by Pam Crooks
“Good to see you, Stan.” Tru shook the restaurant proprietor’s beefy hand.
“Who’s the pretty lady?” Stan grinned and eyed her with flagrant male curiosity. Though he was probably old enough to be her grandfather, there was appreciation, too. “Haven’t seen this one on your arm before.”
“Name’s Juliette Blanchard.”
“Blanchard.” Stan’s grin faltered. His glance jerked to Tru. “Avery Blanchard’s kin?”
Tru finished off the beer in one, long swallow. He set the bottle down before responding with a curt nod. “His daughter.”
“Yeah?”
Stan stared at Juliette, as if seeing her in a different light now that he knew who she was, and a not particularly favorable light at that.
The man’s behavior was both unexpected and puzzling. She’d never seen him before in her life. Juliette managed a cool smile and extended her hand in greeting. “You knew my father, then, Mr.—?”
“Parsons. Stan Parsons.” He took her hand in a firm handshake. “Yeah, I knew him.”
“How?”
Again, Stan looked at Tru, as if seeking permission to reply.
“Stan used to own the Antler Saloon.” Tru spoke for him, his tone grim. “He was there the night my father was killed.”
The Antler Saloon. A prickle of unease skidded down her spine from the abruptly familiar name.
“If you want to know his association with your father, you’d best be prepared for what he has to say, Juliette,” Tru went on. “If you’re not, we’ll leave right now.”
The seriousness in the restaurant owner’s expression filled her with a growing trepidation of what he knew. And what she didn’t. “I have no intention of leaving, Tru.”
Father had forbidden her to speak of that terrible night so long ago, the night when James McCord had died a violent death.
The night that ended her love affair with Tru.
Why would Father forbid it?
Suddenly, she had to know what happened.
“Reckon you’re not going to like what you hear,” Tru warned grimly.
Juliette swallowed. As much as she worried for her sister’s whereabouts, removing the veil of ominous secrecy from that night had to take precedence.
“I want the truth,” she said. “Tell me everything.”
Chapter 5
The restaurant owner hooked an arm over the back of the chair. “Your father had a reputation for being a hard man, Miss Blanchard. There’s some that says a good businessman has to know how to hit below the belt to succeed. Your daddy knew all the ways.”
She arched a brow. “How so, Mr. Parsons?”
“He knew people. He had men who worked under him to help get what he wanted.”
“My father was an ambitious man, yes,” she said carefully. What was Stan insinuating? That her father was less than honorable?
“’Course, money’ll get a man to do most anything. Money or a woman. In your daddy’s case, it was both.”
“A woman!” Instant disagreement shot through her. “My parents were deeply in love. If you’re claiming he took a mistress, I’ll refuse to believe—”
Stan held up a hand. “Hold on, Miss Blanchard. I ain’t claiming that at all. No, ma’am. He loved your mama, all right.”
“More than anything,” she said fiercely, flooded with a rush of happy memories of them together.
“Yes. Your mama loved him, too, but maybe not as much as he loved her.”
Juliette didn’t move. “What do you mean?”
“Her heart belonged to another man,” Stan said. “Even after she married Avery, she couldn’t get her first love off her mind.”
“I don’t believe it,” she said, aghast.
“She had an affair with my father, Juliette,” Tru said. “After she married yours.”
Shock rolled through her. Mama and James McCord?
“They’d known each other since they were kids. Pa even proposed when they were of age, but she spurned him and went off to school in St. Louis. Eventually, she married Avery and bore his daughters. Pa and Elizabeth didn’t see one another until Avery brought you all back to Omaha when he took the job as bank president.”
Tru’s gaze didn’t waver. He appeared calm, in control. He spoke low, nonchalant almost, showing no sign he could be lying to her. No semblance of deceit.
He’d always spoken the truth to her. How could she not believe him now?
“I remember James and Mama meeting,” she said in a hushed voice.
