by Anne Stuart
Of course, he knew perfectly well her motives weren’t that pure. She’d been her usual calm, friendly, sisterly self, the way she always was. It was the manner she’d used for years to keep predatory men at bay. God knows, Tanner was the most predatory male she’d seen in a long time. Maybe in her entire life. He needed to be kept at arm’s length. She’d been so determined to be calm and friendly, and he’d almost managed to rile her. Almost, nothing! He had riled her. At least she could hope that she hadn’t showed it.
What she needed to do was help Ginger. She knew her old friend well enough to recognize the predatory female of the species. The two of them would make a perfect pair, and if Ellie had any sense at all she’d do a little discreet matchmaking.
She deliberately loosened her death grip on the steering wheel. Well, maybe that wasn’t such a good idea. Besides, how long was Tanner going to be around? It couldn’t be that long, given the hostility of the town. What she needed to do, instead of trying to provide a social life for the man, was to help him in his quest. He wanted reasons, he wanted answers. She could help him find those reasons and those answers.
She knew better than anyone else who’d suffered at Charles Tanner’s hands. She knew the people who’d known Tanner’s father, the people who could shed some light on it. She knew where the bodies were buried, figuratively and literally.
Her course was clear. She’d drive back out to that depressing, tumbledown cabin tomorrow morning and offer her assistance in his quest. With her to speed things along he might very well be gone by the Fourth of July. For everyone’s sake she could only hope so.
The massive Victorian house the Judge had left her was a blaze of lights. She squashed the tiny feeling of guilt that assailed her. Most people in this economically strapped town couldn’t afford to leave their lights blazing. But Ellie lived alone, and not for anything in the world would she enter that huge old structure with only a light or two burning.
Tonight was worse than usual. The sky was overcast, blanketing even the stars, and the blackness around her was thick and inky. If she turned on every light in the entire house it wouldn’t keep the darkness at bay.
She pulled into the driveway and turned off the car. As she opened the door the telltale buzzer sounded, reminding her she’d left the keys in the ignition. Maybe Tanner was right, maybe she was a little too trusting. She pulled out the keys and headed into the house.
* * *
Chapter Six
* * *
Civilization woke Tanner with a vengeance. His head was pounding, his mouth tasted like an armadillo, and his brain was still reeling with the worst nightmares he’d had in almost fifteen years. He sat up on the sagging cot, groaning, staring around him in bleary-eyed disapproval. Why was he hanging around here, in a place full of miserable memories? What the hell did he need the best horse-breeding ranch in New Mexico for, anyway? Maybe he should just take off, head for Canada. He’d always wanted to take the Yukon trail up to Alaska.
He reached for the crumpled pack of cigarettes, then remembered he’d smoked the last one. Cursing, he pulled himself out of bed and headed for the doorless front entrance. Served him right, he thought, stumbling barefoot over the gravel and twigs. He shouldn’t be smoking at all.
The spring was still flowing, pure and clear. He washed his face in the icy water, then shook his head back, trying to clear the excesses of the night before. It had been nobody’s fault but his own. He’d had too much to drink at Doc Barlow’s, and then finding that shredded cigarette butt had sent him to his own bottle. He’d probably finished that too—he couldn’t remember. If he hadn’t, he had every intention of pouring it out. If he was going to stay on here for even another twenty-four hours he was going to have to do it stone-cold sober.
And he was going to stay on, he knew it full well. He wasn’t staying for the horse ranch, or even for Alfred’s sake, however much he owed the old man. No, he was staying on for himself, for the hope of a future that would be, if not free from the past, at least at peace with it.
He heard the scrunch of the tires on the gravel outside almost an hour later, but he didn’t bother to look out. A small, smug smile lit his face as he tipped back the rickety chair and waited for Ellie Lundquist to walk in the door.
His self-satisfied smirk faltered somewhat as he heard the uneven sound of her footsteps, but he refused to let it bother him. He sat there, waiting, a trap ready to be sprung.
