by Bo Drury
“Had he died, it would have meant a larger part for her. Orlando really searched for him. He loves his son but he is afraid of the caverns. It was Rebecca's playground as a child; she loved them. She scared Jeb and Orlando as children, pretending to be a demon—which, in reality, she is.”
“What about the old man?”
“Jeb ran over the old man in Crystoval. He was the one answered the phone that day and the old man knew it. He could have pinpointed Jeb as the shooter.”
“How did Hub fit in here?”
“He thought he was protecting Melody from Jeb. Rebecca convinced him Jeb was going to kill her for the inheritance. She thought Hub was a weak link; when she saw us come from the cavern she knew he would fold. She shot him at just the right moment.”
Standing and pacing the floor, he added, “Not knowing she was around, we couldn't figure out who the shooter was. Hub helped her put you in the cavern. Doris was coming too close with her chart, so she took her with Melody's help. Hub was upset about some of the things that were happening. He wouldn't go along with her schemes.”
“What happened to Jeb?”
“She sedated him just like she did you then held him under the water. If Orlando had not come to wake you, you would have disappeared too.”
“Who was the woman in the morgue?”
“She was actually a Jane Doe who just happened to resemble Rebecca. Rebecca paid the boy who worked there to take her fingerprints and use them to identify the body. She would show up later and claim it had been a mistake so she could claim her husband's inheritance.”
Giving Harry a thoughtful look, Josh went on. “Probably if we were to look into it, there would be something unnatural about his death. And the boy who worked in the morgue is missing. I have an idea the caverns have swallowed him up. Rebecca was a beautiful spoiled woman. As a girl she was wild and headstrong and gave her mother a bad time. Like I said, she has the cunning of a black widow, and everyone fell into her trap.”
“I can say truthfully it was a tangled web, “Harry added. Reaching for a cigarette, he remembered he had thrown them away. I'll have to buy me some peanuts, he thought.
Getting up to leave, he shook hands with Josh. “Call me when I need to come back over.”
“It won't be anytime soon.” Josh laughed. “This town needs a rest from the likes of you.”
Harry started out the door then turned around. “I just remembered the name of that song she played in the tunnel. It was the ‘Merry Widow Waltz'.”
With a wave of his hand he headed to the hospital and Doris.
Climbing the hospital steps, he turned and looked out on the sleepy little town. No one ever knows what goes on in places like this. If you were driving through, all you would see was a pleasant town nestled along the Devil's River and never know that his playground ran beneath it.
Going down the long hall to Doris's room, he thought of the things the doctor had said and wondered if she would really be okay when she woke up.
His pulse surged as he approached the door and heard the sound of her voice floating into the hall. Rounding the doorway, he was amazed when he saw her sitting up, laughing and talking to the young doctor.
She turned her gaze to him, taking him in, including him in her smile. He just stood there drinking in the sight of her, his heart filling with emotion.
“What?” she said in her usual curt way.
The doctor excused himself with something about seeing to other patients and left the room. Harry didn't hear what he said or care, he was so taken with her appearance.
“Are you about ready to blow this joint?” he asked.
“Anytime, fella. Where have you been?”
“You would not believe me if I told you. Anyhow, it's a long story. A scary story. I'll tell you about it sometime. Right now I have something else to tell you.” He walked to the side of the bed.
“Oh, did they catch the bad guy?”
“You mean the wicked witch?” He sat down on the edge of the bed.
“The wicked witch?”
“Witches, plural.” He leaned toward her.
“Plural?” she asked as his lips brushed hers.
He picked her up off the bed and cradled her in his arms, nuzzling her neck. He kissed the tip of her nose and teased the corner of her mouth with his lips. Then he looked into her eyes which were smoldering with the desire he had kindled.
“You were going to tell me something?” she asked breathlessly, waiting.
Putting his mouth to her ear, he nibbled, then whispered, “You're fired.”
“What!”
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Bo Drury, born Elizabeth Paulann Lockhart and raised in the Texas Panhandle, had the advantage of growing up in the country and developing a great love for nature and the plains. She has story after story to tell from listening to her father's tall tales and the adventures of her ancestors, who braved the hardships of the new land and were themselves instrumental in taming of the Wild West—from her sixth great grandfather, Daniel Boone, to her paternal grandparents who made the run into the no-man's land called the Indian Territory of Oklahoma. With a ranching heritage on one side and a newspaper family on the other, her desire to write started at an early age. To date she has written several short stories of the West compiled in a book called Once Upon a Time Out West. She is presently living in Texas near her four sons, and you will find her busy ‘painting’ stories at her easel or on her computer. You may visit her at:
[email protected]
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WHISKEY CREEK PRESS
www.whiskeycreekpress.com
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Visit www.whiskeycreekpress.com for information on additional titles by this and other authors.
Table of Contents
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
For your reading pleasure, we invite you to visit our web bookstor
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