my sincere condolences. If there’s anything we can do at the Rocking J, just let us know.” He reached for her hand and held it in both of his.

  “Thank you, Mr. Young.”

  “Please, call me Oswald.”

  “Oswald,” Trace’s mother said.

  “And, Mrs. Travis... If for any reason you decide to sell the Whiskey Gulch Ranch, please, let me know. We’re looking to expand the Rocking J even more.”

  Trace’s mother winced.

  If Trace hadn’t been watching her, he wouldn’t have seen her pain. He wanted to punch Oswald Young square in the face but knew it would only upset his mother further. Instead, he stepped between his mother and Mr. Young. “Let’s go, Mom.” He hooked his mother’s elbow in his grip and led her toward the door. By the time they left the store, his mother’s face was pale, and she looked more fragile than Trace had ever seen her.

  He helped her into the truck and closed the door.

  Lily stood beside him. “It’s been too much. She’s been holding up for too long, bottling it in. I don’t know how she hasn’t broken down.”

  “We need to get her home.” Trace thought about the word home. His mother and father had just given their home to him and a stranger. The shock had yet to wear off. Why would his mother do that? The ranch was just as much hers as it was his father’s. She’d put every bit of her love and hard work into making it a profitable business and home for her family. He couldn’t let her just move out and take up residence in a cottage in town, or God forbid, Florida.

  Anger burned in Trace’s gut. Even from his grave, his father was still calling the shots.

  Trace couldn’t wrap his mind around what was happening or what the future might hold, but he had to keep his mother safe and help her find happiness after the death of the only man she’d ever loved.

  He climbed into the truck and turned to his mother. “Think you can stand to be in town for a little longer? I want to stop by the sheriff’s office for a minute.”

  She nodded. “I’m all right. I’m more concerned about you.”

  Trace shook his head. “Don’t be. You worry about you.”

  Her smile was crooked, but gentle. “I’m your mother. No matter how old you get, I’ll always worry about you.”

  Trace drove to the sheriff’s office. “Do you want to come in with me?” he asked.

  His mother shook her head. “I’ll wait here.”

  He didn’t like leaving her in the truck but understood her reluctance to meet with the sheriff and dredge up all the pain of what had happened to his father. “I won’t be long.”

  * * *

  LILY OPENED THE back door of the pickup. “I’m coming.” She slipped out of the truck and paused. Then she opened the passenger seat door and looked up at the woman who’d taken her in and treated her like family. “Will you be all right on your own?”

  Rosalynn nodded. “I’m fine, just a little tired.”

  Lily lifted Trace’s mother’s hand and pressed it to her cheek. “Hang in there. You’re surrounded by the people who love you.”

  Rosalynn curled her fingers around Lily’s cheek. “I know. Now go. See if the sheriff has learned anything new. You can tell me all about it on the way home.”

  Lily closed the door and met Trace on the sidewalk in front of the truck. He opened the sheriff’s office door for her and held it as she entered.

  Her heartbeat fluttered as she brushed past him. She could smell the outdoorsy scent that was solely Trace, and her knees wobbled just a little.

  Inside, the sheriff stood at the counter, talking to one of his deputies. When he spotted Lily and Trace, he turned and held out his hand to Lily first. “Lil
y, I’m glad you came.”

  “Sheriff Owens, you remember Trace Travis?” Lily said.

  The sheriff nodded and offered his hand to Trace. “I do. I was still just a deputy the day he hopped on the bus to join the army. I remember his mother seeing him off.” He shook Trace’s hand. “Good to see you back. I’m sorry for the circumstances.”

  Trace dipped his head. “Good to see you, Sheriff Owens. Congratulations on moving up in the department.”

  “Don’t know what possessed me to run for sheriff, but the town voted me in. Guess I better do right by them.” He winked. “What can I do for you?”

  “What’s happening with the investigation on my father’s murder?” Trace asked.

  The sheriff waved them toward a hallway. “Come to the conference room. We have the investigation laid out in there.”

  Lily followed the sheriff into the conference room, fully aware of Trace right behind her. Her body was tuned into his nearness, her nerves hopping at every chance brush of his skin against hers.

