Homicide at Whiskey Gulch

by Elle James

  Her gaze on the second driver, Lily’s eyes widened, and her pulse raced.

  Trace’s face had a gash and a bruise on one cheekbone and his shirt appeared to be torn and dirty. Nothing like what she would have expected for a day seated on a tractor.

  As soon as they stopped the tractors, she converged on him. “What happened to you?”

  Trace shot a glance toward Matt. “I fell.”

  Matt rubbed his belly. “The hell he did. He got the bruise on his face when he punched me in the gut. He might not have realized I punch back.”

  With a shrug, Trace nodded. “He got that right. I did punch him first and fully deserved the punch he returned.”

  “Damn right he did.” Matt stepped down from his tractor.

  Lily frowned. “Did he knock you down and roll you around in the dirt as well?”

  Matt snorted.

  Trace waited for Irish to dismount from behind his seat before he stood and brushed some of the dust from his shirt.

  “No,” Trace said. “The rest was from when I fell off the ATV.”

  “You fell off the ATV?” Lily glanced at the four-wheeler they had towed behind the tractor. The front rack was bent, the handlebar was crooked, and there was dirt and leaves jammed in places that shouldn’t have dirt and leaves. “What happened?”

  Trace climbed down and stretched, wincing. “I hit a fallen log.”

  Irish stepped around him and unhooked the strap they’d used to haul the four-wheeler back to the barn. “He hit the fallen log after he was nearly run over.”

  “Run over?” Lily shook her head. “By one of the tractors?”

  “No,” Matt said. “By the shooter.”

  Lily’s heartbeat stuttered. “Wait. What shooter?” She turned to Trace. “Someone shot at you?”

  “Yeah. And I went after him.” He glanced toward the house. “It’s not a big deal. I wouldn’t mention it in front of my mother. The shooter must have been a really bad shot.”

  “No big deal?” Lily threw her hands in the air. “Are you kidding me?”

  His lips quirked. “Are you worried someone shot at me, or that you can’t tell my mother?”

  “This isn’t some kind of joke. Your father was killed by a shooter. You’ve been shot at. Someone hit me in the barn. The Whiskey Gulch Ranch is under attack and you’re afraid to tell your mother?” Her pulse still hammering through her veins, Lily marched toward the house. “I’m calling the sheriff. You can go back out and play Russian roulette with your shooter. I’m going to make sure your mother is taken care of when they drag your body back to the house.”

  Lily’s chest hurt. Trace could have been shot and killed today. Her eyes stung and she wanted to vomit. How could he be so flippant?

  A hand caught her arm and spun her around. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you cared so much.”

  She stared at the hand on her arm, wanting to fling herself into his embrace. She clenched her fists and held on to her control by a thread. He could have been killed. For a long moment, she fought the urge to throw herself into his arms, pound his chest, then kiss him until he loved her, too.

  Instead, she drew herself up and lifted her chin. “I’m calling the sheriff. This cannot continue. Your mother would be devastated if she lost you, too.”

  He didn’t let go of her arm. “And you? Would you be devastated?”

  She stared into his eyes, wanting to tell him just how broken her heart would be. “I’d hate to see your mother go through that kind of loss again.” Then she shook her arm free of his grip and ran for the house.

  She didn’t look back but burst through the door into the house and let the screen slam shut behind her.

  Rosalynn hurried out of the kitchen, carrying a wooden spoon. “What’s wrong?”

  “Ask your son,” she said and went straight to the phone in the hallway. “I have a phone call to make.” She dialed 911. When the dispatcher answered, Lily said, “I’d like to report a shooting.”

  Rosalynn gasped behind her and ran out the back door.

  After she finished her call to the sheriff’s office, Lily felt a twinge of guilt. Mrs. Travis didn’t need the stress of hearing about a shooting after losing her husband the same way. But, damn it, Trace couldn’t die. It would kill his mother.

