Winchester Christmas Wedding

by B. J Daniels

  Her gaze fell over him questioningly. She looked to the old crone who’d put him to work. “Enid?”

  Enid glanced over her shoulder. “Him? He was sent out from the employment agency to help with keeping you all fed before the wedding.”

  “TD,” he said introducing himself to the woman before he began to unload the boxes of groceries onto the pantry shelves.

  “TD?”

  “TD Waters.”

  She didn’t introduce herself, simply asked what they were having for lunch and left.

  “Who was that?” he asked after she was gone.

  “Virginia Winchester. Acts like she owns the place. She wishes,” Enid said, actually smiling. “She and her two brothers think they’re going to get this ranch. They don’t know their mother. Pepper’ll find a way to take it with her—that’s if she ever dies.”

  So Pepper Winchester owned the ranch, Virginia was her daughter and there were two sons. “So where is Mr. Winchester?” he asked, wondering if there was any truth to what he’d heard in town when he’d asked about the Winchesters.

  “Dead.” He felt her hard little eyes on him. “You must not be from around here.”

  “No,” he admitted. He continued unloading the groceries, wondering what he was going to do when the real help arrived.

  Although he was thankful he’d gotten his foot in the door, so to speak, he felt the clock ticking. He needed to find out who else was here on the ranch.

  “I would imagine you have a lot of guests staying here with the wedding and all,” he ventured.

  “Just the family, but believe me, that’s plenty.” Enid struggled to lift a tray filled with four cups and a carafe of coffee.

  “Here, let me take that for you.”

  For a moment he didn’t think she was going to relinquish the tray. Their eyes met, hers bright with determination and need for power.

  “They don’t expect you to be carting around a heavy tray like this all the time, do they?” he asked disapprovingly, hoping he’d hit on the right note.

  Enid let out a snort as she let him take the tray. “You have no idea what I have to put up with around here. I was here before Pepper showed up fresh from her honeymoon… I was just a kid myself when I started working for Call Winchester’s parents. This place feels more like mine than any of these so-called Winchesters’.”

  He could see she was about to take off on a tangent. “How many people do you have to wait on?” he asked, trying to get her back on track.

  “Well, before all this recent nonsense it was just me, my husband—bless his soul—and Mrs. Winchester.” She had stopped to cross herself and without wasting a breath continued. “Now with Pepper’s three grown children hanging around…” She let out a sigh. “The two sons aren’t so bad, but that daughter, Virginia…”

  “I’m sorry, is your husband deceased?”

  “You could say that.”

  “Have the others been here long?”

  “Just a few days this time.”

  “So you haven’t had any wedding guests yet,” he said.

  “Won’t be getting any either. The wedding is family only. That will be enough of a free-for-all. There’s a bunch of grandchildren coming with their significant others. We’ll be lucky if someone doesn’t get killed.” He started to ask if she was serious, but she noticed he was still holding the tray.

  She dropped a plate of stale-looking sugar cookies onto the tray. “Better get that to them. Virginia will be having a hissy fit. The parlor is straight down the hall. Second door on the right. Make sure you don’t spill anything.”

  “I’ll do my best.” He gave her a smile and said, “I’ll be right back to finish the pantry.”

  She glanced toward it and seemed surprised how many of the boxes he’d already unloaded. “Good. Don’t dally. We have a lot of work to do before lunch.”

  He headed down the hall, fairly certain that whoever had called him was still in this house.

  CIRCLING AROUND TO COME up behind the barn, Lizzy swung down from her horse, wrapped the reins around the corral rail and slipped through to the back of the bunkhouse.

  Standing in the cold shadow of the cabin, she listened. She hadn’t seen anyone around the barn, hadn’t heard anyone inside as she’d moved to the corner of the building. No sound from inside the bunkhouse, no other vehicle outside it other than the pickup TD Waters had been driving.