Ellie stopped in the doorway, and the sunlight silhouetted her lean figure. She was wearing jeans again, and her hair wasn’t in that tight knot she’d worn the night before. Probably she was supposed to be down-to-earth and disarming, he thought cynically. It would take more than that to disarm him.
“You’re up,” she said, her low, husky voice a continual surprise to him. “I was afraid I came out too early.”
“I’ve been up for hours,” he lied. “Want some coffee?”
She stepped over the threshhold, her eyes narrowed as they adjusted to the dim light. “All the comforts of home.”
He reached forward and poured her a tin cup of the thick brew. “You’ll have to drink it black. I don’t come equipped with cream and sugar.”
“Black will be fine.” She took a tentative sip without shuddering. He had to admire her self-control. His coffee could strip the paint off a tractor.
“Have a seat,” he offered magnanimously. “And then you can tell me what you want.” He was sitting in the only chair in the shack—so that left the narrow, sagging cot. Maybe she’d opt for the floor.
But Ellie Lundquist was made of sterner stuff. After all, she’d drunk his coffee without flinching. She perched on the side of the bed, cradling the cup of poisonous-tasting brew as if seeking warmth. It was going to be a hot day—she didn’t need that warmth.
She was doing a good job of looking at him too, he thought lazily, taking another gulp of his coffee and waiting patiently. He was wearing jeans and nothing else. She was keeping that even, friendly gaze on his face, but she’d let it drift down his tanned chest as if it held no more interest than the familiar landscape. He didn’t believe it.
“Actually,” she said, taking another drink of his coffee without flinching, “I was wondering what you want.”
He smiled, a brief, lazy smile, fantasizing for a moment how she’d react if he walked over to that narrow, rumpled bed and showed her exactly what he wanted. “I told you last night,” he said, not moving. “I want to find out about my father.”
“Well,” she said, sitting back on his bed, “I’m here to help you.”
“Are you?”
If he’d wanted to daunt her he failed. “Yes. I’ve got a car, you don’t. I’ve lived in Morey’s Falls all my life; I know more about this place than anyone else, with the possible exception of Maude. I can help you find the answers you want.”
“Why would you want to do that?” He drained his coffee cup and set it down on the scarred wooden table, barely controlling his own reflexive shudder. “More of your welcome wagon act?”
Her eyes met his. “You want the truth?”
“That’s always preferable.”
She rose, moving across the room to the empty window frames, her limp barely perceptible. “I’ll help you because I want you to leave,” she said flatly. “I think you’ll stir up a lot of pain and trouble, and the sooner you’re gone the better. So I’m here—” she turned to face him then “—to speed you on your way.”
“Better than tar and feathers,” he said. “What if I decide I like it here? If I want to stay around, to start a family?”
“You won’t,” she said.
“You sound pretty sure of that.”
“No one would stay here if they didn’t have to.”
“Do you have to?” He rose, stretching in the low-ceilinged cabin. He felt her eyes drift down for a moment, then jerk back upward to his face.
“For now,” she said. “Do you want my help or not?”
He reached for his clean f
lannel shirt and pulled it on, buttoning it and rolling up the sleeves with graceful economy of movement. “I’m in your hands. Where do we start?”
He could see the tension leave her shoulders. Had she relaxed because he accepted her help? Or because he’d put on his shirt? Maybe a little of both. For all her seeming coolness he could tell for a fact she wasn’t used to half-dressed men. Maybe the Judge had insisted on making love in the dark.
“We start with the newspaper office.”
“I’ve been there. I don’t think Poor Lonnie’s going to welcome me with open arms.”
“I talked with him this morning. He’ll be waiting for us,” she replied.
“Pretty sure of yourself, weren’t you? How’d you get him to cooperate?”
“Lonnie and I are old friends.” Her husky voice had just the faintest tinge of repressiveness.
“Okay,” he said. “We need to stop on the way for cigarettes.”