  Lily clasped her hands together and pressed them to her chest. “And it would kill me, too.”

  Chapter Ten

  “Wade Richard Travis, you are not going back out in that hayfield. Not if I have anything to say about it.” Rosalynn Travis stood with her hands fisted on her hips, a frown denting her brow.

  Trace wanted to shake Lily for telling his mother about the shooting. But Lily was right to report it to the sheriff. At the very least, they could be asking around and on the lookout for anyone who showed up at any of the nearby clinics or hospitals with a gunshot wound.

  It still stung that Matt had hit his mark and saved Trace’s life. That made him beholden to the man. He couldn’t be mad that it had happened. Not when it meant he might be dead now if Matt hadn’t followed and fired when he had. Who knew his half brother was such a good shot? Hell, he didn’t know a whole lot about the man who was his father’s firstborn son. If only he hadn’t been the man Lily had fallen in love with. Trace wasn’t sure he could ever be cordial to him, knowing he was the one Lily had chosen over him.

  And it burned him up that Matt had disavowed loving Lily. How could he make her fall in love with him and then leave her when she thought he would marry her? All these years, Trace had thought Lily had married the love of her life. He’d tried to be content with the thought that she was happy and well taken care of. Even if he wasn’t the love of her life, he’d wanted her to be safe. All this time, she’d been alone.

  And she hadn’t let him know.

  Still...she’d responded to his kiss. There was something there.

  Was it enough?

  Did she care enough about him to want to give them a second chance?

  Trace wrapped his mother in his arms and squeezed her until she quit shaking. “Mom, I’m all right.” He held her at arm’s length and smiled. “See? I’m perfectly fine.”

  She looked up at him and frowned. “No, you aren’t. Did the bullet graze your cheek? Do I need to take you to the hospital?”

  Someone snorted somewhere behind him.

  Trace glanced over his shoulder to see Matt checking the fuel level on one of the tractors. He didn’t care if Matt thought he was a mama’s boy. His mother meant a lot to him, and she’d suffered a huge shock with the death of her husband. “I’m okay, Mom. It’s just a scratch I got out in the field.”

  “I punched him, Mrs. Travis,” Matt said. “The cut on his cheek has nothing to do with the shooter.” He glanced down at his bruised knuckles. “I’m sorry if that distresses you. I’ll understand if you don’t want me to stay.”

  Trace’s mother’s frown deepened as she glanced from Matt to Trace and back. “No. No. I’m sure there was a good reason for you two to argue. I’m sure it has to do with the woman calling the sheriff as we speak.”

  Trace’s eyes narrowed as he stared down at his mother. “What do you know about it?”

  She patted his chest. “That you better not get yourself shot.” His mother hugged him close and then stepped free of his arms. “I have dinner ready whenever you’re done here. Lily and I fed the animals, so all you need to do is wash up and come inside. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have rolls in the oven.” She turned and rushed back into the house.

  “Your mother has spunk,” Irish said. “And something smells good. I could eat a horse.”

  On cue, a horse whinnied from the barn.

  Irish’s eyes widened.

  “Watch what you say around the livestock,” Trace warned. “We only raise the most intelligent horses on Whiskey Gulch Ranch.” He said it with a str
aight face.

  Irish chuckled and then frowned. “You’re kidding, right?”

  Trace raised his eyebrow in response. Then he turned away. “Mom’s a good cook. Better hurry if you want to eat.” Trace headed for the house and the two women who meant the most to him. Over his shoulder, he said, “That includes you, Hennessey.”

  The two men followed him into the house and washed their hands in the downstairs bathroom. The table was set with five place settings. In the center lay a platter of crispy fried chicken and another of roasted potatoes.

  Lily entered the room and took a seat next to Matt. “The sheriff will be here in ten minutes.”

  “I’ll set a plate for him.” Trace’s mother jumped up from the table and brought another place setting.

  They settled in, passing the platters around the table.

  Once they all had food on their plates, his mother said, “Okay, fill me in on what happened.”

