"Look, could you just speed it up?" Kat stuck her hands in her pockets and crossed her ankles, praying for him to hurry. While he tightened the cable, she said, "I just had the battery changed at one of those franchise places. It's hard to find good help in the city."
He stopped working the wrench. "Maybe if you didn't have this gas-guzzler, you could afford to take your car to a real mechanic."
Though he grinned with the remark, the muscles in Kat's jaw tensed. She pointed her thumb in the direction of his pickup. "And that beat-up piece of junk doesn't pollute the air?"
"Hey, now you're insulting an esteemed member of my family." He gave the wrench one last twist and tugged it off. "Why don't you give it a try?"
She stomped around him, slid into the seat of her SUV, and cranked the key. The engine roared to life.
He locked the hood in place, strolled over, and leaned down so he could look at her with the most unusual, Caribbean blue eyes she'd ever seen, almost aqua.
If he and his dog hadn't been so obnoxious, she would have been interested. No. She wasn't going down that path. Good thing the dog wasn't the only obnoxious one. She rolled down her window to see what he wanted.
"Can I help you with anything else? Are you going to be in Rosswood a while, or just passing through? You're Brianna's sister, aren't you? I'm Chance Eliason."
She didn't have time for this. "Thanks for your help, but I don't need anything else from you."
"You sure?" He winked and made a clucking sound with his tongue.
With only a curt smile, she hoped to render her disgust for his hackneyed male response. He wasn't budging and seemed to want to pass the time, time her bladder wouldn't permit. "I really have to go, but thanks again for your help." To give him a strong hint, she edged the car forward. When he pitched backward out of the way, she stepped on the gas. Now to a restroom.
She checked the rearview mirror and noticed he was standing right where she'd left him, watching her drive off. An appealing man, but she had no real interest. The quicker she disposed of Brianna's property, the sooner she could get back to Seattle to tend to her future: fixing up her house to sell and accumulating enough money to retire in Hawaii. What was not on the horizon was getting involved with any man, especially a two-bit cowboy.
CHAPTER 3
Chance stared at the SUV speeding away from him and shook his head in amazement. Kat Summers had come to town. The woman was definitely uptight and feisty. When Brianna had showed him Kat's picture, she'd warned him.
He gave Zeke a pat, but before he got into the cab, he inspected the land across the road and the brand new barbed wire fence. Anger rose in him like a choking weed. A man like Wheeler, who would erect a daunting fence like that, was one more reason to keep the resort out of Rosswood.
Chance drove a short distance and turned right onto the dirt road that led to his ranch house. His forty acres provided an adequate sanctuary for his newfound family: twenty-five rescued burros. As his truck neared the house, the braying started up, sounding like a symphony of incompatible trumpets. He swerved right and pulled up to the barn.
A short, weathered man with a round face and straw-like hair set a bucket by the fence and strolled up to Chance. "You look like you got tangled up with a mountain lion."
Chance did his best to soften his expression. "Rusty, you're not that far off. Brianna's sister's in town."
"She a looker, like Brianna?"
"Yeah, she's a looker all right. She's as pretty as a cactus in springtime, complete with spines."
"That bad, huh?"
"Let's just say I'd rather wrestle a mountain lion."
Zeke paced the truck bed, whining, until Chance unhooked the tailgate. The dog flew off the truck, circled Chance's hired hand, and went in search of a post to pee on.
Several burros in various shades of brown, gray, and black crowded the wooden fence to get close to Chance. The wind picked up strength, and he grasped the top of his hat. He nodded toward a lone white burro lingering by a scrub oak, well away from the herd. "How's Banjo doing? Is she letting you anywhere near her?"
"I think it'll be a while before that old girl gets over the miserable treatment she suffered," Rusty said. "It's a downright shame what some of those animals went through."
"We might have to meet her halfway. If that's the best we can do, so be it. At least she can live out the rest of her life in peace." Chance gave the closest burro a friendly pat. "I've got a quick call to make, and then I'm heading into town to pick up a few things. I might stop off at Bertie's. I won't be gone too long."
