Shane stumbled and fell.
A rope whirled through the air and landed around the neck of the bull.
Franny and her horse skidded to a stop between Shane and certain death.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
SO MUCH FOR thinking Bo had solved her bull-rider situation when he’d offered to ride.
Franny finished putting away the bull-training equipment and closed the door to the supply room in the barn.
Shane and Bo sat on the narrow bench in the breezeway. Jonah sat on an upside-down bucket nearby.
Franny tried to put on a brave front. “That turned out well, all things considered.”
“Yep.” Bo got to his feet, as slow as Gertie. “Nobody died.”
“Although there was some doubt about that outcome.” Jonah grinned. “If only I’d known—”
“We get it.” Bo moved toward the open barn doors, followed by Jonah.
“Are you okay?” Shane asked Franny, which was ironic given the fact that he’d nearly been flattened by a freight train of beef.
“I’m fine. How about you?” There was something different about Shane’s expression. His mouth was in a firm, thin line.
“Shane’s fine.” Bo paused at the door and turned. “Now, me? I feel like I was pulled from the bottom of a pile.”
“There’s beer in the kitchen,” Franny pointed out, not moving to get him any. She wanted a few minutes alone with Shane.
Bo perked up and set his feet in motion. Jonah trailed after him with arms extended, as if ready to catch him if he fell.
That left Franny and Shane alone.
“You don’t want a beer?” Suddenly, she wasn’t able to look at Shane for fear his ego couldn’t handle her saving him in the arena.
Shane took Franny’s hands and gave them a squeeze, drawing her gaze to his face and an understanding expression. “That was very nearly a disaster of epic proportions.”
“I got to you in time.”
“Me?” He laughed mirthlessly. “I’m not worried about me. How are you going to handle this without Bo, much less without Zeke and Emily?” He rested his forehead against hers. “You need trained hands, not inexperienced bodies. And you need them now. I’ll call Sophie tomorrow and ask her to cut her honeymoon short. She’ll understand. She probably misses the twins like crazy.”
“I can’t ask you to do that.”
“Who said anything about you asking?” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “If Zeke came back and heard about what had happened today, he’d be furious. At me, not you.” He kissed her nose. “Well, maybe a little at you. It’s hard to stay mad at you though.” He kissed her cheek. “You’re just so plucky.”
Franny didn’t want to be plucky. She suspected plucky women didn’t win the hearts of worldly, sophisticated men like Shane. She was falling in love with him. With his pragmatism, his tenderness, his courage. Her heart didn’t seem to care that he wasn’t staying around.
He was waiting for her to say something.
“I can offer Zeke an extra week of vacation later in the year. Convincing Emily isn’t going to be as easy.” Franny sighed, relenting. “If Zeke comes back, Sophie comes with him. She won’t need anyone to cover at the store.” He stared at her, brown eyes warm, just the way she liked them. “Now, you’re going to walk into that house and hold your head high. And do you know why?”
“Why?”
His smile was as gentle as his fingers running through her hair. “Because Blackie the Bull is going to make one heck of a rodeo star. He may not have been feral, but he’s got that killer instinct, no question.” And then he kissed Franny, long and deep and slow, reminding her how wonderful it was to have someone to talk through your problems with, to bolster you when you were down.
“You’re good for me,” Franny admitted a short time later.
Shane chuckled. “I don’t think a woman has ever told me that before.”
She felt a stab of jealousy. “You probably don’t talk to them about their business or logistics.” He certainly didn’t help them gather eggs from the henhouse, fix their fences or help train bulls. “Is that how you earned a spot on the town council? Your logistics?”
“I feel like the council wanted to keep an eye on me. You know, hear about my plans for the town.” His brow furrowed. “And then block them.”
“I’d like to hear about those plans.” Especially if it brought back the warmth to his eyes. “I doubt the town council has it out for you.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.” His words became as tense as the lines emanating from his eyes. “I have plans, but the town council won’t consider anything I put forth. Everything I put forth is either rejected because it’s too much work, or it’s too divisive. They can’t agree whether to support or kill my ideas.” He explained about the Merciless Mike Moody festival.