  Trace gave her an abbreviated version of what had happened, leaving out the fight with Matt. He ended with “We finished the mowing. As hot as it’s been, the hay should be dry enough to bale tomorrow.”

  “I don’t want you all going out tomorrow. It’s too dangerous,” his mother said.

  “We’ve got this, Mom,” Trace said. “We were a little distracted today, but it won’t happen again.”

  “If you insist on going, we’re all going,” his mother said.

  Trace stiffened. “You need to stay home, where it’s safe.”

  “I’m not staying locked in the house because someone is attacking my family,” his mother said. “I know how to use a gun. Besides, we need all the help we can get to bale and store the hay before that storm system gets here sometime over the next couple of days. Roy called and said he’d be back tomorrow to help. He can drive the truck and also provide some backup, even if he can’t do much in the way of heavy lifting.”

  Trace didn’t like it, but his mother was still in charge, as far as he was concerned, even if his father had left him and Matt with the ranch. “Okay, but you’re staying inside a vehicle.”

  “Deal,” she said with a smirk. “I’ll stay inside the cab of the tractor while I’m running the baling machine.”

  “I’ll run the baling machine,” Trace said.

  His mother snorted. “Not if you want to get those bales loaded and stored. Unless you want me to toss eighty-pound bales up onto the back of the trailer.” She raised her eyebrows and waited for his response.

  “No. I’ll toss bales. You can drive the baler, since you know how to run it.”

  She wouldn’t be inside the house, but being in the enclosed cab of the tractor was better than nothing. Irish would have to be on his toes while the rest of them were busy loading the bales onto the trailer.

  They were halfway through the meal when the sheriff showed up to take their statements. He accepted Mrs. Travis’s invitation to join them, eating only a little before he got to work.

  Trace, Irish and Matt took him out to where they’d been mowing so that he could see the tracks in the dirt, not that it would help much. The ground was dry, the wind had lifted some of the dust and deposited it into the grooves left by the four-wheeler’s tires.

  By the time they returned, dusk had settled over the land, making it difficult to distinguish anything in the shadows.

  The sheriff promised to ask around for anyone who showed up at the clinics or hospitals nearby with a gunshot wound. He’d also check with the neighbors to see if any of them showed signs of wounds. Other than that, they had no other leads.

  Once the sheriff left, Trace entered the house. He didn’t want to admit to himself he was looking for Lily...but he was.

  He didn’t find her in the living room or the kitchen, so he climbed the stairs and hovered outside her door. With no real need to talk to her, he reasoned he could fill her in on their visit with the sheriff. With that excuse in mind, he knocked on her door.

  No answer. He knocked again.

  “She’s out in the barn, checking on the animals,” his mother said from behind him.

  He forced a casual shrug. “I thought I’d fill her in on what the sheriff had to say.”

  His mother’s lips quirked in an almost smile. “You can fill me in.”

  He told her the information in a few short sentences.

  His mother frowned. “Is that all he can do?”

  “We don’t know who was after us, only that he rode an ATV and wore a helmet,” Trace concluded.

  His mother nodded. “Thank you. Now, go find Lily. I don’t like the idea of her out in the barn alone.” The older woman held up her hand. “I told her not to go out without a buddy.”

  “And she listened?” Trace shook his head. “She never listened to me, either.”

  “What happened between you and Lily?” his mother asked, her tone soft and whispered.

  “I don’t know. Ask her,” he said and moved past his mother. If he knew, he might have fixed it way back when whatever it was happened in the first place. Now it was too late.

  Or was it?

  * * *

  LILY WAS ON her way out to the barn when a voice called out.

  “Lily?”

  Lily turned to find Matt leaning against his motorcycle, his gaze on her. She altered her direction, aiming directly for him, anger spiking. “What the heck did you say to Trace to make him mad enough to hit you?”

