by Judith Stacy
“She’s accustomed to the comforts and benefits a large city can provide.”
“Not a thing wrong with clean, fresh Nebraska air, Juliette. It’s peaceful in the country. No crowds. No noise. Wide-open spaces. I’d say those are damn nice benefits for a rancher’s wife.”
“Oh, Tru.” He made things sound so logical and simple. Was she really as narrow-minded as he claimed?
“Juliette. Look at me.”
She did, and her heart gave a funny flip. The collar of his crisp white shirt—his Sunday best, she guessed, and donned for his intended evening out with Gaylene—provided a stark contrast against the tanned column of his throat. The room’s gaslight glinted off his dark hair, thick and shining and carelessly swept back from his forehead. He looked incredibly strong sitting there across from her. Handsome and masculine. Juliette wondered how she’d been able to walk away from him all those years ago.
“I know you’re worried about Camille,” Tru said quietly. His fingers curled loosely around her ankle, as if he’d forgotten about her tired feet. “Try not to. I have a strong suspicion she’s with Ryan somewhere. He’ll take care of her.”
“But Ryan wasn’t to meet with her until dinner. She ran out of the hotel hours before that.”
“He left our place in the early afternoon. He was heading to town. Didn’t say why, and I didn’t ask. Not too hard to figure out Camille was on his mind.”
“What if you’re wrong, Tru? She could be lost or hurt.”
He released her ankle and sat back in his chair. He reached for the bottle of beer. “Since it concerns you so much, I’ll help you look for her. Finish your wine, and we’ll go.”
Gratitude sprang to life inside her, but on its heels, an image of Gaylene. “You’ve made plans for the evening. I can’t ask you to give them up on my account.”
“You’re not asking. I’m offering. Besides, Gaylene will understand.”
“I see.”
The woman sounded insufferably nice, and Juliette endured a twinge of jealousy over it. She took a healthy swig of wine.
“Hey, Tru! How the hell are you? Haven’t seen you in a spell.”
She started at the booming voice from the kitchen and hastily pulled her foot from Tru’s lap. Still shoeless, she adjusted her skirts and assumed a ladylike posture in her seat.
The door swung shut behind Stan as he approached their table with a bowlegged swagger. His white apron stretched across his ample belly, and a broad smile creased his cheeks. He grabbed a chair from a nearby table, plopped it next to theirs and straddled it.
“Good to see you, Stan.” Tru extended his arm and shook the restaurant proprietor’s beefy hand.
“So who’s the pretty lady?” Stan asked, grinning and eyeing her with flagrant male curiosity. Though he was probably old enough to be her grandfather, there was appreciation, too. “Haven’t seen this one on your arm before.”
“Name’s Juliette Blanchard.”
“Blanchard.” Stan’s grin faltered. His glance jerked to Tru. “Avery Blanchard’s kin?”
Tru finished off the beer in one long swallow. He set the bottle down before responding with a curt nod. “His daughter.”
“Yeah?”
Stan stared at Juliette, as if seeing her in a different light now that he knew who she was, and a not particularly favorable light at that.
The man’s behavior was both unexpected and puzzling. She’d never seen him before in her life. Juliette managed a cool smile and extended her hand in greeting. “You knew my father, then, Mr.—?”
“Parsons. Stan Parsons.” He took her hand in a firm handshake. “Yeah, I knew him.”
“Oh? How so?”
Again, Stan looked at Tru, as if seeking permission to reply.
“Stan used to own the Antler Saloon.” Tru spoke for him, his tone grim. “He was there the night my father was killed.”
The Antler Saloon. Juliette recognized the name, and a prickle of unease skidded down her spine.
“If you want to know of his association with your father, you’d best be prepared for what he has to say,” Tru added. “If you’re not, we’ll leave right now.”
In growing trepidation, she studied the restaurant owner’s serious expression. “Perhaps this is something I need to know, Tru.”
Father had forbidden her to speak of that terrible night so long ago, the night when James McCord had died a violent death.
The night that had ended her love affair with Tru.