“Besides raising the idea, what did you propose to do to make it happen?”
“Me? Nothing. I don’t know if I’m going to be here next week, much less whenever they decide to hold this festival. If they decide to hold the festival.”
His words sank in and Franny immediately pulled back. What a timely reminder for her. He was leaving Second Chance some day.
And at the rate she was falling, if she wasn’t careful, he’d take her heart with him.
* * *
“WHAT ARE YOU guys playing?” Shane walked over to the kitchen table and the card game happening with three Clark boys, two Monroe men and Gertie.
He needed a distraction. The sting of Franny’s reality check in the barn had been unexpected and surprised him. It was like being fired all over again in spite of him understanding—and appreciating—Franny stepping back and reinserting space between them.
“We’re playing poker,” Davey replied.
“They’re good,” Jonah acknowledged, earning a grin from Davey. His cousin had very few pennies in front of him.
“We play for real money.” Charlie rifled a stack of pennies. “Granny Gertie says she can’t take the game seriously if we didn’t put up the dough.”
“And she didn’t mean cookie dough.” Bo had a stack and a half of nickels in front of him.
“I’m out.” Gertie tossed down her cards and gave her stake of pennies to little Adam. “Shane. We need to talk.” She led him to the chairs in front of the fireplace.
Shane assumed he was going to receive a set down for not helping Franny properly this afternoon. He had a bruise on his backside that reminded him every second just how dangerous those bulls were. And then there was the fact that he couldn’t convince Franny to do anything she didn’t want to do. She would always go her own way, and it was usually a more dangerous route.
“You’ve earned the right—” Gertie drew a brown afghan over her legs, laced her fingers in her lap and then gave him a look that glowed with praise “—to hear Harlan’s story.”
Finally.
“I fold.” Jonah gave his cents to Adam and joined them. He found a seat on the couch and glanced back at Bo. “Don’t you want to hear this?”
Bo shook his head. “A Texan never quits a game midhand.”
The boys giggled.
“I’d call his bluff, fellas.” Jonah winked at Gertie. “I should have brought my laptop.”
“Go on.” Shane had waited months to hear this story from someone in town.
Gertie leaned forward. “Well—”
The Clark boys hooted, having called Bo’s bluff and claimed all the winnings. Gertie twisted around to see what had happened.
“What’s going on over here?” Franny had come out of the laundry room with a basket of whites. “Gertie, you look like you’re holding a meeting.”
“Granny’s about to tell a story,” Charlie called out. “And Mr. Bo tried to beat Adam with a pair of twos!”
Franny brought the laundry
into the living room and sat down near Jonah. She managed not to look at Shane. “Is this about Merciless Mike?”
“No.” Gertie’s sallow features contorted into a lopsided frown. “It’s about Percy, Harlan and Hobart—Harlan’s twin.”
“Hobart? The preacher?” Jonah asked. “The one married to—”
“Irene.” Gertie’s expression softened and then saddened. “She was my friend. We were all friends.”
“And they found Merciless Mike’s gold?” Jonah asked, hot on the trail of an idea for his script.
“Nineteen forty-five,” Gertie said with pride. “But they put it back soon after.”
“It is about Merciless Mike.” Franny pressed her lips together and scowled at Gertie, who shoved her hands in her sweater pockets and frowned back.
“Let’s hear what she has to say.” Shane played the role of peacemaker. “Why didn’t they keep the gold?”
Gertie dragged her gaze away from Franny’s. “Well...”
With stiff steps, Bo joined them in the living room, sitting on the arm of the couch near Jonah. The boys were quietly listening at the table.
“We all agreed it was bad luck. Blood-tainted money.” Gertie sucked in air, then forced out the words. “First, the stage driver. Then, Old Jeb. Finally, Hobart.”
