Maybe if I made Jigglers…
I reminded myself that when it came to heart disease, Calvin’s smoking habit was probably his most significant risk factor. Now that he’d quit, his next hurdle would be to avoid gaining weight, although as skinny as he was, I doubted it would be a problem, at least not at first. Maybe the sugar-free Jell-O could wait for a bit.
I was mulling over recipes with “healthy” ingredients when the guys came in to get the plates.
The pudding came out perfectly—puffy, buttery, and lightly browned—and I carried the first dish into the mess hall with pride, leaving Nick to follow with the second batch.
Mr. Kincaid peered at it with interest as we set the pans on the table. “What the devil is that?”
I glanced at Calvin, who had probably guessed what it was from our earlier exchange. However, it was Wyatt who spoke.
“Yorkshire pudding,” he said with a touch of nostalgic fervor. “Haven’t had that since I was a kid.” He stole a peek inside the ceramic pitcher sitting next to the platter of roast beef. “I see you made plenty of gravy to go with it.”
“You betcha.” I smiled, absurdly pleased that Wyatt had been the one to correctly identify one of my favorite, if somewhat obscure, side dishes. A flush rose in my cheeks before drifting downward to create a warm, cozy sensation around my heart. At one time, I wouldn’t have dared look such a man in the eye, but I was able to do it now, further enhancing the connection between us. Unlike the intimidating glare I knew him to be capable of, his gaze was gentle and inviting, combining with a smile so genuine, they stole my breath and comforted me at the same time.
I could almost feel myself falling in love with him, and I didn’t want to look away. Didn’t want to break the spell…
“Have a seat, Tina,” Bull urged. “I gotta try that stuff.”
The spell might have been broken, but there was an empty chair beside Wyatt. I wondered if he’d saved it for me.
The pressure of his hand on my knee as I sat down told me he had done just that. The cozy feeling intensified to the point I was surprised Bull didn’t remark on what was surely a visible change in my aura. Fortunately, his eyes were aimed at the food rather than at me.
“Pudding, huh?” Sonny said with a dubious frown. “Doesn’t look like pudding.”
“It’s more of a bread, actually,” I said. “You make it with eggs, flour, and milk like a pudding, only it isn’t sweet.”
“It’s British,” Wyatt said, as if that explained everything, and perhaps it did. “Trust me, you’ll like it.”
Mr. Kincaid gave an official welcome-home speech for Calvin’s benefit, and after that, we dug into dinner like the celebration it was. Sonny declared it the best meal he ever ate in his life. I doubted Calvin appreciated that sentiment, but he didn’t fuss about it. For once, Bull didn’t say much of anything, being too busy making the last of the pudding and peach pie disappear.
The warm fuzzies persisted throughout the meal, becoming even more pronounced when Wyatt followed me into the kitchen to help with the dishes. The whole evening had a happily-ever-after vibe to it. I could actually see myself living here with these men for the rest of my life—especially Wyatt. I cautioned myself that I was thinking such thoughts much too soon. This entire episode might simply turn out to be the one bright spot in my otherwise humdrum existence that I would look back on with fondness in my later years. I might fall in love with Wyatt only to have something horrible happen to him.
My, how optimistic.
I reminded myself that I often engaged in tragic fantasies during that particular phase of my menstrual cycle. I’d learned to see it for what it was and put a lid on it, but I wasn’t always successful.
“Calvin looks pretty good,” Wyatt said, interrupting my morbid ruminations. “Did you tell him about us reading his letters?”
“Yeah. Figured it was best to come clean. I told him about his sister dying too.”
“How did he take the news?”
“Pretty well, I think. He didn’t know she’d died, which made me wonder if maybe she wasn’t the right Jeannine Caruthers.” I set a stack of plates in the sink, then turned to face him. “I showed him the obituary. He said the woman we found was definitely his sister, but we stumbled on something else—something that puts a completely different spin on several things.”
“Sounds interesting. What is it?”
Someday I would get used to Wyatt’s uniquely shaped eyebrows, but for the moment, I was still fascinated by them, especially when arched in surprise. I shook my head. “I’d rather show you. I want to get your gut reaction.”
“I’m really curious now.”
I glanced at the sink. “Come on, then. This won’t take long, and the dishes could stand to soak for a bit.”
I led the way to my room and logged on to my laptop. I’d left the browser open on the guestbook page, and it only took Wyatt a few moments to scan the contents.
“Definitely interesting,” he said. “Although I can’t imagine why anyone would ever think he would see this.”
“That’s what I thought, but I suppose it’s better than nothing.”
He nodded. “Hiring a private investigator would’ve made more sense, but I can see where this could actually work. That is, if he ever got wind of her death. I mean, he did see it eventually.”
Not having considered the private detective angle before, another possibility occurred to me. “I wonder… Do you think the guy asking about Calvin at the hospital could’ve been a detective? He might’ve only pretended to be a friend of the family in order to gain access to him.”
“Seems odd for it to take a detective this long to find him. I mean, his sister died nearly five months ago.”
“What if they only hired the guy recently, hoping that notice would work?”