"Sure thing, boss."
Chance started off toward the house with Zeke galloping after him. Kat slipped into his thoughts again, and he wondered how she and good-natured Brianna could have come from the same stock. If he ever ran into Kat again, he'd dare himself to ask.
CHAPTER 4
In the last six months, Rosswood hadn't changed. It probably hadn't changed in a hundred years. Kat slowed through the sleepy little town that looked as if its wooden sidewalks and fake storefronts had been lifted out of the Old West and set down in the foothills of the Cascade Mountains. She could almost picture a gunslinger riding his horse through the center of town, which, she gauged, couldn't have been more than four blocks long, if that.
Nowadays Rosswood was nothing more than a backdrop for summer campers and tourists and in the autumn months hunters hoping to nail a deer.
Small town cops were notorious for nabbing out-of-towners. Even though it was painful for Kat, she kept her car at a reasonable speed.
Hunger had driven her to town before going to Brianna's house. She could find a restroom there. On the left side of the street, she noticed a café, a market, and a beauty shop, and on the opposite side an office, a movie theater, and Bertie's Grill. No McDonalds or Starbucks in this God-forsaken place. Up ahead, separate from the tacked-on storefronts, was the post office. From her previous visit, she knew the sheriff's office and an auto repair shop were up one of the side streets.
Kat could never understand why her sister chose to live in such a backward community. City life was Kat's style. She promised herself she would tend to business as quickly as possible, and if she had the time she would fly to Maui for a short vacation before returning to the toil of work.
She nosed her SUV into an angled parking spot in front of Bertie's Grill. She locked the car doors, as she would have done in any city, never mind the fact that this town only boasted a total of 756 residents according to its "Welcome to Rosswood" sign. One could never be too safe.
She dashed into Bertie's, more than happy she'd made it in time, and scanned the back wall. The lighting was dim, but once she'd homed in on the green restroom sign, everything else in the room faded.
The place could have been empty for all she knew as she hurried around chairs and past a pool table, nearly getting poked in the arm by a backward-butting cue stick. She pushed through the restroom door.
When she emerged, relieved and relaxed, all the sights and sounds of the eating establishment flooded her senses. She'd been so focused on her way in she hadn't noticed the country sounds coming from the jukebox, the clink and clatter of plates and silverware, and the aroma of fried onions, burgers, and beer. The room itself was half-filled with customers, mostly men.
As she strode toward the bar, the noise level plunged; all chatter stopped, except for a few whispers and the jukebox's country whine. Kat ignored the stares and took a seat at the far end of the bar away from three men grouped together and looking her way.
A husky woman with short, frizzy hair and a wide smile across wrinkling cheeks set a glass in front of one of the men and strolled toward Kat. She had on a stained apron over a plaid shirt and blue jeans. With a wet cloth, she swiped the wooden surface. "What can I get you?" she asked in a whiskeyed voice.
"A deluxe burger, fries, and an Anchor Hawking." Why not indulge?
"You must be from the city. All we got here is the usual, nothing fancy."
"Well, let's see." Kat leaned sideways to view the beer on tap. "I'll just have ice water."
"You look familiar." The woman squinted, studying Kat's face. "Where have I seen you before?"
"I was here six months ago taking care of family business. My sister lived here."
"Yeah, yeah, I got it. I remember. You're Brianna's sister. Umm . . ." She brandished her index finger at Kat.
"Kat Summers."
"Yeah, that's it. I saw a photo of you. Kat, now that's an odd sort of name."
"Short for Kathleen." She swiveled to peer around the room and back to the bar. "I suppose Brianna came in here a lot."
"She sure did. She worked here part time until she, you know."
"She worked here? She never mentioned it." She hadn't mentioned it the last time they talked, but they rarely talked.
"Sure did. Great kid, too. Hard worker. Although she had her down times. That was a while back though. She'd been doing real good. By the way, my name's Bertie. I own this joint." She wiped her hand on her apron and offered it to Kat.