It’d been purely by chance outside a grocer’s store. Mama had been flustered, a little giddy. Juliette had seen the flush to her cheeks, the brightness in her eyes. The pair had visited an extraordinarily long time, but Juliette hadn’t minded.
Tru had been there, too.
“You were wearing a pink dress,” Tru murmured, watching her. “And a hat to match.”
“Yes.” And you stole my heart that day.
“He was never good enough for her,” Tru went on matter-of-factly, as if he’d accepted it long ago. “After all, he was just a two-bit gambler who did some carpentry on the side, saddled with a couple of sons he’d fathered with a prostitute and a run-down ranch he managed to scrimp a living on. He couldn’t give her the life she was accustomed to. Or the respect. Society meant everything to Elizabeth. She intended to keep her place in it.”
Yes, Juliette thought on a wave of dismay. Mama thrived on dinner parties, the theater, expensive trips abroad with friends. All the things a wealthy man like Father could give her.
“Avery found out about the affair and held James responsible,” Stan said. “Your mama decided she wanted to stay married and keep the good life Avery had given her, so she ended the trysts with James. But James refused to give her up. He made a real nuisance of himself, slandering your daddy every chance he got. Long about the same time, Tru started to court you. It was Avery’s worst nightmare to realize the two of you were smitten.”
“Yes. I remember,” she said quietly.
Father had been furious. He’d forbidden her from seeing Tru ever again, but it’d been Mama who soothed her and found a way...
“Avery decided to take matters into his own hands. One night, back when I still owned the Antler, he paid me a visit. Came late at night, after my last customer left, so we were alone in the place. Said he knew I had a loan at his bank, but he’d make sure the account was paid off if I’d find him the best professional gambler I knew.” Stan hesitated. “If I didn’t, he’d call the loan in.”
“He blackmailed you?” Juliette’s skin chilled.
“Yes, ma’am, he did. Now, I’ve owned saloons all my life. Only natural that I’d meet quite a few cardsharps, and none of them could play better than Roger Stillman. Folks called him ‘Ace’ because he always seemed to have a spare when he needed it the most.” Stan shrugged. “What would it matter if I introduced them? Wasn’t my place to ask why your daddy needed a cardsharp. All I wanted was to get out of debt, so I sent word to Ace. He took the next train out here.”
“Why did Father need Mr. Stillman’s expertise?” Juliette asked, half-afraid to find out.
“Justice,” Tru murmured.
She swung her gaze toward him in horror. “For Mama’s affair?”
Tru nodded. “Stillman invited my father to join him for a private game in the back room of the Antler. Pa jumped at the chance. Stillman was a high roller. Pa figured he had as good a chance of winning against him as anyone else. He had a few debts of his own to pay off. I suppose he thought he could make himself look good to your mother, too.” A corner of Tru’s mouth lifted. “Pa was an optimist. Always thought he could out-win his opponents. Got him into more trouble than he could stay out of, I’m afraid.”
“James had no idea he was being set-up.” Stan took up the story thread while Tru left his chair and strode to the bar. “I’d seen enough card games in my day that I could tell he didn’t know. Ace let him win for a few hours. The chips began to pile up. ‘Course
, the riper the pot, the greedier James got.”
Tru returned with the wine bottle and re-filled Juliette’s glass. “Then he started to lose. Again and again. Wasn’t long before Pa got suspicious about his sudden turn of bad luck.”
“Desperate, too,” Stan added.
Tru nodded. “Came down to the last hand. Pa was almost out of chips. He had only one thing left to bet.”
Nausea churned in Juliette’s stomach. “McCord land.”
“Don’t know what he was thinking,” Tru muttered.
Stan slid a hand through his thinning hair. “When he lost that, too, he jumped up from the table and accused Ace of cheating. Now, both men had been drinking heavily. We’d all had our share of whiskey that night. But looking back, I can’t help thinking Ace was more sober than we knew. When James started yelling, Ace whipped out a sawed-off Remington .44. He only fired once, but that’s all it took.”
