by Janet Dailey
“Sally. Dear God, no.”
Chapter Twelve
Aheavy dusting of stars glittered in the night sky. No yard light gleamed near the house or outbuildings of the Circle Six to dim their brilliance. With the night’s mystery before him, Logan Echohawk tilted the rocker back and propped his booted feet on the porch railing. He raised a pipe to his mouth and took a puff on it, but it had gone out, and he had no inclination to relight it.
The broken country beyond the ranch yard was a tangle of shadows in varying degrees of darkness. A lazy breeze carried the scent of the land’s wildness to him, touching some answering spark within him.
As was his habit, he sat in the deep shadows of the long porch, well away from the light that poured through the open screen door. Light footsteps approached. A smile of welcome automatically lifted the corners of his mouth as he glanced sideways.
The screen door swung open under the push of Cat’s hand, its movement accompanied by a faint squeak of its hinges. “Quint asleep?” he guessed.
“Finally.” Cat walked straight to the railing and leaned both hands on it to gaze at the night. She rocked there a moment, then pushed away and wandered toward his chair. She was restless and tense. The feelings emanated from her in waves, disturbing the night’s peace.
Logan didn’t have to ask what was troubling her. He already knew it was Jessy. Cat had barely given him a chance to walk through the door that evening before she’d launched into an account of all that had transpired.
“Have you decided what you’re going to do yet?” He knew she wanted to talk about it, so he gave her the opening.
“No.” Her voice was riddled with impatience and confusion. “I hate thinking these things about Jessy.” She walked back to the railing and braced her hands on it again. “But there is something wrong over there, Logan. I can feel it.”
“It’s one thing to feel something in your gut, and another thing to prove it.” He had relied on his own instincts too many times to discount hers. At the same time he knew instinct wasn’t enough, especially not in this case.
Cat swung around to face him, tension in every line of her body. “I wish you had been there today. At first, when I confronted her about leasing the feedlot, Jessy seemed genuinely surprised and contrite that she hadn’t discussed it with me first. I was ready to believe her. I still thought it was wrong, but I believed she had acted out of what she perceived was best. But the minute I challenged her about the Smiths, she changed. I don’t know how to explain it exactly, but”—Cat paused to search for the words—“something about her hardened. It was as if she suddenly threw up a wall.”
“Tara might have had something to do with that,” Logan pointed out.
“I know,” she admitted and released a heavy sigh. “Part of me wishes Tara hadn’t been there. But if she hadn’t, then I might never have known that Ty never mentioned any family named Smith while they were married. Yet Jessy keeps insisting they were close friends. It doesn’t make sense.”
“It could be the age difference. Maybe it was Chase they were close to,” Logan suggested.
Cat pivoted away from the railing to face him. “But the son is about the same age as Ty would be. You should have seen him,” she recalled with disgust. “It was all ma’am this and ma’am that, but there was something about his attitude that I didn’t like. The whole time I had the feeling that he knew something I didn’t. But Jessy refuses to hear one word against him.”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” Logan replied in a reasonable voice. “Jessy is the type of person who would stand by her friends.”
“Still . . .” Cat let the sentence trail off unfinished and folded her arms tightly across her middle.
The harsh jangle of the telephone came from inside the house. Logan pulled his feet off the railing and rocked out of the chair. “I’ll get it,” he said. “At this hour of the night, it’s bound to be for me.”
When he reached the door, Cat remembered. “It could be Tara. She said she would call to give me the name and phone number of a lawyer she thinks I should consult.”
“Do you want to talk to her?” Logan asked as the phone rang again.
Cat shook her head. “Tell her I’m tied up and ask her to give it to you.”
“No problem.” He stepped into the house and eased the screen door shut behind him.
Alone on the long porch of their single-story ranch house, Cat was soon distracted by her own troubled thoughts. Long ago, she had found that there was little to be learned from listening to only Logan’s side of a telephone conversation.