Kat promptly shook hands, but something confused her. No time like the present to start asking questions. "Did you say Brianna was doing better? What did you mean by that?"
"Just a sec." Bertie filled Kat's water glass and exited into the kitchen. After belting out the lunch order, she returned through the swinging doors, followed by a man about Brianna's age, thirty-five, who took her place behind the counter. Then she came around to where Kat was, plunked down on a neighboring stool, and looked Kat over. "You're one of those lucky types. Beer, fries, and a burger? If I gorged on that in one sitting, I'd balloon up like a tent, never mind having a good case of heartburn."
This woman was rough around the edges, but in a strange way she reminded Kat of Maggie. "What were you saying about Brianna?"
"Oh, yeah. Where was I?"
"You said Brianna was doing better. That was my impression."
"Like I said, she had some rough times, but the year before she died, she seemed to have her feet on the ground. She'd come in here smiling nearly every day."
"Really. What turned her around? Do you know?"
"Look, I never meddled in her personal life. She never confided in me that way. Kept those things to herself, although there were stories going around. One day she just seemed happier. Might have had something to do with Chance."
"Chance Eliason? What does he have to do with anything?"
"You know him?"
"I just met him coming into town. What did he have to do with Brianna?"
"He's a neighbor of hers, and all I know is she started working for him, helping him on that ranch of his. That's all she told me, but she seemed happy for it."
"Earlier you mentioned something about stories. What sort of stories were going around about her?"
Bertie retreated into thought for a moment and gazed at Kat with a stern look. "I don't believe in spreading rumors. You know, I hear a lot of stuff in a place like this, but most of it is just tongues wagging. I've learned to turn a deaf ear to that sort of thing. I'd rather not indulge." She slid off the stool. "I've got work to do. You staying in Rosswood for a while?"
"For a while. Is there a B&B around here, or a hotel?"
"That's like your fancy beer. Nothing like that near town. Closest motel is about thirty miles out, toward Benton, called The Sleeping Inn." She edged away from Kat. "We got a café across the street, but I hope to see you in here again." She rounded the bar past the man closest to Kat and slapped a hand on his shoulder. "Your order's coming right up."
As Bertie aimed for the kitchen, the waiter squeezed past her, set a sack in front of one of the men, and continued with Kat's order. The man with the sack left the Grill, but one of the other two men kept staring at Kat.
When the waiter set Kat's plate in front of her, she changed her mind and asked to have her lunch boxed up. Her comfort level was dropping by the second. She purchased her lunch and a bottle of spring water and walked out into the sunshine.
The light was a blinding contrast to the inside of the Grill. While turning left, but squinting in the opposite direction, she collided with a hard body, her sack tumbling to the ground. Flustered, she bent to pick it up at the same time as the man, and the rim of his hat hit her in the middle of her forehead, knocking her off balance. He grabbed her elbow to steady her. As she righted herself, she stared into the eyes of Chance Eliason.
"You." Faced with his sultry smile, she instantly knew how Brianna could have been taken in by him. She yanked her arm free.
Still smiling, he handed her the sack. "Maybe you ought to pay more attention to where you're going."
"Maybe I could say the same to you. If you'll excuse me, my lunch is getting cold." She walked off in a huff and unlocked the car door.
"Can I buy you a beer or a cup of coffee?"
"No, thanks."
He stood in front of Bertie's, watching her drive away, a stunning picture of a man who seemed way out of place in this Podunk town. She placed him in the love-'em-and-leave-'em category, wondering if he was the cause of her sister's problems, wondering if Bertie was alluding to Brianna having an affair with him.
Kat pulled up to the post office, a tiny brick building with an American flag fluttering in the breeze. While she ate her lunch in the SUV, her mind wandered. If Chance and Brianna were having an affair, maybe she fell for him like she was prone to do. And maybe he was all wrong for her, like most of the men she dated. Maybe she fell hard, and he promised to marry her, but instead he dumped her, and that was why she'd committed suicide. That could account for the abrupt turnaround for an unstable person like Brianna--happy one day, the next day feeling horribly depressed.