“That makes sense, but why would a detective pretend to be a family friend?” He shook his head, frowning. “Seems like he would’ve gotten more attention if he’d told them who he really was.”
“I doubt it. I got the impression that hospital was really strict about limiting visitors in the critical care units. I’m a little surprised they let Angela see him, although as his employer, she’s probably the closest thing to family he has around here.”
“That’s why Bull and I followed the ambulance to Rock Springs and then drove on to Salt Lake. We told them Angela would be coming to stay with Calvin. Trust me, he wouldn’t be the first cowboy to be dragged into the ER by a couple of his buddies.” Wyatt paused, cocking his head to one side, his gaze aimed toward the computer screen. “What if the reason they’ve made so little effort is because someone doesn’t want him to be found?”
“A secondary beneficiary, you mean?” I’d had similar thoughts myself. Hearing Wyatt say it made my own suspicions seem less preposterous.
“Yeah. Think about it. If Jeannine had named Calvin as her heir with the provision that her estate would go to someone else after a certain length of time, that person would have plenty of reasons to hope he was never found.” He paused again, his frown becoming more ominous by the second. “Or to make sure he was never found.”
His tone of voice made the implication clear. “I thought you didn’t put much stock in Bull’s murder theory.”
“I didn’t.” He tapped the bold red lettering at the top of the guestbook page. “That changed my mind.”
Chapter 19
“Motive was the main thing missing from Bull’s murder theory,” Wyatt went on. “We have that now. Unfortunately, what we don’t have is a method or a suspect.” His frustration was as plain as the furrows his fingers left in his hair. “It’d be different if he’d been shot. It’s pretty hard to prove attempted murder when the victim had a heart attack.”
“What about that empty nitro bottle?” I said. “What if someone emptied it knowing he might die without them?”
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br /> “It’s possible,” he conceded. “Incredibly hard to prove, though. A murderer would’ve worn gloves, but our fingerprints are all over that bottle.” He blew out a breath. “We’re still jumping to conclusions, and I sure as hell don’t want to worry Calvin with our suspicions. Might be enough to bring on another attack.”
After seeing the way he’d reacted to Jeannine’s passing, I suspected Calvin was tougher than that, but Wyatt knew him better than I did. “Calvin didn’t seem too interested in finding out more. Said he’d think about it.”
“Could be he knows something he isn’t telling us. We only know one of the reasons he cut himself off from his sister. Maybe there’s something more sinister going on.”
I couldn’t help chuckling. “With imaginations like ours, we should be writing crime novels instead of working on a ranch.”
“Oh yeah? I can think of several other ways to use my imagination, all of which are a helluva lot more fun than sleuthing.” His choice of terms accompanied by a Groucho Marx–style eyebrow waggle sent me over the edge into all-out laughter.
“Sleuthing?” I echoed when I had enough breath to speak. “I haven’t heard that word since I outgrew Nancy Drew mysteries.”
“Ah, so you do have a background in sleuthing.”
“Not sure I’d call it that, although I’ve read my share of whodunits. The trouble is, we not only don’t have a suspect, we’re not even sure we have a crime.”
“You’re forgetting the fence-cutting episodes.”
“Hmm…so I am. Speaking of which, I was talking to Dean about that this morning. Did he say anything to you?”
“Just that you were thinking it might have been a means of keeping us out of the way long enough for someone to search the bunkhouse.”
I nodded. “And that person could’ve done enough searching to know how badly Calvin might need those nitro tablets.”
“The fences haven’t been cut since Calvin had his heart attack…” His expression grew thoughtful. “Wonder if that’ll start happening again now that he’s home.”
My eyes widened to the point of discomfort. “You think the murderer will try a more direct approach this time?”
“Like actually taking a shot at Calvin? Maybe. Depends on how desperate he is.”
I stared at the link to the law office, wishing Calvin had shown a little more interest. For me to contact them without his consent felt wrong—far worse than reading his letters. “I sure hope Calvin decides to contact those lawyers. They could probably answer a lot of our questions.”
“Or stir up a hornet’s nest full of trouble. Like I said, Calvin knows those people better than we do, and rich folks can be pretty ruthless when it comes to hanging on to their assets. Did you tell Angela about this?”
“No. I thought I’d wait until Calvin made a decision. You’re the only one I’ve told.” Calvin hadn’t sworn me to secrecy, so I wasn’t exactly betraying a confidence. Nevertheless, having Wyatt to swap ideas with made keeping quiet that much easier.
“I’m glad you did,” he said. “Calvin may not want to admit it, but he needs protection.”
With a nod, I closed the computer and got to my feet, wondering just how far Wyatt would go to keep the old man safe.
To protect and serve…
Memories of that awful night returned with a vengeance. At the time, Wyatt’s own life hadn’t been at risk, but if even half of what we suspected was true, that could change in a heartbeat. “I guess that’s all we can do for now,” I said, failing to suppress a shudder.
His eyes narrowed in concern. “You aren’t scared, are you?”
“I dunno. Maybe a little.” As if to prove it, my body gave another involuntary quiver.