  The room had a long table in the middle with chairs all around and a long whiteboard stretched across one entire wall. Names were written in black. Lily recognized many of the names, including some of the people who’d worked on Whiskey Gulch Ranch—Roy Gibson, their foreman, and Marty Bains and Alan Holden, the ranch hands who’d bailed as soon as things got hot on the ranch. Beside their names were those of the neighbors whose land bordered the Travises’ ranch—Oswald Young of the Rocking J, Chad and Alice Meyers of the Rafter M Ranch. Matt Hennessey’s name was listed alongside Lily’s and some random townsfolk. There were other names Lily didn’t recognize. The name on the board that surprised her most was Rosalynn Travis.

  Lily frowned. “Are all of these people suspects in Mr. Travis’s murder?”

  The sheriff shook his head. “Not necessarily. We list all those close to the victim in proximity, people who owed James money and family ties who were present when the murder occurred.” He nodded toward Trace. “You’re not on the board because you were deployed at the time.”

  Trace’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t think my mother or Lily killed my father, do you?”

  “No, we don’t,” Sheriff Owens said. “But we have to talk to everyone who might have seen something or might know of someone with a motive to kill your father.” He pointed to the board. “We’ve questioned every one of the people listed on the board so far.”

  “And?”

  The sheriff shook his head. “So far, we haven’t identified anyone with a motive.” He pointed to Marty and Alan’s names. “The ranch hands weren’t even close to Mr. Travis when he was shot. They had just left for town with Miss Lily to get more supplies for the barnyard gate they’d been working on when Mr. Travis’s horse brought him home.”

  “Roy had gone to town that morning,” Lily murmured, remembering that horrible day. The images flashing through her mind made her stomach roil.

  The sheriff nodded. “That’s the day he crashed his truck into a tree and hurt his foot. He hobbled the rest of the way into town after the wreck.”

  “What about the neighbors?” Trace asked. “We’ve known the Meyerses all my life. I can’t imagine they’d have a motive for killing my father.”

  “They are in dire financial straits,” the sheriff said. “But Mr. Meyers claims he was home with his wife all day. She’s recovering from back surgery and requires someone to be with her at all times.”

  “The new owners of the Rocking J?” Lily asked. “Mr. Young asked Rosalynn if she wanted to sell the ranch.”

  The sheriff nodded. “We did ask him where he was at the time of the murder. He was with a group of hunters at the new lodge he had built on the property. They can all vouch for his and everyone else’s whereabouts.”

  “Which leaves us back at ground zero,” Trace said.

  “It would help if we could find where he was actually shot. He could have been anywhere on his spread. We sent out twenty deputies and volunteers to look. With over twelve hundred acres to search, we didn’t know where to begin. We did our best, but it wasn’t good enough. Finding a bullet casing or tracks was nearly impossible. And the ground was hard and dry, not conducive to making tracks if someone had been on foot, on horseback or in a vehicle.” The sheriff sighed. “I’m sorry I can’t tell you more. We’re running background checks on Oswald, since he’s new in town. Other than that, all we can think is some random poacher might not have been watching where he was shooting and hit your father by accident. It’s been known to happen.”

  Trace nodded. “Thanks for trying.” He shook the sheriff’s hand. “You’ll keep us informed if you hear anything else?”

  “You bet,” said Sheriff Owens.

  Trace led Lily out of the office. “I’d like to talk to the ranch hands sometime soon.”

  “They had been working on a gate in the barnyard. They didn’t do it. I was there all day.”

  “Yeah, but they might know something about what was going on around the place.”

  Lily’s lips firmed. “They’re just a bunch of cowards, more interested in where they could get their next beer.”

  “Agreed. Any man who’d leave two women unprotected after something like that isn’t worthy of working on this ranch,” Trace murmured. He opened the back door of the pickup and waited for Lily to climb in. Once she was settled, he stared up at her. “Thank you for being here for Mom,” he whispered.

  “I heard that,” his mother said from the front passenger seat. “She’s been a blessing. I couldn’t have done it without her.”