  She glanced toward the house, but saw no movement. Unless someone came out of the house, they wouldn’t see her slip inside the bunkhouse.

  Lizzy had been over here before and remembered the lodge as being much larger, much more ominous, when she and Anne and Janie had ridden over and spied on the Winchesters.

  Even then, apparently, she’d wanted to be a spy, she thought.

  The wing of the house that faced this direction was old and boarded up. Lizzy remembered sneaking in through the boards over one of the broken windows to look around. It had been nothing more than empty, dusty rooms, but she recalled the old root cellar at the back. They’d found a bunch of dust-covered jars of canned goods. Janie had wanted to try the contents.

  Lizzy shook her head at the memory.

  She studied the house a moment longer. Still no movement. Apparently Waters wasn’t coming back. At least not yet.

  Lizzy moved quickly, slipping around the front and through the small cabin door. She stopped just inside, closing the door behind her. For a moment, she just let her gaze take in the interior. There were bunk beds on the wall to both her left and right. Directly in front of her was the door into a large bathroom with several shower stalls.

  Waters had put his two bags on one of the bunks to the right.

  She checked the window, drawing back the curtain. Coast clear. Memorizing the exact placement of the bags, she went to the bunk bed and pulled the first bag over to her. With swift efficiency, she went through it, finding nothing but clothing.

  Replacing that bag, she searched the second one, listening in case she heard anyone approaching from outside. The second one held a rifle as well as several small pistols. TD had come prepared for war, apparently.

  Each was wrapped in an item of clothing. She put them back as they had been, noticing something else stuck in the side of the bag. It was flat and hard and about the size of a book, and wrapped in a soft, blue T-shirt. With interest, she carefully unwrapped it.

  To her surprise, it was a framed photograph of TD Waters as a boy. He was smiling at the camera, eyes dark, his Western hat pushed back to expose his young eager face. He was holding a rifle. At his feet was a large mongrel dog. The dog was looking up at the boy with such love…

  She turned the cheap frame over to see that the back of the photograph was partially exposed. She could see part of a date. Lifting the backing, she was able to read the rest: Johnny Ray Clarkson, summer 1991.

  Lizzy quickly wiped her fingerprints off the frame and carefully rewrapped the photograph just as it had been. She put everything back into the bag and replaced it too just as it had been. Straightening the bedspread, she frowned to herself.

  There was no doubt that the boy in the photograph was Waters. The date would have been about right. The boy in the snapshot looked to be about nine or ten. He could have been younger. Waters could have just been tall for his age. So why did it say on the back of the photo that his name was Johnny Ray Clarkson?

  And why was it that the framed photograph was the only personal item Waters had brought with him? Her boss had said that Waters had cleaned out his apartment as if he wasn’t returning.

  She thought of the innocence of youth she’d seen in the boy’s face—and compared it to the clearly dangerous man she’d seen behind the wheel of the pickup earlier and felt a twinge. Would she be like that in a few more years with the agency?

  Lizzy checked the window again, then, taking one last look at the room—especially the location of the bags on the bed—she slipped out of the bunkhouse and headed for her horse—and the McCormick Ranch
—anxious to call in her report.

  Chapter Four

  TD carried the tray down the hall. At the large living room he slowed. This place was impressive, with its gigantic rock fireplace and towering ceiling. A wide, log-railed stairway curved up to the second floor. The furnishings looked as old as the outside of the lodge, but even with his untrained eye, he could see that they had been expensive and were probably now antiques.

  From what little he’d been able to find out about the ranch at an internet café on the way to Montana, the ranch was huge and Pepper Winchester eccentric and apparently quite wealthy.

  He’d made a point of stopping at a café in Whitehorse. During his years at the agency, he’d found that people in small towns were more open than those in large cities. All he’d had to do was bring up the topic of the Winchesters with the young waitress when he’d asked directions to the ranch and she’d given him an earful.

  “Do you know Pepper Winchester?” the waitress had asked.

  “Not yet. Why?”