Jonah’s fingers were flexing in midair, almost as if they were pounding out words on a keyboard. “Did Harlan murder Hobart?”
“No,” said Gertie and Shane at the same time.
Shane had reacted on gut instinct. But Gertie...
Bo had moved to the mantel and the nearby built-in shelves that held a picture of Franny accepting a crown in a rodeo queen contest. Bo ignored Franny’s crown and peered at Gertie’s wedding picture. “Did Percy?”
“No.” Gertie scowled.
“You’re saying they found the gold and put it right back?” Franny had her arms crossed over her chest—she was closed off to Gertie’s story.
“No.” Gertie slapped her palms on her thighs. “Harlan made a mistake. He sold the first set of coins to an auction house in Boise. With the money, Percy bought the meanest bull in Idaho—Buttercup. Harlan fixed up the trading post. And Hobart went on a religious mission to Thailand.”
“Oh.” Shane snapped his fingers. “Hobart and Irene bought an elephant bell over there. Sophie found it in the trading post last month.” His honeymooning cousin had felt compelled to donate the piece to the Monroe Art Collection in Philadelphia.
“And then...” Gertie drew a deep breath. “The trading post improvements didn’t return Harlan’s investment, Hobart showed up having spent all his share and the bull escaped Percy’s pasture.”
“Here’s where the blood comes in,” Bo predicted, tilting his head from side to side with a sickening crack, crack, crack, crack.
Everyone shushed him. Everyone but Gertie.
She nodded. “Harlan took more gold to the same auction house.”
“And someone at the auction house got greedy.” Bo’s observation earned another group shush.
“Yes.” Gertie pointed at him. “The auctioneer followed Harlan to Second Chance and demanded the rest of the gold.”
“Did he have a gun?” Adam asked, coming to sit at Gertie’s feet.
“Did he shoot somebody?” Charlie joined him.
“He wanted to kill me!” Tears filled Gertie’s eyes. “He held me hostage. Me and Irene.”
“The things people do for money.” Shane thought about the dissenting eight. At least, no guns had been drawn in their family feud.
“What happened next, Granny?” Davey stared at Gertie as if hypnotized.
“The men rushed the auctioneer.” Gertie gripped Davey’s hand, staring at the boy although she seemed to see something else. “There was a scuffle. A gunshot.” She jolted. “And then another.”
“Where did this happen?” Bo scanned the floor as if searching for bloodstains.
“Who shot who?” Jonah demanded, sitting on the edge of his seat.
Gertie blinked back to the present, taking inventory of her audience, which included impressionable children. “I shouldn’t say.”
The room erupted with protests. Gertie looked at her great-grandsons as if she feared her story had ruined them for life.
“Boys, you have to go to your room.” Franny wasn’t using her indoor voice. “Now.”
They protested. They pleaded. But eventually they stomped upstairs and were much too silent. Most likely, they’d be pressing their ears to the floorboards to listen.
“What happened, Gertie?” Shane took hold of her hand.
“Hobart. He was shot twice in the gut.” She swallowed thickly, blinking back tears. She had a handkerchief fisted in her hand. She pressed it to her stomach. “It was painful. Almost worse to watch.”
“But...” Jonah was at a loss. “Did they rush Hobart to the hospital? Did they overpower the thief?”
“Jonah, this isn’t one of your movies with a neatly wrapped happily-ever-after,” Bo snapped.
“The auctioneer took the gold, but he got his,” Gertie said in a cold voice Shane had never heard her use before. “On the trail down the mountain. It was all Clark land back then.”
And federal land now, Shane surmised.
“A bull,” Franny guessed. “The original Buttercup.”
“Buttercup, indeed.” Gertie’s tone was colder than a January wind in the mountains. “The meanest bull in Idaho.”
“How horrible,” Franny murmured, no doubt thinking about her husband.
Shane came to sit next to her, wrapping an arm around her.
A lone tear spilled down Gertie’s cheek.