  Lily’s cheeks heated. “I did only what a decent person would have done.” She nodded at Trace. “I love your mother. I’d do it all again.”

  Trace’s gaze met hers for a moment longer, sending a ripple of a different kind of heat through her body.

  Then he shut the door and slid in behind the steering wheel. The moment was gone, but the feeling lingered all the way back to the ranch.

  Irish and Matt were waiting in the barnyard when Trace parked the truck.

  Lily braced for his anger at seeing Matt again.

  Trace didn’t say a word. He might not like the result of the will, but he couldn’t turn away help when they had so much work to do.

  Lily hooked Rosalynn’s arm and escorted her into the house. She made her a cup of iced tea and had her sit in the air-conditioned living room. “With Trace, Matt and Irish out there cutting hay, they won’t need me. I’ll take care of the animals and dinner. You rest. It’s been a hard day. You stay here, I’ll get some things together for the guys.”

  Lily hurried to the kitchen, filled an insulated jug full of ice and water, and made six sandwiches out of the leftover ham a neighbor had brought over the night before. After she wrapped the sandwiches and stored them in a sturdy basket, she carried them out to the barn, where the men were unloading the supplies from Trace’s pickup.

  Lily handed the jug and the basket to Irish. “You’ll need this out there.”

  He smiled and thanked her.

  Before Trace and Matt emerged from the barn, she was back at the house, glad to have avoided the awkwardness of being in the presence of the two men together. At one point in the near future, she would own up to the fact she’d lied about being in love with Matt. At the very least, it might ease the tension between the brothers.

  Lily returned to the living room to find Rosalynn where she’d left her.

  The older woman smiled. “Thank you, Lily. I don’t know what I would have done without you the past few days.”

  She hugged Rosalynn. “I’m glad I was here to help. You’ve done so much for me.”

  The older woman shook her head. “Sweetie, you’ve done more for me and James.”

  “You two gave me a job and a place to live. That’s pretty big.” Lily stared down at the woman who’d come to mean so much to her. “I don’t
know why you and James did what you did.”

  “James wanted to gift you with security. He felt so badly about how he treated you when you were dating Trace. He didn’t know you and judged you unfairly.”

  Lily shrugged. “He didn’t have to do what he did to make up for it. We’d come to a pretty good understanding of each other over the past year. I loved him like the father I wished I’d had growing up.”

  Rosalynn took her hand. “He felt like you were the daughter he never had. He only wished he’d figured that out sooner.” She squeezed Lily’s fingers. “Let us do this for you.”

  Lily frowned. “It’s too much. I don’t need that kind of money.”

  “He wasn’t sure how things would turn out on the ranch if he passed and the boys inherited.” Trace’s mother looked toward the window that overlooked the barn and the men gathering around a tractor.

  “Do you think they’ll work it out?” Lily stared out at the same view, her gaze seeking Trace.

  “I don’t know,” Rosalynn said. “Trace loves being a part of the Delta Force. He’d have to give it up to come home. I’m not sure ranching life would be enough to keep him happy.”

  “He always loved the animals and the wide-open spaces,” Lily offered, knowing Trace’s mother was right. The man had been fighting wars. Ranching would mean slowing down. On the selfish side, she’d love if he was back for good, even if he wasn’t back for her.

  “I only need a few minutes of rest,” Rosalynn said. “No need for you to handle everything by yourself. I’ll help with dinner and with feeding the animals. I don’t want you out there on your own while the men are away in the field.”

  “I’ll be all right. Now that I know there might be someone lurking in the shadows of the barn, I’ll be hyperaware and keep my eyes open for danger.”

  The older woman shook her head. “I can’t risk it. You know Trace will insist on the buddy system.”

  Lily settled in the seat beside Rosalynn’s. “Then I’ll wait with you until you’re ready to go out. We’ve had an eventful morning and could use the rest.” No sooner had she settled on the seat, she popped up. “Let me get us both a fresh glass of iced tea.” She gathered Rosalynn’s glass, hurried to the kitchen to refill it and poured one for herself. Lily laid the glasses on a tray, added a small plate full of cookies from the cookie jar and returned to the living room.