Why would Father forbid it?
Suddenly, she had to know what happened.
“Reckon you’re not going to like what you hear,” Tru warned grimly.
Juliette swallowed. As much as she worried over her sister’s whereabouts, removing the veil of ominous secrecy from that night was more important.
“I want to know the truth about what happened,” she said. “Tell me everything.”
Chapter Five
The restaurant owner hooked an arm over the back of the chair. “Your father had a reputation for being a hard man, Miss Blanchard. There’s some that say a good businessman has to know how to hit below the belt to succeed. Your daddy knew all the ways.”
She arched a brow. “How so, Mr. Parsons?”
“He knew people. He had men who worked under him to help get what he wanted.”
“My father was an ambitious man, yes,” she said carefully. What was Stan insinuating? That her father was less than honorable?
“’Course, money’ll get a man to do most anything. Money or a woman. In your daddy’s case, it was both.”
“A woman!” Juliette was instantly incensed. “My parents were deeply in love. If you’re claiming he took a mistress, I’ll refuse to believe—”
Stan held up a hand. “Hold on, Miss Blanchard. I ain’t claiming that at all. No, ma’am. He loved your mama, all right.”
“More than anything,” she said fiercely, flooded with a rush of happy memories of them together.
“Yes. Your mama loved him, too, but maybe not as much as he loved her.”
Juliette’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?”
“Her heart belonged to another man,” Stan said. “Even after she married Avery, she couldn’t get her first love off her mind.”
“I don’t believe it,” said Juliette, aghast.
“She had an affair with my father, Juliette,” Tru said. “After she married yours.”
Shock rolled through her. Mama and James McCord?
“They’d known each other since they were kids. Pa even proposed when they were of age, but she spurned him and went off to school in St. Louis. Eventually, she married Avery and bore his daughters. Pa and Elizabeth didn’t see one another again until Avery brought you all back to Omaha.”
“When he took the job as bank president.”
“Yes.”
“I remember James and Mama meeting.” It’d been purely by chance, outside a grocer’s store. Mama had been flustered, a little giddy. Juliette had seen the flush to her cheeks, the brightness in her eyes. The pair had visited an extraordinarily long time, but Juliette hadn’t minded.
Tru had been there, too.
“You were wearing a pink dress,” he murmured now, watching her. “And a hat to match.”
“Yes.” And you stole my heart that day.
“He was never good enough for her,” Tru went on matter-of-factly, as if he’d accepted it long ago. “After all, he was just a two-bit gambler with a couple of sons he’d fathered with a prostitute, and a run-down ranch he managed to scratch a living on. He couldn’t give her the life she was accustomed to. Or the respect. Society meant everything to Elizabeth. She intended to keep her place in it.”
Yes, Juliette thought, with a pang of dismay. Mama thrived on dinner parties, the theater, expensive trips abroad with friends. All the things a wealthy man like Father could give her.
“Avery found out about the affair and held James responsible,” Stan said. “Your mama decided she wanted to stay married and keep t
he good life Avery had given her, so she ended the trysts with James. But James refused to give her up. He made a real nuisance of himself, slandering your daddy every chance he got. Long about the same time, Tru started to court you. It was Avery’s worst nightmare to realize the two of you were smitten.”
“Oh, God.” Father had been furious, she recalled. He’d forbidden her from seeing Tru ever again, but it’d been Mama who’d soothed her and found a way….
“Avery decided to take matters into his own hands. One night, back when I still owned the Antler, he paid me a visit. Came late at night, after my last customer left, so we were alone in the place. Said he knew I had a loan at his bank, but he’d make sure the account was paid off if I’d find him the best professional gambler I knew.” Stan hesitated. “If I didn’t, he’d call the loan in.”
“He blackmailed you?” Juliette whispered.
“Yes, ma’am, he did. Now, I’ve owned saloons all my life. Only natural that I’d meet quite a few cardsharps, and none of them could play better than Roger Stillman. Folks called him ‘Ace’ because he always seemed to have a spare when he needed it the most.” Stan shrugged. “Hell, what would it matter if I introduced them? Wasn’t my place to ask why your daddy needed a cardsharp. All I wanted was to get out of debt, so I sent word to Ace. He took the next train out here.”