  “I only told him the truth,” Matt said. “I told him that I never loved you like that. And for that I got slugged in the face.” He rubbed at the bruise on his cheek. His eyes narrowed. “Trace was under the impression that you and I were getting married. Where did he get an idea like that?”

  The anger drained out of her and Lily’s shoulders sagged. “It’s a long story.”

  “I have a few minutes. I’d like to hear it.” Matt crossed his arms over his chest.

  Lily glanced out at the horses grazing peacefully in the pasture and wished she could be as calm as they were. “I couldn’t ruin his military career before it even began.” She glanced back at Matt. “I was afraid that if he was associated with me, he wouldn’t have passed the background check.”

  Matt frowned. “So what did that have to do with me?”

  Lily looked again at the horses. “I had to do something that would make him leave me and not look back. Something that would break our connection so finally, no one would think we were ever together or had a chance of getting back together.”

  “So you used me,” Matt stated.

  Lily’s chin dipped. “Yes. And I’m sorry. I told him that I was dumping him because I’d fallen in love with you.”

  A smile quirked the corners of his lips. “And that’s such a bad thing?”

  She glanced up into his face. “Of course not. But to anyone else in town, it might have appeared to be. Not that this is news to you, but you were the biggest badass in Whiskey Gulch. Everyone would expect someone like me to be with someone like you. Not Trace.”

  Again, Matt rubbed his cheek. “So, you told him you were busting up with him to marry me.” He shook his head. “No wonder he was mad. You must have meant a lot to him if he’s still mad after all these years. And that would explain why you came over to my house out of the blue to watch television and why you took a photo of the two of us sitting on my couch.”

  Lily grimaced. “Yeah, about that...”

  Matt held up a hand. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “I’m sorry I used you,” Lily said.

  “What I don’t understand is why you haven’t set the record straight.”

  Lily stared down at her feet. “I guess in the back of my mind, I’d hoped he would come back and fight for me. When he didn’t, I listened to his mother’s accounts of how well he was doing in the army, going from a soldier to Delta Force in such a short amount of time. He w
as a hero. He was much better off without me. I couldn’t regret my decision to let go.”

  “You underestimate yourself,” Matt said. “You aren’t your parents.”

  She gave him a weak smile. “No. But...”

  Matt nodded. “I get it. Reputations are hard to overcome, whether they are earned or inherited.”

  Lily frowned up at Matt. “You won’t tell him any of this, will you?”

  “Of course not,” Matt said. “But you should. Seriously. Tell him.”

  Lily shook her head. “It’s too late for us. Eleven years is a long time. Enough time to get over someone.”

  Matt tipped her chin up. “Are you over him?”

  Lily’s bottom lip trembled, and a single tear rolled down her cheek. She wanted to kick herself for letting her emotions show. Especially to this man.

  Matt snorted softly and brushed the tear away with his thumb. “I guess that answers my question.”

  Lily’s eyes widened. “Please, don’t tell him.”

  “Hey.” Matt stared down into her eyes. “Your secret is safe with me. My lips are sealed.”

  Lily flung her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. “Thank you. Thank you, Matt.”

  “Don’t mention it,” Matt said. “Promise me that the next time you embroil me in one of your lies, at least clue me in. I don’t mind getting punched in the face as long as I know the reason why.”

  Lily reached up and brushed her finger across the bruise. “I’m really sorry about that. I promise I won’t do that again.”

  Matt looked over her shoulder and grimaced. “Well, we might have inadvertently done it again.”

  Lily’s heart skipped several beats as she turned to find Trace standing behind her as she stood in Matt’s arms.

  With a sly grin, Matt leaned down and pressed a kiss to Lily’s forehead. “This one’s for me.” Then he left her standing there and walked by Trace, bumping his shoulder accidentally on purpose as he passed.

  Trace’s face could have been set in stone as hard as his jaw was set. Lily recognized the tic in his cheek indicating just how angry he was. She’d seen it only when he was beyond angry with his father. Now he was mad at her.