  “Well,” she said lowering her voice. “Hardly anyone has seen her in more than twenty-five years I guess. She locked herself up in that big old place years ago. I guess she only wears black.” The girl shivered. “You wouldn’t believe all the wild stories I’ve heard about her and that place.”

  “Like what?”

  “That she killed her husband.”

  “Really?”

  “Well, of course she said her housekeeper’s husband did it.” The girl had rolled her eyes. “You sure you want to go out there?” She’d laughed and gone off to fill a customer’s coffee cup.

  He had left the café even more curious about the Winchesters and whoever had called him from the ranch.

  Now, as he reached the open parlor door, he realized he was most anxious to finally meet the infamous Pepper Winchester.

  AS LIZZY RODE HER HORSE down into the McCormick ranch yard, she noticed the Whitehorse County Sheriff patrol car parked in front of the McCormick house.

  More trouble? She hoped not. One of the ranch hands offered to take care of her horse. Normally, she would insist on putting her own mount away, but she was worried about what was going on in the house.

  At the front door, she slipped in and stopped at the sound of voices.

  “I just need to ask you a few questions.” Lizzy didn’t recognize the female voice.

  “What is this about, Sheriff Winchester?” Janie’s tone was sarcastic.

  “I’m not answering any questions,” Anne snapped.

  “Let’s see what the sheriff has to say.” Janie again.

  “I need to ask you if you might have seen something the day Trace Winchester was murdered.”

  Anne let out a laugh. “You can’t be serious. Why would we know anything about that, Sheriff?”

  “Because you were at the Winchester Ranch that day hanging out with three of my cousins in that third-floor room that looks out on the ridge where Trace Winchester was murdered twenty-seven years ago.”

  “I was seven.” Anne laughed again. “You expect me to remember something from twenty-seven years ago?”

  “I remember,” Janie spoke up. “And I was only five.”

  Lizzy could well imagine the look Anne was giving her younger sister.

  “What do you remember?” the sheriff asked.

  “Party hats,” Janie said. “But other than that…”

  “The witnesses will swear that the two of you took turns looking through a pair of binoculars that morning,” the sheriff said.

  “Those witnesses are wrong,” Anne said.

  “Look, if there is any chance one of you might have witnessed the murder, I’d appreciate your help. I’m trying to find out who was on that ridge at the time of the murder.”

  “Sorry,” Janie said. “I don’t remember looking through any binoculars. If I had seen something, I might have mentioned it to my mother. You could ask her. Oh, that’s right, she’s in prison and it’s doubtful she’d want to talk to you, now isn’t it?”

  “I think you should leave, Sheriff,” Anne said.

  Silence, then, “If either of you should change your mind, give me a call.”

  Lizzy stepped back into the shadows as the sheriff left. As the front door slammed, she heard Anne explode.

  “Why did you tell her we were there?” Anne demanded.

  “Because we were and we both looked through the binoculars. We both saw something on that ridge.”

  “You’re wrong,” Anne said. “I didn’t see anything.”

  Janie laughed. “Well, maybe I saw something.” She had started toward the stairs when she spotted Lizzy. “Anne, your friend has been spying on us.” With that she turned and ran up the stairs.

  Lizzy stepped out of her hiding place, wishing she’d had the sense either to interrupt or return to the barn. “I didn’t want to interrupt.”

  Anne waved it off. “The Winchesters are always trying to pin something on us. Don’t pay any attention to Janie. If we’d seen someone get murdered, don’t you think we would have told someone?”

  Yes, Anne would have. But what would Janie have done? Lizzy wondered. She glanced toward the stairs and was startled to see Janie standing at the top landing watching them—and listening to what they were saying. If Janie’s smile had had an edge to it earlier, now it was lethal.

  “I’m sure you’re right,” Lizzy told Anne, even though she couldn’t help but wonder if one—or both—of the McCormick sisters had seen the murder.

