by Irene Brand
“I feel sure that my grandfather Morgan is behind all of this—still trying to punish my parents through me.” Derek put his arm around her, and she snuggled close to him. “Don’t torture yourself with that idea, my love. Gabriel Morgan wouldn’t have any part in destruction like this.”
The minute the term of endearment was out of his mouth, Derek knew what he had done, and he felt heat starting from his neck and diffusing through his face.
He had determined to never tell Kennedy that he loved her. Now he’d called her the pet name he had used for her hundreds of times in his mind and his dreams. He tensed for her reaction, but if she had noticed the slip of his tongue, she didn’t say anything.
He heard the sheriff’s cruiser approaching, and he moved away, careful not to make eye contact with Kennedy until he got his emotions under control. “We’ll soon find out what the sheriff has to say.”
Kennedy turned to watch the approaching cruiser. In spite of the tragedy around her, a warm, gentle glow spread through her body. Because Derek had been so careful not to tell her that he loved her, she didn’t give any indication she’d noticed the slip of his tongue. But the easy way he had said “my love” told Kennedy what she longed to hear. He did love her, or the term wouldn’t have rolled so easily off his tongue. But she wouldn’t let on that she knew he loved her until the day he told her so.
The siren was turned off before the car got close to the cattle, but they were already spooked and quickly loped across the river. Another police vehicle followed close behind the other, which contained several men who quickly walked toward where the slaughtered animals were. Kennedy assumed they were a forensic team, although she was surprised that a small area like this would be that far advanced in detecting crime.
Sheriff Morgan parked the car and stepped out. Again Kennedy was impressed by the beauty and efficiency of the officer. Sweeping Derek and Kennedy with her extraordinary brown eyes, she said, “The Circle Cross is keeping me busy.” She walked closer to the slaughtered animals. “When do you think this happened, Derek?”
“I didn’t touch anything until you got here, but from the condition of the wounds and the stiff carcasses, I’d guess it was less than twelve hours ago. We haven’t checked this pasture for two days.”
She whistled when she saw the sign and looked significantly at Kennedy. “There’s considerable opposition in this state to setting aside land for parks and historic places, but I’ve never known anyone to go this far.”
“I didn’t tell Robin until yesterday that I had decided to register the Circle Cross,” Kennedy answered. “I can’t believe that it’s already common knowledge.”
“But you’ve always lived in a big city where people aren’t concerned about what their neighbors are doing.” With a piercing glance from her large eyes, the sheriff continued. “I’ve heard that you’ve turned down an offer to sell the ranch.”
“That’s true,” Kennedy admitted.
Shrugging her shoulders, the sheriff said, “Derek, let’s walk around and see if we can spot any clues.”
“Do you want to go with us?” Derek asked Kennedy.
“No, I wouldn’t be any help. I’ll stay here.” Kennedy climbed into Derek’s truck and watched as the forensic team moved among the slaughtered animals. The sheriff and Derek walked for more than hour, but Kennedy was content to wait.
A brisk wind was blowing, but the sun shone and she was physically comfortable. Her thoughts, however, were chaotic as she tried to sort out what steps she should take now. A reckless idea had popped into her head, but she wouldn’t tell Derek, for he probably wouldn’t approve.
Derek came to her as soon as they returned to the crime scene. “We couldn’t find how the person or persons got here. There are horse tracks around, but Al was riding when he found the cattle, so that doesn’t tell us much. No vehicles of any kind have been in the pasture recently. There’s a county road a mile south of here, so someone could have driven that far and walked.”
“What are you going to do with the carcasses?” she asked.
“If there was only one we’d bury it here, but with so many, I’ll call a slaughterhouse and have them hauled away.”
“That seems rather cruel,” Kennedy commented.
His large hand pulled her close, and she hid her face in his chest. “But not any worse than burying them. Believe me, Kennedy, I feel as bad as you do about this, so I’m not insensitive to the way the cattle died.”