Her glance skimmed him when he rejoined her on the porch. “Was it dispatch?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Don’t tell me you have to go,” she murmured, wavering between disappointment and concern for his safety.
“No. This time it was more or less a courtesy call.” The steadiness of his gray eyes seemed to warn her to be ready for some unpleasant news. “Jenna thought she should let us know that they received a call from the Triple C. Sally Brogan passed away a short time ago.”
Shock held Cat motionless for a long moment. “She’s been so distraught ever since Dad was killed. You only had to look at her to see how hard she was taking it, but I never—” She broke off the sentence with a dazed shake of her head and abruptly moved toward the door. “We need to go over there.”
Logan stepped into her path. “There is nothing that can be done now. Besides, it would mean waking up Quint. He had a hard enough time dealing with your father’s death. He doesn’t need to be exposed to this.”
“I didn’t think about Quint,” Cat admitted. “It wouldn’t be the best place for him. You stay here with him and I’ll go by myself.”
“Why?” His challenge was quiet but firm. “What would you accomplish?”
“It isn’t a question of accomplishing anything, Logan. It’s my place to be there, especially now that Dad is gone. It’s simply something that is expected of me,” Cat explained, a flash of determination in her eyes.
“Maybe it is,” Logan conceded. “But given your present differences with Jessy, we both know that if you go there now, you would end up quarreling with Jessy before the night was over. And it wouldn’t be the time or the place for that.”
She knew he was right, and it made her furious. “All right, then, you go,” she snapped in ill temper. “It certainly won’t look right if neither one of us shows up, especially when they learn we were notified of her passing. And you can bet word will get around that I knew and didn’t care enough to show up. I won’t have people saying that about me. Maybe they will understand that I had to stay here with Quint—although I’m sure they will have something to say about that, too.”
Logan chuckled softly and drew her rigid body into his arms. “No wonder Jessy clammed up on you today. Sometimes silence is the best way to handle a spitfire when she’s on a tear.”
“Sometimes I just can’t help it,” Cat stated, her voice tight with impatience. “I worked hard to earn the respect of everybody on the Triple C. I hate the thought they might think less of me for not being there tonight.”
“Personally I don’t give a damn what they think. As far as I’m concerned, our son is more important than their good opinions.”
The tension flowed out of her. Smiling, she relaxed against his chest. “That is the absolute truth. Thank you for reminding me.”
She tipped her head back and Logan obligingly bent his down to kiss the softness of her curved lips. The warmth of his kiss reminded her that the only home she would ever truly care about was right here in his arms.
“Still want me to go?” he teased and nuzzled the corner of her mouth.
“Not really,” Cat admitted. “But I still think one of us should be there. I mean, it is Sally. I’ve known her my entire life.”
This time Logan didn’t argue.
With his mind blank of conscious thought, Laredo stared at the ranch road ahead of him. The pickup’s headlight
beams revealed its approaching dips and swells before he reached them. The overhead sign that marked the Triple C’s east entrance made a black slash against the night sky.
Slowing the truck to make the turn onto the highway, Laredo automatically scanned the highway and immediately spotted the flashing blue-and-white lights to the north. The vehicle’s boxy silhouette made it instantly recognizable as an ambulance. Laredo braked the pickup to a stop at the intersection and waited for the ambulance to pass. Instead it slowed and made the swing into the ranch entrance.
Surprise held him motionless for a split second. He hesitated a moment longer, then made a tire-spinning U-turn and took off after it. There were a dozen possible explanations for an ambulance to be summoned at this hour of the night, everything from an illness of one of the workers to an accident on one of the ranch roads. But there was always the possibility Chase’s would-be killer had shifted his focus to Jessy, and Laredo knew he wouldn’t have any peace of mind until he assured himself that Jessy was all right.