“Why did Father need Mr. Stillman’s expertise?” Juliette asked, half-afraid to find out.
“Justice,” Tru murmured.
She swung her gaze toward him in horror. “For Mama’s affair?”
Tru nodded. “Stillman invited my father to join him for a private game in the back room of the Antler. Pa jumped at the chance. Stillman was a high roller. Pa figured he had as good a chance of winning against him as anyone else. He had a few debts of his own to pay off. I suppose he thought he could make himself look good to your mother, too.” A corner of Tru’s mouth lifted. “Pa was an optimist. Always thought he could beat out his opponents. Got him into more trouble than he could stay out of, I’m afraid.”
“James had no idea he was being set up.” Stan took up the story thread while Tru strode to the bar. “I’d seen enough card games in my day that I could tell he didn’t know. Ace let him win for a few hours. The chips began to pile up. ’Course, the riper the pot, the greedier James got.”
Tru returned with the wine bottle and refilled Juliette’s glass. “Then he started to lose. Again and again. Wasn’t long before Pa got suspicious about his sudden turn of bad luck.”
“Desperate, too,” Stan added.
Tru nodded. “Came down to the last hand. Pa was almost out of chips. He had only one thing left to bet.”
“McCord land,” Juliette whispered.
“Don’t know what the hell he was thinking,” Tru muttered.
Stan raked a hand through his thinning hair. “When he lost that, too, he jumped up from the table and accused Ace of cheating. Now, both men had been drinking heavily. Hell, we’d all had our share of whiskey that night. But looking back, I can’t help thinking Ace was more sober than we knew. When James started yelling, Ace whipped out a sawed-off Remington .44. He only fired once, but that’s all it took.”
Juliette pressed her fingers to her lips and stifled a sob.
“I never figured him for a killer, Miss Blanchard,” Stan said. “Never knew Avery had an ulterior motive in hiring him, either.”
“You can’t prove any of this,” she choked out.
Tru’s hard gaze held hers. “No. We can’t.”
“Your daddy made sure of that,” Stan agreed with a grim nod.
“You’re wrong about him. You’re wrong about all this,” she cried desperately.
“I was at the saloon, Juliette,” Tru said. “I saw everything.”
“But maybe Father didn’t have an ulterior motive that night,” Juliette said. “Maybe it was all a horrible mistake, a misconception on your part.”
“Stillman skipped town afterward,” Tru said roughly. “No one’s heard from him since. We tried to get the police to file charges and issue a warrant for his arrest, but the chief was a personal friend of your father’s. His wife was your godmother. Not a damn thing was done about Pa’s murder.”
“Didn’t even get reported in the Omaha Bee or the Herald.” Stan shook his head. “Reckon your daddy had a part in that, too. Most folks never knew about the murder, and those that did acted like it never happened.”
Juliette threw back a quick swallow of wine. The next day, Father had sent them all to Europe for the summer. He didn’t go with them due to business commitments.
Or so he claimed.
Was it to ensure that the scandal remained out of the public’s eye? Did he hope to spare Mama and Juliette the certainty of ugly rumors? Did he expect them to simply forget about the McCords by the time they returned to the States?
If so, he was a fool. Juliette had never forgotten Tru. And how dare Father remove him from her life.
She would never know Mama’s feelings about losing the man who had first stolen her heart. If her marriage had suffered, if she’d suspected Father’s part in the killing, she’d never let on. Her parents had appeared as happy as they’d ever been.
The terrible scarlet fever set in soon after that, and the Blanchard sisters’ lives changed forever.
“I’ve had my share of guilt over it,” Stan was saying as Juliette dragged herself back to the conversation. “Since then, I’ve made my peace with Tru and Ryan.” He sighed heavily. “After that night, the Antler left a sour taste in my mouth. I sold the place. Opened this here little eatery instead.”