“I didn’t think you were,” she assured him. “Is the sheriff about finished?”
“Yes. It’s going to be dark soon, so they can’t see anything more. I’ll phone Mom and tell her that we’re almost finished. I know she’s worried.” They made the return trip to ranch headquarters without talking much, but Kennedy sat close to Derek, her hand on his shoulder. Sometimes gestures conveyed more than words anyway, and she wanted him to know she didn’t hold him responsible for the death of the cattle. She turned down his invitation to eat with them.
She had a weighty decision to make, and she couldn’t be distracted by Derek’s presence when she made it.
Kennedy spent most of the night considering what she should do. If she thought the ranch’s problem would stop when she went back to California, she would go right away. Her refusal to sell the Circle Cross seemed to be the contention, but she wouldn’t sell the ranch no matter where she lived. At this point, all she wanted to do was make life easier for Derek.
After she heard Miranda leave in the morning, Kennedy put on her robe and, carrying her Bible, went to her favorite chair on the gazebo. A haze hanging over the river valley concealed the view of the countryside that she always enjoyed. It seemed as if she was in her own little world. She felt at home in this house and on the ranch, and she couldn’t bear the thought of leaving.
the ranch, and she couldn’t bear the thought of leaving.
God, just because I told Derek I would leave doesn’t mean I can’t return, but I can’t wallow in sentiment now. I have a decision to make today. I want to do the right thing, but if I take the bull by the horns for revenge, then I’m not living worthy of my Christian beliefs. I won’t ask Derek’s advice. But I need Your direction in deciding what action to take.
Kennedy recalled one of God’s promises that she’d relied on since the death of her father when she’d felt so inadequate to make decisions. She turned to the Thirty-second Psalm and found verse 8. “‘I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go; I will counsel you and watch over you.’” She meditated on these words, trying to relate them to the visit she wanted to make to her grandfather. She didn’t receive a definite no from God, and when the urge was still strong in her heart, she considered the promise God had made to David—also appropriate to her situation. She would go to see Gabriel Morgan.
Remembering his treatment of her mother, she was afraid to see him, but Kennedy believed that God would be with her. She might never have approached him if she didn’t suspect that he was the potential buyer for the ranch.
Kennedy would have preferred for Derek to know where she was going, but if he insisted that she shouldn’t go, she would hesitate to go against his advice. She didn’t want to stir up any more trouble for him, but she felt this was something she had to do. So she decided to make an effort to see her grandfather without telling anyone where she was going. But even as she reached the decision, she contemplated the wisdom of attempting this visit when no one knew where she was.
When she was ready to leave Riverside, she took the precaution of calling June to let her know that she was going into Valentine for a few hours.
Kennedy hadn’t driven by the Morgan home since the day Derek had showed it to her. The gates were open, so she drove up the circular drive and stopped near the front portico. Panic like she’d never known before swept through her as she walked up the steps and clacked the old-fashioned knocker several times.
A woman with a stern expression, who was probably in her sixties, soon opened
the door. Her speculative gaze rested on Kennedy, but she didn’t speak.
Determined not to be intimidated by this woman, Kennedy said in a strong, cool voice, “I want to see Mr. Morgan.”
“Do you have an appointment?” the woman asked.
“No, but I want to see him anyway,” Kennedy said bluntly. “I’m Kennedy Blaine.”
“Oh,” the woman said, staring at Kennedy with obvious interest. “I’ll check with Mr. Morgan,” she added and closed the door.
Wondering what she would do if her grandfather refused to see her, Kennedy sat in one of the cushioned porch chairs and reflected on the numerous times her mother might have sat in this same spot. Momentarily, she missed her mother so much that tears misted her eyes. She swiped them away. This wasn’t the time for melancholy.
The door opened behind her and Kennedy stood, again questioning what she would do if he refused to see her. But if Gabriel Morgan was the one trying to buy the Circle Cross, he was probably rubbing his hands in glee, thinking she’d been brought to her knees and had come to negotiate with him.