It was a long forty miles back to the Triple C headquarters. When he pulled into the ranch yard behind the ambulance, lights blazed from the first-floor windows of The Homestead. Three vehicles were parked in front of it, vehicles that weren’t there when Laredo left over an hour ago.
The ambulance pulled up to the veranda steps and stopped. Laredo parked his pickup next to the house, partially hidden in the shadows and out of the way.
Wasting no time, he piled out of the cab and headed straight for the veranda. By the time he reached the steps, the paramedics were letting themselves in the front door.
Laredo followed them inside, his own tension mounting at their lack of haste. Quick to note that all the activity seemed to be centered in the living room, he headed in that direction, unconsciously scenting the air for that distinctively tinny odor of blood.
Before he reached the living room, he was stopped in the wide hall by a short, squatly built man somewhere in his sixties. “Are you with the ambulance?” he asked with wary skepticism.
“No, I—” Laredo caught a glimpse of Jessy in the living room, alive and unhurt. He felt an instant loosening of his muscles. “I was checking to make sure Jessy was okay. What happened?”
But the man didn’t immediately answer. “Who are you?”
His attitude was one of aloof distrust toward a man he regarded as an outsider. Before Laredo could answer, Jessy noticed him and quickly excused herself, leaving an older woman to talk to the paramedics.
“It’s all right, Dad,” she said to the man planted in Laredo’s path. “I know him. It’s the new man I hired to work the feedlot, Laredo Smith.” Her glance bounced off Laredo. “I don’t believe you’ve met my father, Stumpy Niles.”
“Mr. Niles.” Laredo nodded in acknowledgement, but no hand was thrust forward for him to shake. His only response was a brief bob of the head and a level stare that seemed to demand an explanation. “I passed the ambulance and saw it was headed this way,” Laredo began, forced to watch his words. “Naturally I started wondering what the problem was.”
Jessy came to his rescue. “It was good of you to stop in case you could be of help.”
“I don’t mean to be nosy, but what happened?” Laredo worded the question for her father’s benefit.
“It’s our housekeeper, Sally Brogan. I went out for a short walk before turning in.” This time Jessy looked him square in the eye, providing him with the excuse she had used to cover her absence from the house. “When I came back, I found her. She must have had a heart attack. I called Amy Trumbo right away. She’s a nurse,” she added in quick explanation. “We tried, but—we couldn’t revive her.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, and meant it.
“We all are,” she said and shrugged. “But there really isn’t anything we can do now except wait for the coroner to arrive.”
“I can see that.” Laredo took the hint. “I guess I’ll be going then.”
When he turned to leave, Jessy moved to his side and fell in step with him. “Thanks again for stopping,” she said, loud enough for her father to hear.
“Thanks aren’t necessary.”
“Probably not,” she agreed. When they reached the front entry, she pushed Laredo out the door and stepped out after him, darting a furtive and slightly anxious look behind her. “Be sure to tell Chase about Sally,” she said in a hurried undertone. “He probably doesn’t remember, but Sally’s been in love with him for years, even before he and Maggie were married.”
“Was he fond of her?” Laredo asked curiously.
“Fond is probably the right word. I don’t think Chase ever felt anything more than that for her,” Jessy admitted, turning thoughtful. “After Maggie died, I really thought the day would come when he would turn to Sally. But he never did. Instead Sally grieved herself to death over him. Do you see the irony in that? She died without ever finding out he is still alive.”
It wasn’t a question that required a verbal answer, and Laredo didn’t make one. There was little in Jessy’s expression that revealed the sorrow and regret he sensed in her. But he understood the stoicism she used to contain her feelings. She saw nothing to be gained from giving rise to them.
“I’ll make sure he knows about Sally,” he promised and turned as a set of headlight beams sliced an arc across the ranch yard, taking aim on The Homestead.
Jessy noticed them as well and swore softly, “Damn. It’s Logan. You had better go. Quick. Cat is bound to have said something to him about you.”