Juliette needed a moment to allow the shock to settle. She’d known of her father’s contempt for James McCord, of course, but the depth of his hatred mortified her. Did Father have any idea how many lives he’d hurt because of it?
Humbled, saddened, confused, she lifted an unsteady hand and rubbed her brow. An ache had begun to form at her temples. “I don’t know what to say.”
“No need to say anything. But whatever you’re thinking, I hope you know everything we’ve told you is the truth. I’ve never lied to you,” Tru said.
Feeling miserable, Juliette dropped her gaze to her empty glass. “No.”
He’d done nothing to deserve the heartache and pain of what Father had done to him or Ryan. No wonder the McCords despised the Blanchards.
The restaurant had begun to fill with patrons, and Stan rose from his chair. “I’d best head back into the kitchen. It was real nice meeting you, Miss Blanchard. Hope the next time we see each other, we’ll have something more pleasant to talk about.”
She frowned. “I doubt there’d be anything worse.”
“I’m sure you’ll find your sister in no time.” Concern furrowed his bushy brow as he turned to Tru. “Anything I can do to help?”
Tru withdrew a few coins from his hip pocket and dropped them on the table. “Not at this point, but thanks. We’ll head to the hotel first to see if she’s there.”
Camille. Oh, Lord. Juliette pushed her feet back into her shoes. Tru took her elbow and helped her from the chair. He acknowledged Stan’s sympathetic look with a curt nod and ushered her to the door.
“I suppose you hate me all over again,” he said in a low voice.
“I need some time to think this through.”
“Anyone would.”
“And I don’t hate you. But if I find out what you’re saying is pure slander against Father—”
“You won’t.” He seemed impatient she would think so.
“—then I shall never forgive you.”
A matronly woman and a tall, sunburned cowboy with graying sideburns entered the restaurant and prevented his response. Seeing Tru, a wide grin appeared on the man’s face, and they shook hands. Tru introduced the couple to Juliette as Cal and Esther Workman, local ranchers.
“How the hell are you, Tru?” he asked. “Been meaning to pay a call on you.”
“I’m good, Cal. Real good.” Tru glanced at th
e woman. “Esther, don’t tell me he’s giving you a night away from the kitchen.”
“He is,” she said, smiling. “My birthday. He knows better than to forget.”
“Got lucky this year. Early enough in calving season to spare the time to take her to town.” Cal winked at his wife, then turned back to Tru. “Been thinking of your cows. Have any calved yet?”
Pride shone in Tru’s expression. “One so far. Just this morning. Born perfect, too.”
“You know I’m interested in building up my stock with your bull’s bloodline. Mind if I stop out sometime this week? I’m hoping we can do some business.”
“Anytime. You know that.”
“I’ll do it. See you soon, then.”
After a round of goodbyes, Juliette and Tru left. She could see Tru was well-liked in Omaha, had made friends and survived the scandal her father had caused. He was a different man than his father. Honest and hardworking. It seemed Tru had begun to build a name for himself as a respected stockman, as well.
No wonder his land was so important to him.
Deeply troubled, Juliette brooded about the day’s events in silence. She didn’t realize they’d reached the Paxton Hotel until Tru guided her into the lobby.
“Let’s check with the desk clerk. Maybe he’s seen Camille,” he said, and she agreed.
After hearing a quick description of her sister, the young clerk nodded. “Yes, she was here, oh, about an hour ago.” He smiled. “Guess she’d left without her room key earlier this afternoon. She stopped at the desk to get another.”
Juliette pressed a hand to her breast in relief. “Thank God. She looked well, then?”
“Very well. The gentleman with her seemed quite smitten, if you know what I mean.” The clerk grinned.
“Ryan.” Juliette exchanged a glance with Tru, and he nodded.
“Yes, I believe that’s what she called him,” the clerk said.
“She’s probably in the room then.”
“I’m afraid not. I saw them leave again, shortly after they stopped by the desk. Of course, I don’t know where they went. They had no reason to tell me.”