“I don’t think so.”
“You should stop being a pain in the neck,” he said, following her out into the early-morning sunshine. “Does anybody ever come out here?” He kept his voice casual as he slid into the passenger seat and began pulling on his running shoes.
She had a strange expression on her face, one he couldn’t quite fathom, as she climbed in beside him and started the big car. “Why do you ask? Does it look like someone’s been staying here?”
“Nope. I was just curious.” Curious about a cigarette butt that could have been mine, but wasn’t, he thought. But there was no need to tell Ellie Lundquist about that.
“No one comes out here,” she said. “They think it’s haunted.”
“By my father?” he asked, unmoved. “Or his victims?”
“It depends on who you ask. It’s also near the site of an Indian massacre. The U.S. government wiped out an entire village: men, women and children. The area doesn’t have a happy history.”
“It doesn’t sound like it. And I suppose some people think it was the ghosts of the Indians that drove my father nuts?”
“How’d you guess?”
“I hope that’s not a popular belief. It’s not the answer I’m looking for.”
She glanced over at him. “You can’t afford to be too picky. I don’t know if you’ll like any of the answers you’re going to get. If you don’t want to hear them, go back home.”
“Don’t rush me, Ellie. I’ll leave when I’m finished here, and not before.”
She stamped on the accelerator and the car jerked forward. “We’ll just have to see that you finish quickly,” she said grimly.
“What’s the rush? Don’t you like me?”
“I don’t like being toyed with.” There was an edge to her voice he couldn’t miss. “And I don’t like needless suffering. This town has been through enough. You have every right to try to understand what happened, but you have no right to make things worse for these poor people.”
“At the hands of the Tanner family?” he supplied in a silky, dangerous voice.
“I didn’t say that....”
“And what about you? Haven’t you suffered? With that pathetic limp and that kindly behavior I bet you’re the town saint. A perfect contrast to the bad penny showing up.”
If he’d hoped to shock her he’d succeeded. “Is it everyone you hate, or just me?” she said quietly.
“Don’t flatter yourself. You’re just one of a faceless pack. My father’s blameless victims, suffering nobly at the hands of evil incarnate.”
“If you believe that, why are you here?”
“I want to see if it’s true. I want to see if things are black and white, or if there’s a little gray thrown in.”
“You’re hoping to find some justification for your father opening fire on a Fourth of July celebration?” Ellie scoffed. “Don’t count on it.”
“Not justification. Reasons.”
“We’ll find your reasons,” she said. “Then will you leave?”
She was paying more attention to him than to the road. He smiled, an innocent smile that wouldn’t have fooled her for a moment. “Then I’ll leave,” he agreed.
* * * * *
She had a knot in her stomach the size of a fist. First there’d been a sleepless night. Then the anxiety of driving out Route 5 to offer her help to that graceless savage. She’d had to drink coffee that tasted like kerosene, watch him parade around half-naked and then put up with him baiting her while they drove into town.
If she weren’t so desperate to get him out of Morey’s Falls, out of Montana, she’d have kicked him out of her car. A small, craven part of her wanted to abdicate. If Tanner wouldn’t leave, she would. She could fill up the tank of the Buick and start driving, not stopping until she got to civilization and people who had never heard of Charles Tanner.
But she wouldn’t do that. She’d stick it out. Just two and a half weeks, and then she’d leave. If she could help keep things relatively placid during her last days there, then she’d be able to leave in peace. Tanner could go back to wherever he came from, and the townspeople could get on with their lives. Two and a half weeks.
She pulled up the car in front of Addie’s Quickstop just outside of town. She had no idea whether Addie Pritchard had heard about Tanner’s arrival, and she didn’t really care. “Get your cigarettes,” she said in a sour voice.
He didn’t say a word, he just smiled that wicked smile of his that never reached his eyes and slid out of the car. She sat there, watching him go, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel. Addie wouldn’t refuse to serve him, would she? Addie was a great, cheerful mountain of a woman, an impartial friend to all. That friendliness probably wouldn’t extend to Tanner, but Ellie couldn’t see her being vindictive.
