by Ginna Gray
"Ah, sí. Come, with me, señor."
As the pair headed for the back of the house, Willa risked another glance at Zach. Those cool green eyes still bore into her.
"I didn't do it," she insisted through clenched teeth. He continued to stare at her, so long she began to think he wasn't going to speak to her at all. Finally he nodded. "Okay. If you say so. But if you didn't, who did?"
* * *
Chapter 4
« ^ »
Over the next few days the question seemed to hang in the air. Unanswered. Silently accusing.
Zach and the others said they believed her, but Willa knew that they were merely withholding judgment. She could see it in their eyes, hear it in their carefully neutral tones.
Matt was barely civil, and even gregarious J.T. had become reserved toward her. The women were polite, but they'd dropped all previous attempts at friendliness.
"Well, fine. Let them believe whatever they want. What do I care, anyway?" Willa muttered to the blazing sunset. Her horse snorted and bobbed her head, as though in complete agreement.
Willa sat slumped in the saddle, her lower body moving to the rhythm of Bertha's plodding walk. They had been riding fence line all day, and both she and the horse were bone-tired.
Those people were nothing to her, she told herself adamantly. Just a bunch of greedy city slickers and a pack of rowdy kids. Fact was, she didn't like them any more than they liked her. Not any of them.
No matter how many times she said it, however, the truth was, like them or not, it hurt that anyone could think she was capable of such a vile act. Willa felt maligned, and even after five days her pride still smarted from the insult, which kept her temper simmering.
Most of the blame she put squarely on Zach. He was supposed to be the boss, wasn't he? The leader? If he truly believed her, he could have convinced the others.
She avoided them all whenever possible, especially Zach. If he gave her a choice, each morning she opted to tackle jobs that took her as far from where he was going to be as she could get. Those times when she was forced to endure his company she tried to ignore him, but so far she had not succeeded even once.
Despite her best intentions she always ended up taking verbal potshots at Zach. She criticized every decision he made, everything he did, the way he did it and when he did it, even when she knew he was right. She constantly compared his methods to Seamus's and sneered at any changes Zach implemented.
It was foolish of her and nonproductive, and she knew it, but she could not seem to restrain herself. Merely being around the man made her hackles rise and her skin tingle as though it were covered in a prickly rash.
For his part, Zach never flared back at her, no matter how much she picked at him or how cutting her comments, and that was the most irritating thing of all. He would simply give her one of those long, unreadable looks and go about his business, as though she were no more than a pesky mosquito buzzing around.
"Insufferable jerk," she swore. "The man either has a thick hide or the patience of Job. Or he's dumber than dirt."
Willa sighed. Much as she'd like to believe the latter, she knew it wasn't true. After being around him only a few days, it was obvious that Zach was an intelligent, logical man.
Everything was changing, Willa thought morosely. And she was powerless to do anything about it.
She looked around at the glorious sunset backlighting the mountains and streaking the sky with reds and purples and golds, and she sighed again. The only thing that remained the same was the land.
Her previously quiet home was now a beehive of activity and noise, and she resented it. Never mind that she'd always hated the tomblike quiet and emptiness of the huge house in the past, or that she'd often longed for some female companionship, women her own age with whom she could talk. She hadn't chosen to share her home or the ranch or her life with these people. They had been thrust upon her.
Worst of all, she was turning into a shrew, and she hated that.
What in heaven's name was the matter with her? It was true, she'd never been a pushover. From an early age she'd learned to stand her ground, even if it meant locking horns with Seamus. If she hadn't he would have run roughshod over her. Even so, contrariness and bad temper had never been part of her basic makeup.
Inevitably after every attack on Zach, Willa felt small and ashamed – but she simply couldn't stop herself from lashing out at him. Or bring herself to apologize.
Deep down, though she didn't like to think about it, Willa knew that, at least in part, her reaction to Zach sprang from fear that Lennie was right about Seamus scheming to get her and Zach together. No way was she going to let that happen.