But Laredo knew that undue haste was the surest way to arouse a lawman’s suspicions. That knowledge prompted him to first touch his hat to Jessy and amble across the veranda to the steps. Halfway down them, he met Echohawk on his way up.
“Evenin’,” Laredo nodded to him as if he had nothing in the world to hide. But he felt the touch of those gray eyes on his back when he passed him.
Projecting every ounce of calm she could muster, Jessy waited for Logan to reach her. “I guess you heard about Sally,” she said in lieu of a greeting.
“Jenna called me at the ranch,” he said with a nod, then glanced in Laredo’s direction as he disappeared around the side of the house. “Is that the new man Cat was telling me about?”
“Laredo Smith, yes,” Jessy confirmed. She released an audible sigh. “I guess I don’t have to ask what Cat said about him.”
“I guess you don’t.” There was something gentle about the brief curve to his mouth. “I didn’t expect to see him here tonight.” Logan also hadn’t expected to see the bulge in the cowboy’s boot when he went down the steps.
“An ambulance parked in front of The Homestead tends to attract attention,” Jessy replied. “I would have thought less of him if he hadn’t stopped to find out what was wrong.”
“You’re right, of course,” Logan acknowledged.
“Does Cat know about Sally?”
He nodded. “She wanted to come, but Quint was already in bed asleep.”
“It’s just as well. There wouldn’t have been anything she could do.”
“That’s what I told her.” The growl of the pickup’s engine turning over drew Logan’s attention to the side of the house. It stayed there to watch Laredo’s pickup back into the ranch yard. When Jessy turned to go back inside, Logan asked, “Does he always carry a hideaway?”
Jessy swung back, frowning in genuine puzzlement. “A what?”
“A hideaway,” Logan repeated the term, then clarified, “That’s another word for a concealed weapon.”
“What are you talking about?” She let her frown deepen and mask the sudden shaft of unease.
“I noticed the thickness in his right boot when he was coming down the steps. I worked with a Texan once who always carried a hideaway in an ankle holster. His boot looked just like that. It’s something you remember if you want to stay alive in my business.” His tone had an offhand quality to it, but Jessy wasn’t fooled by its casualness. “I hope he has a license to carry that.”
She feigned an indifferent shrug. “You should have asked him.”
“I’m here as family tonight. But there will be another time.” Logan copied her shrug while his gray eyes continued to study her with close attention. “Just how well do you know him, Jessy?”
“Don’t you start on me about him, Logan,” she said in exasperation. “Not tonight. I received enough grief about Laredo from Cat. I don’t need more right now.”
“She told me this Laredo character was a touchy subject,” he remarked with seeming idleness.
But it put Jessy on guard. “Logan, do you have any idea how difficult it is to defend your friends when the accusations against them have no basis in fact? It’s impossible. And Tara didn’t help the situation—as usual.”
“An excellent point.” A wry smile tugged at a corner of his mouth. “Tara would love to see you fail. Mostly because she envies you and wishes she were in your shoes.”
“Tara in charge of the Triple C—now that is a scary thought,” Jessy declared with feeling.
The front door opened behind her. “Jessy, what on earth are you doing out here?” At the familiar sound of her mother’s voice, Jessy turned to face the slender woman she favored. “Logan,” Judy Niles said in surprise when she finally noticed him. “I didn’t know you were here.”
“I just drove up a couple minutes ago.”
“Isn’t it just terrible about Sally?” Judy Niles declared, doing everything but clicking her tongue. “It seems like it’s just one tragedy after another. My mother always told me death comes in threes. I can’t help but wonder who might be next.”
“That is nothing but an old wives’ tale, Mom.”
“I know. Still . . .” she murmured, unconvinced, then appeared to realize she was standing with the door open. “Good heavens, what is the matter with me? Come inside, you two.” She stepped back to admit them and kept talking. “Amy and I were just discussing whether Sally should be buried next to her late husband. What’s your opinion, Jessy? Do you think it would be appropriate?”