Wyatt eased me into his embrace. He felt so solid and warm. So capable and strong.
But even a strong man could be brought down by a bullet. Grandpa had once been a healthy young soldier. Near the end when he could no longer even bathe himself, I’d been the one to do it. I’d seen and touched the scars from the bullets that nearly killed him.
“No one’s gonna hurt you,” he whispered. “I won’t let that happen. I can’t let that happen.” He tightened his hold on me as though the shelter of his arms would somehow be all the protection I would ever need.
“It’s not me I’m worried about.” I’d been nervous enough when he and Nick had gone out in the middle of the night in search of a prowler. The possibility that someone wanted Calvin dead boosted my anxiety to a substantially higher level. “I’m worried about Calvin, you, and all the guys. When someone is bent on murder, other people—innocent people—sometimes get in the way.”
The words had scarcely left my lips when I felt Wyatt stiffen around me. The warmth was still there, but he seemed…frozen.
I drew back in surprise. One glimpse of his stricken expression confirmed my suspicion that there was something else going on. Something that had nothing to do with Calvin. “What’s wrong?”
Wyatt had once been a firefighter, and now he was a cowboy.
To protect and serve…
Of course. Somehow, somewhere, there’d been at least one person he couldn’t protect. Someone whose memory haunted him like a ghost.
“I thought coming here would make a difference.” Although he was speaking to me—at least I thought he was—his gaze was focused on some distant, indefinable point. “And most of the time it does. I ride horses. Round up strays. Feed cattle. Fix fences.” A frown creased his forehead. “It follows me, though. Wherever I go, whatever I do, there’s always someone I can’t protect. Someone I can’t save. Something beyond my control.”
I touched his cheek. “What happened, Wyatt? Can you tell me?”
As if my touch had flipped the switch that brought him back to the present, he blinked. His eyes were once again focused on me, but they were filled with enough anguish to make anything I’d ever endured seem trivial.
“I’m not sure.” His short bark of laughter contained no amusement whatsoever. “Does it change anything for you to know I was once so helpless, I could only watch? I couldn’t do anything to stop what was happening. I couldn’t even yell for help.”
“Stop what?” Despite his intense, penetrating gaze—one that should’ve had me shaking in my shoes—my knees held firm, although my voice sounded soft and breathy.
“My father,” he snapped. “Does it help you to know I could only crouch in a corner and watch while he beat my mother to death?”
I stared back at him for the space of as many heartbeats as it took me to realize my mouth was hanging open. “Oh, Wyatt…”
What else was there to say? To be honest, I was surprised I was able to say what little I had. Then it dawned on me that in all the years since then—no doubt he’d been a child at the time—he’d probably never said those words to anyone.
Except me.
I tried to lick my lips with a tongue that had gone bone dry. “Yes, it does help. Because it helps me to know who you are.” My tremulous smile lasted less than a second. “I want to know everything about you, Wyatt. Everything. Can you do that? Can you tell me everything?”
He stared at me with eyes now devoid of expression. My heart slid to my toes as he lowered his head, obviously preferring to face the floor instead of me.
With a slow exhale, he glanced up. “I think I just did.”
I watched as tension flowed from him like a receding flood. My own anxiety, on the other hand, didn’t abate one iota. Even my teeth were chattering.
With a shrug, he continued, “Everything that matters, anyway. The rest is only what came afterward—police, counselors, foster homes. My last foster father was a firefighter, and he was everything my real father wasn’t. Someone to look up to and emulate. I followed in his footsteps the best I could, but there were still fires I couldn’t put out fast enough, still people I couldn’t save.�
�� He paused, rubbing the back of his neck with a hand that appeared to be shaking as much as I was. “After that last big fire—all those people we couldn’t rescue—I knew I had to quit. I got in my truck and started driving until I wound up here.” He smiled. “I’d never been on a horse in my life, but I learned. It felt right, like this was where I belonged.”
“I know at least one person you saved.”
He shrugged again. “That was only basic life support training. Anyone could’ve done it.”
“True, but you were the one who saved Calvin’s life, and you aren’t just anyone. Not by a long shot. You’re a good man, Wyatt McCabe,” I said with absolute conviction. “No matter where you go or what you do, that part of you still shines through.”
“I’m glad you think so. If you didn’t—” He squeezed his eyes shut, whether in a wince or to blink back tears, I couldn’t tell. “I don’t know what I would’ve done. From that first moment, there was something about you, Tina. Something that shook me up like nothing else ever has, which is why I was acting like such an asshole. I’m sorry about that.”
“No worries,” I said. “I was kinda shook up myself. Guys like you usually have me shaking in my shoes.” Wyatt had made me tremble before he even opened his mouth. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a little on the shy side.”
Finally, he smiled. “You think?”
“Yeah. I didn’t realize you were different until I saw you feeding cornbread to Ophelia. Although the fact that she didn’t growl at you should’ve been my first clue.” I glanced at my trusty dog, who was currently asleep on my bed. “She’s a pretty good judge of character.” Turning back toward Wyatt, I studied him for a moment. “You okay?”
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