There was more behind her prickliness than just self-protection, though. It was also a reaction to Zach usurping her position at the ranch.
She had expected at least some initial resistance from the hands, but none had materialized. It was painful and demoralizing to stand back and watch how easily Zach stepped into Seamus's boots. All the men, including the old-timers she had known all of her life, not only accepted him as their boss, they looked up to him and obeyed his orders over hers. Even Pete.
Maria had accepted the newcomers totally, as well. She adored the children and was devoted to Kate and Maude Ann and thought the three men were "Muy macho."
Willa felt betrayed on all sides, unfairly accused and more alone than ever. Her response was to lash out – and to attack whatever job that needed doing with a vengeance. Driven by hurt feelings, simmering temper and offended honor, she worked herself into a state of near exhaustion every day.
The sun went down in a blaze of glory as Willa dismounted and led Bertha into the barn. Zach's horse was in his stall, contentedly munching grain, and the rest of the horses were in the corrals. As usual, she was the last one to come straggling in. She was probably late for dinner again and in for a lecture from Maria.
Willa unsaddled the mare, gave her fresh food and water and a cursory rubdown. "I'll be back later, girl, and give you a good currying. I promise," she said, and hurried toward the house.
To her surprise and delight, Edward Manning sat at the kitchen table drinking coffee with Zach. Maude Ann and Kate were helping Maria prepare dinner, and from the den came the sounds of the television and children squabbling.
Like the gentleman he was, Edward rose as soon as he spotted her. "Ah, Willie. There you are."
"Edward, it's so good to see you." She flashed him a beaming smile and rushed forward with her arms outstretched.
He was taken aback by her enthusiastic greeting, which didn't surprise her. They were casual friends and had never been particularly close. However, since the funeral she'd been feeling woefully outnumbered, and she was so happy to see a friendly face she couldn't restrain herself.
With his usual aplomb, Edward recovered quickly and accepted her hug, though he couldn't quite suppress a little grimace of distaste when he got a whiff of the "horsey" smell that clung to her.
As Willa stepped back from Edward's embrace they heard groaning and the sound of footsteps. Walking with a painfully slow, slightly bow-legged gait, J.T. and Matt entered the kitchen from the main hall. Every step produced a groan and a grimace of pain from both men.
When he spotted their guest, J.T. gritted his teeth and stretched his lips in a strained smile. "Hey, Edward, good to see you."
Matt just nodded.
Grinning, Willa watched them hobble to the table. Matt carefully lowered himself into a chair, groaning louder as his sore backside came into contact with the seat.
"Aren't you going to have a seat, J.T.?" she asked, making no effort to hide her amusement.
"I'll stand, thanks." He cautiously leaned a shoulder against the wall, making certain his rear end did not come into contact. "In fact, I may never sit again."
"Matt and J.T. have been learning to ride," she explained to Edward with a grin.
"Ah, I see. That explains a lot."
Willa turned her attention
back to Edward. "I haven't seen or heard from you since Seamus's funeral, and that was almost a month ago. I was beginning to think you'd forgotten me."
"Hardly. I could never forget you, Willie, you know that. The Rocking R is still my number-one client. But I do apologize for neglecting you. For the past two weeks I've been tied up in political business in Helena. Although I did asked my secretary to convey that message. Don't tell me she didn't call."
"No, I haven't heard from her."
"She called," Zach said.
Willa shot him an accusing glare. "Why wasn't I told?"
"The message didn't seem to be directed to you personally, and I wasn't aware that you were expecting Mr. Manning."
Ever the diplomat, Edward jumped in before Willa could utter a blistering retort. "Oh, well. No harm done. You all seem to be settling in nicely, and I assume, since you haven't contacted my office, that no legal problems or questions have arisen so far."
"Now that you mention it, we have had one disturbing incident," Zach said.
