Love Under Two Mavericks

by Cara Covington

  Michaela shook her head. No wonder so many of the newcomers who arrived in Lusty stayed. Who would not want to be a part of the kind of community this was? Close knit, caring, and inclusive. Sounds more like the town should be called Paradise than Lusty.

  While they were on the way to meet with the authorities on her land, Laci called to let her know that Gord had towed her car out to his shop and would replace the starter that day. She also told her to take as much time as she needed to take care of business.

  “Thanks, Laci. I don’t think I’ll need more than today. The town’s leased us a house. I just need to buy a few clothes and personal things.”

  “Take what you need, girlfriend. We all know how much that place meant to you.” She heard the smile in Laci’s words.

  “Thank you.” It had meant the world to her. Until two men named Benedict had entered her life and showed her where her heart truly lay.

  Michaela slid her phone back into her pocket. “Best decision I ever made was to come back home to take care of my dad. The second best? To let people in, beginning with the two of you.”

  “We think so, too.” Lewis picked up her hand and kissed it then set it on his thigh.

  “I do feel bad about the fact that after all the work y’all put in on that house yesterday that some asshole had to come and burn it down.”

  “We all had a good time, sweetheart. So consider it practice for when we start building our new house from scratch.”

  * * * *

  Lewis turned the truck onto Michaela’s road. Randy made sure he had a firm grip on her hand. When they crested the small hill, she stiffened. They all saw the charred ruins and several official vehicles, as well as a canvas shelter on poles, set up to the right of the house.

  Michaela inhaled deeply then exhaled slowly. “Wow. That’s…just wow.”

  “That’s a tough thing to look at, baby girl. Take a moment,” Lewis said.

  A single tear ran down her cheek, and then she inhaled deeply again. “I’m okay. You guys are here, so I’ll get through it.” She gently tugged on her hand, and when he released her, Randy handed her a tissue.

  He caught Lewis’s nod of approval. One of the things Randy appreciated about his best friend—his brother—was the way that, between the two of them, they made the perfect mate for their woman.

  Lewis parked by the barn. Once they were feet on the ground, Randy held Michaela’s right hand while Lewis picked up her left. Michaela set the pace as they walked toward the shell of her house.

  Grant and Andrew Jessop were crouched in a spot in the back half of the house and appeared to be looking at something that he couldn’t see.

  “I can’t really tell where that is,” she said softly. “Dad’s room?”

  “Or maybe the hallway,” Randy said.

  “That area is—was—part of the new addition. Of course, new is relative. My Grandpa Nick added on to the original home sometime in the first half of the previous century.”

  “You couldn’t really tell there’d been an addition,” Lewis said.

  “I think he did some work on the inside of the smaller, older part first before adding on. Dad told me some about it, though he himself hadn’t been born yet.”

  Cops and investigators, some in uniform, had gathered around the table sheltered by the canvas. Randy recognized Adam Kendall and Matthew Benedict, as well as Jake Kendall. There was another cop, a state police officer as well.

  “Hey, guys.” Adam nodded. “This is Clint Parrish, a sergeant with the DPS. Since this property is technically outside of Lusty’s jurisdiction, I tagged Clint last night.”

  Lewis shook hands with the man, as did Randy. Michaela nodded to him.

  “Hey, Clint.”

  “How are you doing, Michaela?” Clint asked.

  Damnedest thing to be jealous just because another man knows my woman. He’d have felt embarrassed about the situation, except for two things. By his posture and the look on his face, he knew Lewis felt the same—and both Adam and Jake sent them knowing smirks.

  “I’m good, thanks. I can say again what I said last night and mean it with all my heart this morning. We’re safe, and that’s the most important thing.”

  Michaela seemed oblivious to their reaction to Parrish, which Randy figured could only be good.

  “You’re absolutely right, sweetie,” Jake said. “That is the most important thing.”

  Randy’s attention was drawn to one particular item on the table. “That’s the gas can you mentioned last night?” He nodded to something that looked like a piece of melted red plastic, with a bit of black on it. Currently the item was in a clear plastic bag, with writing on the front.

  “It was indeed,” Sergeant Parrish said. “I also have some news for you. We’ve made an arrest and have gotten a confession from the arsonist.”

  “Terry Gowan?” Randy asked. He’d been certain that poor excuse for a man had been at the heart of the trouble they’d had. In the next instant, Parrish shocked him—well, him and his brother.

  “Nope. That Mr. Gowan is currently in hospital in Waco.”