Juliette pressed her fingers to her lips. The nausea churned harder.
“I never figured him for a killer, Miss Blanchard,” Stan said. “Never knew Avery had an ulterior motive in hiring him, either.”
“You can’t prove any of this,” she choked.
Tru’s hard gaze held hers. “No. We can’t.”
“Your daddy made sure of that,” Stan agreed with a grim nod.
“You’re wrong about him. You’re wrong about all this,” she persisted, desperate.
“I was at the saloon, Juliette,” Tru said. “I saw everything.”
“But maybe Father didn’t have an ulterior motive that night,” Juliette said. “Maybe it was all a horrible mistake, a—a misconception on your part.”
“Stillman skipped town afterwards,” Tru said roughly. “No one’s heard from him since. We tried to get the police to file charges and issue a warrant for his arrest, but the chief was a personal friend of your father’s. Not a single thing was done about Pa’s murder.”
“Didn’t even get reported in the Omaha Bee or the Herald.” Stan shook his head. “Reckon your daddy had a part in that, too. Most folks never knew about the murder, and those that did acted like it never happened.”
Juliette threw back a quick swallow of wine. The next day, Father sent them all to Europe for the summer. He didn’t go with them due to business commitments.
Or so he claimed.
Was it to ensure that the scandal remained out of the public’s eye? Did he hope to spare Mama and Juliette the certainty of ugly rumors? Did he expect them to simply forget about the McCords by the time they returned to the States?
If so, he was a fool. Juliette had never forgotten Tru. And how dare Father remove him from her life.
She would never know Mama’s feelings about losing the man who had first stolen her heart. If her marriage suffered, if she suspected Father’s part in the killing, she never let on. Her parents appeared as happy as they’d ever been.
The terrible scarlet fever set in soon after that, and the Blanchard family’s lives changed forever.
“I’ve had my share of guilt over it,” Stan said. “Since then, I’ve made my peace with Tru and Ryan.” He sighed heavily. “After that night, the Antler left a sour taste in my mouth. I sold the place. Opened this here little eatery instead.”
Juliette needed a moment to allow the shock to settle. She’d known of Father’s contempt for James McCord, of course, but the depth of the hate mortified her. Did Father have any idea how many lives he’d hurt because of it?
Humbled, saddened, confused, she pressed a hand against her unsettled stomach. “I don’t know what to say.”
“No need to say anything. But whatever you’re thinking, I hope you know everything we’ve told you is the truth. I’ve never lied to you,” Tru said.
Miserable, Juliette’s gaze fell to her empty glass. “No.”
He’d done nothing to deserve the heartache and pain of what Father had done to him or Ryan. No wonder the McCords despised the Blanchards.
The restaurant had begun to fill with patrons, and Stan rose from his chair. “I’d best head back into the kitchen. It was real nice meeting you, Miss Blanchard. Hope the next time we see each other, we’ll have something more pleasant to talk about.”
She frowned. “I doubt there’d be anything worse.”
“I’m sure you’ll find your sister in no time.” Concern furrowed his bushy brow; he turned to Tru. “Anything I can do to help?”
Tru withdrew a few coins from his hip pocket and dropped them on the table. “Not at this point, but thanks. We’ll head to the hotel first to see if she’s there.”
Camille. Juliette had completely forgotten about her. She quickly pushed her feet back into her shoes and rose. Giving Stan a final wave, Tru took her elbow and ushered her to the door.
“I suppose you hate me all over again,” he said in a low voice.
“I need some time to think this through.”
“Anyone would.”
“And I don’t hate you. But if I find out what you’re saying is pure slander against Father—”
“You won’t,” he grated.
“—then I shall never forgive you.”
A tall cowboy with graying sideburns and a matronly woman at his side entered the restaurant. Seeing Tru, a wide grin appeared on the man’s face, and they shook hands. Tru introduced the couple to Juliette as Cal and Esther Workman, one of the ranchers in the area.