Willa stiffened, but he ignored her and explained about the dead gopher and the note. By the time he was done, the attorney was frowning.
"Do you have any idea who would do such a thing?"
"No. We've drawn a blank." Zach and his brothers carefully avoided so much as a glance Willa's way. On the other side of the kitchen the women were suddenly busy.
"It doesn't make any sense." J.T. grimaced and adjusted his position against the wall. "What motive would anyone around here have to run us out? We haven't had time to make enemies."
"Ah, but Seamus didn't exactly endear himself to the folks around Clear Water," Edward replied.
"What's that got to do with us?"
Edward shrugged and spread his hands wide. "Who knows? Sins of the father, maybe?"
"Or in this case, the grandfather," J.T. muttered.
"The motive could be simple jealousy," Matt said. "Or greed."
"Greed?" Edward shook his head. "How can that be? The only ones who would stand to gain if you were to give up the ranch are a few universities. I can't believe anyone from those institutions would stoop to scare tactics to drive you out."
"Neither can I. However, there is one individual who would profit." Matt stared at Edward. "You."
"Me?"
"I don't believe it," Willa exclaimed. "First you accuse me. Now Edward?"
"You accused Willie?" Edward looked stunned. "But … that doesn't make any sense."
"I agree," J.T. said. "And neither does accusing you. What's the matter with you, Matt? That's just plain crazy."
"He's right, you know. All I would get is the normal executor's fee."
"I've done some checking. That fee is a percentage of the trust, which in this case would amount to a hefty sum."
"So is my annual retainer as your attorney."
"True, but it's not nearly as much as you'd get as executor of the trust."
Exasperated, Willa threw up her hands. "For Pete's sake, Matt! The Mannings have been our attorneys for years. Seamus had absolute trust in Edward's father and Edward. They were his friends!"
"Do you seriously believe I would risk my professional reputation and my political future, not to mention possible criminal prosecution, to sneak out here and kill some hapless creature and nail it to your door?" Edward shuddered fastidiously. "Please. Anyway, I've been in Helena for weeks. You can check that if you'd like."
"I intend to."
Edward tipped his head to one side and studied Matt's tough-as-nails face. "You don't like me much, do you, Matt?"
"I don't know you."
J.T. groaned. "Don't pay any attention to him. Matt was a cop. He has a suspicious mind and an innate distrust of lawyers."
"I can't say that I care much for reporters, either," Matt added, fixing J.T. with a pointed look.
"Hey, bro, lighten up, will you? I repented my ways, remember. I'm a novelist/cowboy now."
Matt snorted. "Some cowboy. You can barely stay in the saddle."
"Hey! You're one to talk."
"All right, that's enough, boys," Maude Ann drawled, dumping a stack of place mats on the table. "It's time for dinner. Darling, would you go tell the kids to wash up and come set the table?"
Matt groaned as he started to rise, but J.T. waved at him to stay put. "I'll go. I'm already on my feet."
"Edward, you will join us, won't you?" Kate asked as she and Maria began to placed platters and bowls of food on the table.
"Thanks, but—"
"Please, Edward, do stay," Willa urged, laying her hand over his. "We can do some catching up over dinner. You can tell me how your political plans are going. Are your friends in Helena still urging you to run for mayor?"
"Ah, no fair," he teased. "You know how much I love talking politics."
"Then you'll stay?"
The other women added their pleas, and he gave in.
Willa made certain that Edward was seated next to her, and throughout the meal she devoted all her attention and conversation to him and ignored everyone else. She listened attentively to his every word and laughed at his attempts at humor.
When dinner was over she tried to persuade him to spend the night, but he insisted he had to return to Bozeman.
Willa walked with him to his car, which was out front where he always parked. It would never occur to Edward to enter the house through the back door.
"How is it going?" he asked kindly when they reached his car and were alone for the first time. "Everything working out all right?"