Or could she? It was taking Tanner a long time to buy something as simple as a carton of cigarettes. Addie kept a gun beneath the cash register to ward off intruders. Maybe she’d decided to dispense a little rough justice to the nearest thing to Charles Tanner that was left on this earth.
Ellie slammed open the car door and rushed up the front steps of the little store, forgetting her cane, forgetting her lame leg. Tanner was standing at the counter, seemingly at ease, and the glance he threw in her direction was no more than mildly curious.
Ellie stopped running, sauntered into the store and picked up the first thing she could find. “I... I forgot. I needed something,” she said breathlessly.
“Did you?”
She nodded, placing the box on the counter beside Tanner’s carton of cigarettes. “Where’s Addie?”
“Haven’t seen her yet. You sure you need that?” He nodded his head toward her hastily grabbed purchase.
She looked down at the bright-pink box of perfume. “One Night of Love Musk Oil, Guaranteed to Make Any Man Your Slave,” the box proclaimed. It was a brand Ginger Barlow favored, and it smelled like insect repellent to Ellie. The scantily-dressed couple on the garish package left little to the imagination, and Ellie could feel the color flood her face. She looked up, into Tanner’s amused gaze, and considered brazening it out. Considered, then rejected the idea. Addie wasn’t known for her discretion, and Ellie Lundquist buying One Night of Love Musk Oil would shock Morey’s Falls past redemption.
“No,” she said, picking the box up again. “I don’t need it. I just wanted to make sure you were all right.”
She could see the faint expression of shock wipe the humor from his face. He clearly wasn’t used to having anyone watch out for him. Score one for her. She’d finally managed to throw him off balance, at least a little bit.
“Sorry.” Addie bustled into the room, her broad moon face red and panting. “I was on the phone. How are you, Ellie? Haven’t seen you in weeks.”
“Just fine, Addie,” she said. “How’s yourself?”
“Can’t complain. What the hell have you got in your hand, missy?”
Trust Addie to be indiscreet. So far she hadn’t done more than give Tanner a cursory glance, and Ellie felt herself relax. “I
picked it up by mistake,” she said with a grin, putting the box back on the shelf. “I don’t need it.”
“More’s the pity,” Addie said, turning her attention to her other customer. Her eyes widened for a moment, and her huge bulk quivered.
Tanner had stiffened, waiting for God knows what. He didn’t know about the gun Addie kept, and Ellie primed herself, ready to leap.
Addie leaned forward, putting her meaty fists on the scratched Formica counter. “Well, well, well,” she said, and there was no anger in her voice. “Look who we have here.”
Tanner didn’t say a word, and the wary posture remained the same. “Who do you have here?” he asked.
Suddenly Addie smiled, a beam of welcome wreathing her broad, red face. “Marbella’s boy,” she said firmly. “Your ma and I grew up together. We were best friends all our lives, until she had the good sense to get the hell out of here, away from the crazy man she married. You look just like her.”
Some of the tension left his shoulders. “So I’ve been told. But I’ve got my father’s coloring.”
Damn the man, Ellie wailed inwardly. Couldn’t he just let things be?
Addie nodded. “You do. It can’t be helped. You’re his son as well as Marbella’s, and there’s no changing that. Your ma was a fine lady, son. As fine a one as I’ve ever known. You ever need anything, you just let Addie know.” She cast a glance in Ellie’s direction. “You with Ellie?”
“Yes.” The sound of his answer gave her a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach.
Addie grinned. “Maybe you better buy that perfume after all, Ellie. Hell, take it on the house.”
“Watch your mouth, Addie,” Ellie said cheerfully, ignoring the fresh wave of color in her face. “Let Tanner buy his cigarettes, and we’ll head on out. Lonnie’s going to let us look at the old newspaper accounts.”