“You may come in,” the woman said. Her voice was friendly, which encouraged Kennedy somewhat. “I’m Esther Holmes, Mr. Morgan’s housekeeper.”
“I’m glad to meet you, ma’am,” Kennedy said.
With a sense of awe and some remorse, Kennedy stepped inside the house where her mother had once lived. She followed the middle-aged, gaunt woman down the hallway into a large, high-ceilinged room. The housekeeper closed the door behind her as she left the room.
A tall man with iron gray hair sat behind a massive walnut desk, staring at her from faded green eyes. He looked tough, sinewy, powerful. Although he was in his nineties, Morgan still had an overwhelming personality, for Kennedy sensed the strength of the man as soon as she entered the room. A mask of indifference covered what his feelings might have been as he stared at the granddaughter he’d never seen.
“Sit down,” he said, motioning to a chair near his desk.
She shook her head. “I’ll stand. This isn’t a social call.” Kennedy said, breathing a silent prayer of thanks that she didn’t feel intimidated. “I want to know if you’re the one who’s responsible for the harassment I’ve had since I came to Valentine. Are you trying to buy the Circle Cross?” Surprise lit Morgan’s eyes for a moment, but his face was impassive again when he said, “Not that it’s any of your business, but I did not make the offer. I wouldn’t take the Circle Cross if you gave it to me. I don’t want any property that once belonged to Alexander Blaine.” Strangely enough, Kennedy believed him. “Then,” she persisted, “were you responsible for the slaughter of five Circle Cross cows yesterday with a warning not to place the ranch on the National Register?”
Morgan’s mouth spread into a thin-lipped smile, and although Kennedy had thought he might fly into a rage because of her accusations, his eyes registered a strange, indefinable emotion. Could it be pride?
“I’m not in the habit of explaining, or justifying, my actions to anyone, but I’ll make allowances this one time. I had nothing to do with killing those animals.
That’s not the way I operate—but you’d better think twice before you tie up the Circle Cross by such a foolish move.”
“I didn’t come to ask for advice, thank you, only some information. I’ve learned what I need to know.” Kennedy turned to leave, when her grandfather’s laughter stopped her in her tracks. She faced him again when he said, “You sound just like your mother did when she stood in that exact same spot and told me she was going to marry Kenneth Blaine and I could like it or lump it. You may have been born a Blaine, but you’re a Morgan through and through.”
Smiling in spite of herself, Kennedy nodded. “My dad told me that numerous times, and I’ve also been reminded of the fact since I came to Valentine.” Morgan stood up, and his vital power and self-confidence filled the room.
“You may not want any advice, but I’ll give you some anyway. Smith Blaine is a crook, and he’s probably cheated your father out of a lot of money. If you’re going to keep the ranch, you’d better get rid of him.”
“I’ve already fired him. From now on Derek Sterling will report to me.”
He nodded approvingly. “Sterling is a good man.”
She turned again toward the door but stopped suddenly when he said, “Did your mother ever forgive me?” A tense stillness filled the room. Kennedy had come here expecting to dislike her grandfather. Instead she experienced a close filial connection to him, and she wished she could tell him what he obviously wanted to hear. Without turning, she said quietly, “No, she never did, and she passed the same loathing to me. I’ve tried to forgive you, but I can’t forget how lonely Mother was all of her life, wanting to return to Valentine and her family.” In a quiet voice he said, “If she had asked me to forgive her for marrying into a family I hated, I’d have relented.” Upon her deathbed, Grace Morgan Blaine had spoken of Nebraska, and Kennedy remembered anew the sadness on her face and in her voice during her last days. Facing her grandfather, she said, “Ah, but you see, it didn’t work that way. She expected you to take the first step toward reconciliation. Remember, she was a Morgan, too!”
She turned on her heel, ran out of the room, down the hallway, and out of the house. Tears blinded her eyes as she left the estate grounds. She had never missed her mother more than she did at this moment.