Crossing her arms over her midriff, Willa shrugged and looked away at the night sky. "Okay, I guess. I still hate this arrangement, but there's nothing I can do about it. At least none of us has committed murder yet."
Edward chuckled, then patted her shoulder. "Buck up. You can take it, kiddo. I promise to stop by more often in the future, and you know you can always call me at my office or at home if you have a problem, don't you?"
"I know. Thanks, Edward."
He dropped a brotherly kiss on her forehead and climbed into his car. Willa stood where she was, watching him drive away. When his car's taillights disappeared over the crest of the hill, she headed for the barn.
She was halfway down the wide middle aisle before she realized she was not alone. "Oh." She stopped abruptly. "I didn't know you were in here."
Zach squatted on his haunches, examining the gate of the stall two down from Bertha's. An open toolbox sat on the ground at his side.
He glanced over his shoulder at her. Those cool green eyes did a quick sweep of her face and body. "What? Has your lover gone already? I thought you'd still be making out in his car."
Willa narrowed her eyes. "First of all, I do not 'make out in cars' as you so elegantly put it, and second, Edward is not my lover."
"Yeah, well, you'd never know it by the way you hung all over him during dinner."
Willa sucked in a sharp breath, so incensed all she could do for a moment was gape at him. "I did not hang on Edward," she denied hotly when she found her tongue. "I was merely enjoying a conversation with an old friend. Trust you to read something dirty into a perfectly innocent act."
"All I know is you sure seem to have a lot of 'good friends.' First Lennie Dawson, now Edward." He fished a screwdriver out of the toolbox and went to work tightening the screws on the stall gate. "Do they know about each other, by the way?"
"There is nothing to know," she snapped. "Not that it's any of your business."
Willa turned to leave, then changed her mind and spun around again. Jaws clenched, she stomped to Bertha's stall, jerked the gate open and stepped inside. She had as much right to be there as he did. She'd be darned if she'd let him run her off.
Bertha whinnied a greeting and nudged Willa's shoulder. Despite her anger, she smiled and reached into her shirt pocket for the sugar cube she'd stashed there during dinner. Bertha lipped the treat from her palm, and Willa leaned her forehead against the horse's neck and stroked her. "You big baby," she
murmured.
She loved Bertha more than anything or anyone on earth. Seamus had surprised her with the ten month old filly for her twenty-first birthday. The animal was the only thing of any great value that he'd ever given her. For that matter, it had been the first time since her mother's death that he had bothered to acknowledge her birthday at all.
Ever since then Bertha had been her most prized possession. Not just because she had been a gift from Seamus, but because the animal loved her in return – totally and unconditionally. That was something Willa had never been sure of from any of the people in her life – not her mother, not Seamus, not even Maria or Pete.
For those few moments as she petted Bertha, Willa forgot about everything else, including Zach, but when a quick glance revealed that he was watching her she stiffened and snatched up the curry brush.
Sweeping the brush over Bertha's hide in long, vigorous strokes, she studiously ignored him. She was braced for more of his sarcastic remarks but after several moments when none came she risked another sidelong glance and saw that he'd returned to working on the gate. They worked in silence for several more uncomfortable moments, but then some imp of mischief prodded Willa. Casting another look his way, she smiled slyly and began to softly sing "Rhinestone Cowboy."
From the corner of her eye she had the pleasure of seeing Zach stiffen. The screwdriver stilled and his jaw clenched. Willa fought back a grin. Until now, her gibes and insults had had no effect whatsoever on Zach, which had exacerbated her anger all the more. No matter what she'd said or done, it had all slid off him like water off a duck's back. It was insulting. He might as well have come right out and said her opinion of him was of no importance.
Enjoying herself, Willa sang a little louder and put an extra twang into the lyrics.
She expected him object at any second, but instead he flexed his shoulders and went back to tightening screws. She sang the entire song twice, but for all the reaction she got you would think that Zach was deaf. By the time she'd finished she was seething. Was the man made of stone?