“How the heck are you, Tru?” he asked. “Been meaning to pay a call on you.”
“I’m good, Cal. Real good.” Tru glanced at the woman. “Esther, don’t tell me he’s giving you a night out from the kitchen.”
“He is,” she said, smiling. “We’ve been shopping for Christmas all afternoon. He knows better than to bring a tired wife home who won’t want to cook when she gets there.”
“No warm-overs for us here at Stan’s. We both win.” Cal winked at his wife, before he turned serious with Tru again. “Been thinking of your cows. Have any calved yet?”
Pride shown in Tru’s expression. “One so far. Just this morning. Born perfect, too.”
“You know I’m interested in building up my stock with your bull’s bloodline. Mind if I stop out sometime after the holidays? I’m hoping we can do some business.”
“Anytime. You know that.”
“I’ll do it. See you soon, then.”
After a round of good-byes, Juliette and Tru left. If his friendship with the Workmans were any indication, Tru had long since moved on from the scandal her father had caused. He was a different man than James McCord. Honest and hard-working. It seemed Tru had begun to build a name for himself as a respected stockman as well.
No wonder his land was so important to him.
Juliette fell into a troubled silence, walking beside an equally silent Tru. Was he reliving that terrible time like she was? Did his hate for her father rear its ugly ahead all over again? Would she ever be able to make amends for what Avery Blanchard had done? The vindictiveness and hate that had consumed him, so much he’d see another man ruined? Should she even try?
And worse, did Tru see her father in her? After all, she was so much like him. Even her own sister said so.
Endless questions pounded inside her head. Before she knew it, they’d reached the Paxton Hotel. Tru guided her into the lobby.
“Let’s check with the desk clerk. Maybe he’s seen Camille,” he said.
“Yes,” she murmured.
After giving him a quick description of her, the young clerk nodded in recognition.
“Yes, she was here, oh, about an hour ago.” He smiled. “Guess she’d left without her room key earlier this afternoon. She stopped at the desk to get another.”
Juliette pressed a hand to her breast in relief. “She looked well, then?”
“Very well. The gentleman with her seemed quite smitten, if you know what I mean.” The clerk grinned.
Juliette’s mouth pursed. “That would be Ryan.”
“Yes, I believe that’s what she called him,�
�� the clerk said.
“She’s probably in the room then.”
“I’m afraid not. They left again, shortly after they stopped by the desk. I don’t know where they went. They had no reason to tell me.”
“No. Of course not.”
If only they had.
Well, at least Camille was with Ryan. They were most likely at dinner now. It’d been their plan, after all, and as excited as Camille had been, there didn’t seem to be a logical reason for them to cancel. Juliette would just have to wait a little longer to see her.
But...dinner together. A sure sign Ryan was taking the opportunity to court Camille.
Knowing she was safe didn’t change Ryan’s intentions. Were they discussing marriage at this very moment? Had they already made plans for Camille to stay here, in Omaha? Or would he suggest she go back to New York to give them all a little more time to adjust to the idea?
“I told you Ryan would take care of her,” Tru said, his tone gently chiding as he led her to the hotel’s stairway. “They’re fine. They’re happy. Let them have their time together.”
“Maybe you’re right.” Pausing at the foot of the stairs, she pulled his jacket from her shoulders and handed it to him.
He hooked the garment over his shoulder with a finger. His shadowed gaze turned grim. “Hearing about your father was tough. Maybe I should’ve have spared you.”
“No. It was important for me to know. The past is past. I can’t change the way he was or all that he did.” Strangely reluctant to have her time with Tru end for the evening, she reached up and touched his cheek. “Thanks for the wine. And thanks for staying with me when I was tired and worried about Camille. You escorted me back here when you could have gone back to Gaylene.”
He grunted. “First I thought of her until now.”
“Is it?” Somehow, that pleased her.
“I’ll walk you up to your room.”
“There’s no need. I’ll be fine.”