Kennedy wanted Derek to know where she’d been before he learned it from another source, so she pulled into the ranch yard on her return. He was walking from the barn toward the house, and he came to meet her.
He started to open the door, but she forestalled him. “I’m not coming in, Derek, but you need to know where I’ve been this morning.” Looking up at him and hoping for understanding, she told every detail of her visit with Gabriel Morgan. He listened intently, and when she finished, he said, “I never did believe he was involved in what’s going on out here. He’s hardhanded and vicious sometimes, but whatever he does is always within the law.”
“You aren’t mad at me for going without telling you?” she pleaded.
Her hand was lying on the door, and he covered it with his warm fingers. His eyes were warm and gentle. “It was your decision to make, and I wanted you to see your grandfather. There are worse people in Cherry County than Gabriel Morgan. I’d give a lot if I had a grandfather to know, even one as ornery as yours.”
“But we still don’t have an answer as to who wants to buy the ranch and why,” Kennedy said.
“I’ve been thinking that the quicker you complete your National Register plans and make it known that the Circle Cross is going to remain rangeland, your harassment might stop.”
“According to Robin it’s a slow process, and might not happen at all,” Kennedy commented.
Tension spread across his face. “Just be careful until you can get a flight home.”
“This is so frustrating to me. I thought I was settled for the rest of the summer. I want to stay here.” When a grimace of pain crossed his face, she said, “I’m sorry.
I know you wouldn’t ask me to leave if it wasn’t for my own good.”
“I’m afraid for you, Kennedy. There’s something wicked going on here, and I can cope with it better if I’m not worried about you all the time.” He whistled for Wilson. “I forgot to send him home with you last night.”
When Wilson hopped into the car, Kennedy released the brake, saying, “Then I’ll make arrangements to leave as soon as possible. But, Derek, I am coming back.”
The expression on his face was unfathomable, so she didn’t know if he wanted her to return to Nebraska. Had she been too pointed in her interest in Derek? Had she been pushing herself into his life? Perhaps his emotions hadn’t been as deeply stirred as hers had been.
The next morning Kennedy walked to the door with Miranda and watched as she drove away. She took a broom from a cabinet and started sweeping the dust and cottonwood leaves that had accumulated near the gazebo.
She was
thinking how much she would miss the ranch when Wilson started barking inside the house, and she suddenly had a feeling that somebody was standing behind her. Kennedy knew it was danger of some kind, for Derek would never slip up on her that way. She had started to turn when a strong arm grabbed her, and before she could cry out, a piece of duct tape was pasted over her mouth. A dark cloth was thrown over her head and her hands were tied behind her back.
Wilson’s frantic barking echoed around the area, and Kennedy realized that she hadn’t unhooked his leash yet. Hands fumbled at her waist, momentarily terrifying her until she realized that a rope was being tied around it.
A guttural male voice said, “Watch the steps.” The man tugged on the rope. As she walked forward, a large hand held her arm as she eased her way carefully off the porch. Her captor walked close in front of her and Kennedy bumped into him, though he set a rapid pace. She lost all sense of direction, but she believed they must be walking through the woods because she occasionally bumped into solid objects that could only be trees. When she slowed down, the man tugged on the rope and jerked her forward.
Trees lined the Niobrara River along the trail she’d often ridden with Derek, so they might be heading in that direction. Once she got over her initial fright, Kennedy knew she must be alert to any opportunity to get away from this man. She was able to see slightly through the black hood. She made out the form of her captor. He was a man of medium height, but brawny. He seemed to be dark-skinned and with black hair, but the dark cloth over her face might have made him look that way.
Although she had dressed in slacks and a knit shirt when she’d gotten up, she hadn’t put on any shoes. The terrycloth scuffs she wore provided little protection, and in a short time, Kennedy’s feet were scratched and blistered. Her arms were numb from the tight string around them. It seemed as if they’d been walking for miles when her captor stopped suddenly and she bumped into him again. Unable to breath through her mouth, she inhaled deeply.