The more Kat thought about it, the more her theory seemed real to her. Before leaving Rosswood, she'd have it out with this Chance Eliason.
Finishing up, she nibbled on the remaining fries and tossed the rest in the lunch sack. She got out and locked her car, hurried up the post office steps, and entered the cramped one-room structure. The air was thick with musty paper smells, along with a strong hint of body odor.
A woman with her back to Kat twisted enough for a passing glance and went back to talking to the clerk behind the counter. Kat recognized him as the man with the unruly red hair seated closest to her at Bertie's.
A real charmer, he complimented the woman on her appearance. Yet, the woman was clearly overweight, her hair stringy, her clothes baggy and unflattering. He went on to ask her about her husband's gout. She leaned toward him, purposely excluding Kat, and didn't seem to be in a hurry.
To pass the time, Kat turned her attention to the wall across from the postal boxes to the left of the counter. On a bulletin board were ads for a stationary bicycle, for babysitting at reasonable rates, for free kittens, and one for selling a used pickup.
The last ad gave Kat an idea. She had to get rid of Brianna's car. Although it was an old beater with a sordid past, maybe someone would buy it for parts.
She dug through her purse for a notepad and wrote up a quickie ad: Old Car. Will sell for parts. U-haul. She added her cell phone number underneath and tacked up the ad with a stray pushpin. The thought occurred to her that displaying ads on federal property was probably illegal. But then this was out-of-the-way Rosswood.
After the woman left, Kat took her place at the counter, hoping to state her needs and get out. "My name is Kat Summers."
The man set an envelope aside. "I know who you are. I saw you at Bertie's. You're Brianna's sister." His voice was soft and syrupy. "I saw you when you came through town before. I never got to say how sorry I was about Brianna." For a moment his eyes rolled toward the ceiling as if he were capturing an old memory. "That girl lit up this town. We all miss her."
"Thanks for sharing that." In reality Kat wished this meddlesome man would can the sentimentality. She wanted to stay in control; no more tears, especially now. "I'm going to be here a while and wanted to notify you in case anything comes for me.
I have business in Seattle, and whatever is mailed or faxed here might be important."
"I'll sure do that, Ms. Summers."
"Kat."
"Kaaat," he said, lengthening the vowel sound. "What a delightful name." He tittered. "Meow."
Kat smiled, indulgently waiting for him to stop giggling. "When I was here last, I stopped in and talked to a woman about sending me Brianna's mail. Was there anything that didn't get sent that I could pick up now?"
At the table behind him, he thumbed through a stack of folders and found one, likely with Brianna's name on it. "Nothing here but the usual junk mail. Do you want it, Kaaat?" When she shook her head, he came up front.
"You know," he continued, "she used to come in here almost every day. She'd get a lot of magazines. She told me someday she'd be a famous author, and I'd want her autograph. We used to laugh about that. She'd come in with the manila envelopes to be mailed to editors and the like, and she'd make jokes about sending out another story, so she could add to her pile of rejection letters." He made a tsking sound. "She used to get quite a bit of mail from publishers, but after a while she stopped sending so many out."
Kat wished to end the conversation, but obviously the man liked to talk. "Well, if anything important does come for her, will you put it with my mail?"
"Oh yes, I'll gladly put it with yours."
"Fine."
"I make deliveries late in the afternoon or whenever it's convenient. My wife, the woman you talked to last time, minds the shop, so to speak. If you get any mail, I can deliver it."
"I don't know where I'm staying right now. I'll just pick it up here."
"Whatever you like, Kaaat."
Kat was relieved to get out into the fresh air again. When she'd decided to come to Rosswood, she hadn't taken into account how difficult it would be to speak to strangers about Brianna. Those painful feelings were surfacing again, along with second thoughts about coming here. Kat wanted to bolt. But she couldn't. She had business to do, Brianna's business.
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