  THE DOOR TO THE PARLOR was open, but TD still tapped on it to let the Winchesters inside know he was there.

  All four of them looked up, clearly surprised to see him. The one who’d stopped by the kitchen earlier, Virginia, spoke first.

  “Finally. Enid knows I have low blood sugar.” She glanced at her watch. “That’s probably why she sent you instead of bringing it herself.”

  “The tray was a little heavy for her,” he said.

  “Well, tell her to use the cart. She is so stubborn,” Virginia said, turning to the other woman in the room.

  “She really is way too old for this job. I don’t understand why you don’t get rid of her, Mother.”

  “I know you don’t.” It was the mother’s penetrating gaze TD felt on him as he stepped into the room. He guessed Pepper Winchester to be in her late sixties, possibly early seventies. She was a striking woman with salt-and-pepper dark hair plaited in a long braid that hung over one shoulder. She wore a Western shirt, jeans and moccasins—nothing black—and had an aura that clearly said she was the lady of the house.

  TD wondered what else the waitress in town had gotten wrong. He knew that along with good information, you often got a lot of rumor. But he could certainly see how this woman could keep the town talking about her. There was something about her that warned him to tread carefully.

  “You may put the tray down there,” Pepper said, motioning to the coffee table in front of the small rock fireplace.

  TD did as he was instructed, taking in the other two people in the room. Both men were dressed in Western attire. Both looked bored and sullen and barely seemed to notice him. Unlike their mother.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met,” Pepper said, those dark eyes boring into him.

  He turned his attention back to her as she extended her hand. Her grasp was firm, her palm warm and dry.

  “His name is TD,” Virginia said as she reached for one of the cookies on the tray.

  “TD Waters,” he said to Pepper. “I’m helping Enid.” All of which was true, even if he wasn’t the person she thought she’d hired.

  “Would you like me to pour?” he asked, motioning to the coffee tray. His gaze was still locked with Pepper Winchester’s. While what he’d heard about her had made her sound eccentric, he could see that the woman was sharp. There was intelligence and humor in her penetrating gaze also. He doubted anyone could put much over on her.

  “Thank you, but Virginia can pour,” Pepper said.


  “You have a beautiful place here, Mrs. Winchester. Let me know if you need anything else.”

  “Thank you.” She hadn’t taken her eyes off him since he’d come into the room. Did she know he wasn’t who he was pretending to be?

  “That will be all,” Virginia snapped between bites of cookie. “I’m so hungry even Enid’s horrible cookies taste good.”

  He saw Pepper’s jaw tense in irritation. He smiled at Pepper and gave a slight bow before leaving the room.

  “Where did Enid find him?” he heard Virginia say loud enough he couldn’t help but hear—even if he hadn’t stopped just outside the door.

  “Sometimes, Virginia,” Pepper said with obvious frustration.

  “I don’t mean to be irritable, Mother. It’s my low blood sugar and Enid’s horrible cooking and this weather. I need to get out of here for a while. I think I’ll go into town.”

  TD heard her start toward the door. He ducked into the alcove until she passed, then hurried back to the kitchen. If one of the people in that room had called him, it wasn’t because they knew him—or knew what he looked like. Nobody had reacted as if they recognized him.

  The only person who seemed the least bit interested in him had been Pepper Winchester.

  “WELL?” ENID DEMANDED when TD returned to the kitchen.

  “Nothing to report,” he said and went to work.

  Enid had a big pot of what appeared to be vegetable soup cooking on the stovetop. When he finished unloading the groceries in the pantry, he noticed she had just measured flour into a large bowl.

  “What’s next?” he asked. She looked surprised that he was finished and he realized he might be out of a job too quickly if he wasn’t careful. “What are you making?”

  “Pies. Going to take at least four the way Virginia eats.”

  “What kind of pies?”

  “They like apple, but I hate doing all that peeling.”

  “I don’t mind. If it’s okay with you,” he added.