“And what about Hobart?” But Shane had a sinking suspicion he knew how this had ended. He’d never heard a word about Grandpa Harlan’s brother.
Gertie’s gaze was hollow, as if she was seeing it all play out again. “We didn’t have a town doctor. Not back then.” And they were an hour’s drive to the nearest hospital.
No one said anything for a time.
“That auctioneer. They buried that loser in the woods, I hope,” Bo said.
“He got what he wanted.” Gertie’s expression hardened to match the chill of her words. “In the end.”
“They buried him with the gold?” Jonah covered his mouth, but it didn’t stop anyone from hearing him. “That is Old-West justice.”
“And the bull?” Shane asked, although he thought he knew.
“We never caught Buttercup.” Gertie’s face crumpled. “We should’ve. Over the years, he created his own herd, one that terrorized this ranch.”
Her features pinched, Franny sniffed and leaned into Shane’s shoulder.
“But what about the gold?” Shane drew Franny close, offering what comfort he could. “Is it still out there? Harlan didn’t take it to buy an oil field?”
“No.” Gertie shook her handkerchief at Shane. “We decided it was bad luck. Harlan sold his family’s property here and left for Texas.”
There wasn’t a huge mystery surrounding Harlan’s original stake, after all. Shane was kind of disappointed.
“I see it all,” Jonah said absently. “Like a movie playing in my head.”
Bo slugged his shoulder and shushed him.
“Ow.” Jonah rubbed his arm. “What happened to Irene?”
“She left town and returned to her family in Denver, I think.” Gertie rubbed her shoulder with her fist.
“I want to talk to her.” There was excitement in Jonah’s eyes, and it wasn’t from gold.
“Don’t get your hopes up,” Bo whispered. “She might not be alive.”
“I don’t think the gold is still there,” Shane said slowly. “Not in the cemetery. Or at least, not all of it.”
“Would you listen to yourselves?” Franny scooted out from under Shane�
�s arm. “Whatever happened with Merciless Mike’s gold is in the past and that’s where it should stay. For everyone’s sake, especially Gertie’s.”
Shane shook his head. “Then why did Harlan and Percy leave a trail of pictures? They wouldn’t have done that if they didn’t want to return to take the gold someday.”
“It’s in the cemetery,” Gertie insisted. “In the northwest corner.”
Bo began talking about needing gloves, shovels and a wheelbarrow. Jonah started talking about wanting a decent camera to capture the expedition for behind-the-scenes footage.
“You can’t just go digging in the cemetery.” Franny was nearly beside herself. “For one thing, it’s probably illegal, not to mention immoral, to disturb the dead. And for another, that is right in the heart of feral territory.”
“I’m certain the gold is out there, but I’m not convinced it’s in the cemetery.” Shane let Franny’s arguments slide. “Why would they leave their photos in the trees if it was in a cemetery?”
“It’s in the cemetery.” Gertie was adamant. “Percy told me so. And that’s where I told Kyle to look.”
Everyone stilled.
“You...” Franny swallowed, blood draining from her face. “You told Kyle about the gold? You sent him up there...alone? And he...” Her voice cracked. “How could you? He died because...”
Gertie swallowed thickly, plucking at the handkerchief. “I wanted the ranch to carry on. The Monroes are fine. They don’t need their cut. But we need a boost, Franny. Kyle understood that.”
And in that one statement, Shane understood Franny’s husband. He’d been willing to risk everything to save his family and provide for the woman he loved.
Franny shook her head and dashed away her tears. “I’m sorry, Gertie, but you haven’t been remembering things clearly lately. If there ever was a Merciless Mike—” she captured Shane’s gaze with her tear-filled one “—no one found his gold. You’ve been telling this story for years.” She dashed at her tears again. “You just... You just had to make up a new ending, one where the gold was found by you and your friends. And then you told Kyle.” She pressed a hand on her throat. “And then he... For nothing.”
Lassoed by the Would-Be Rancher--A Clean Romance Page 16