  “You’ve lost me,” Michaela said. “So, it wasn’t Terry? And why is he in the hospital?”

  “No, the younger Mr. Gowan is not your arsonist. We’ve arrested his father. After Adam tagged me, I went to question Terry Gowan. The door was opened by Mr. Devlin Gowan, who said his son was in bed sleeping, because he wasn’t feeling well.” Clint shook his head. “I smelled the scent of gasoline on him even as the old man was trying to prevent me from entering the home.” He put his hands on his hips and gave her a wink, which just pissed Randy off.

  “I insisted on entering to conduct a ‘welfare check.’” The slight smile he wore vanished. “The younger Mr. Gowan was indeed in his bed and had trouble waking up. Not because he was ill but because he’d been drugged.

  “I don’t have the entire story yet,” Clint said. “But Devlin Gowan apparently slipped his son something to ensure he slept through the night and didn’t awaken to find his father had left the house and had taken his car—and driven here and set fire to your house. So far, the only thing he’s said was that he’d been certain you weren’t here, that the house was empty, because your car was gone. He didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt or to be in peril.”

  “That only means you can’t charge him with attempted murder,” Adam said.

  “Watch me,” Clint replied. “The charges are already being written up.”

  “How’s Terry?” Michaela’s face showed her concern. He’d known, of course, that she’d had trouble believing that the man could have set fire to her home. Randy figured he and Lewis would both end up eating a little crow on that one.

  “He’s going to be all right. The doctors want to keep him for a full twenty-four hours, because that apparently wasn’t the first time he’d been assaulted by an unwelcome drugging. Adam told me about the other little bits of mischief you endured recently. I think Devlin Gowan was acting on his own and was, in fact, behind it all.”

  “But why?”

  “That’s the question, isn’t it? Why you? Or was it this house, because, apparently, it was Devlin who wanted this property. He wouldn’t tell me why and demanded a lawyer. I’ve not questioned Terry yet, but I will, soon.”

  “We just found something interesting.” Grant and his brother, Andrew, approached carrying something metal and square. They set it on the table. It was a fireproof safe.

  “Did your father have a secret trap door in the house?” Randy asked Michaela.

  “Not that I ever saw,” Michaela said. “Shortly after I moved in, I scrubbed all the floors in his bedroom and my own as well as the hallway. An on my hands-and-knees kind of scrubbing. I would have seen something in the flooring if there had been a trap door. That’s where you found that, isn’t it?”

  “According to the copy of the blueprint that was on file with the county, it is,” Grant said.

  “I don’t know what to say,” Michaela said.
<
br />   “Well, this was under even the subfloor,” Andrew said. “And it was tucked inside a cubby hole carved out of the cement foundation. It could very well be there was no trap door. Could be whoever placed it there only meant for it to be found once the house came down.”

  Michaela tilted her head. “Then whatever that is,” she said, “was put there by my grandfather, Nicodemus Powell. He built that part of the house, sometime in the 1940s, I think.”

  “I’m assuming then that you don’t have a combination to open the thing?” Adam turned to Jake. “Did Harold ever tell you about a buried safe?”

  “No, and my sense is, if he knew about it, he’d have told me.” Jake looked at Michaela. “As I mentioned, your dad and I became friends, of a sort. He liked to talk.”

  “It’s your property, Michaela,” Clint Parrish said. “So that’s yours, too, no matter who put it there.”

  “Thank you. But I’m thinking that box might hold a clue as to why Devlin Gowan wanted this place so badly.” She looked at Lewis then up at him.

  Randy knew what their woman wanted. Lewis nodded.

  “Go ahead and open it, Sergeant Parrish,” Randy said. “Let’s see what we have, there.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Clint Parrish and Adam Kendall were careful opening the safe. They showed a great deal of patience. They also had Matt making a video of the event, as part of what they called the chain of evidence.

  Finally, they were able to pry the lid up. Inside, was an envelope, with the words “Powell Family” written on it.

  Clint looked at her as he reached for the envelope, and she nodded. She had no problem with his looking at it first. He opened the envelope and drew out three more smaller envelopes.

  “This one says Gabriel Powell, and this one says Nicodemus Powell…and this last one is addressed to a future Powell.”

  She reached for the last one first. “Gabriel was the son of Jonas, the first Powell to settle this land. Nicodemus was my Grandpa Nick, Gabriel’s son.” She smiled when she thought of the old man, who’d died before her brother, Daniel. He used to put her on his lap and read her stories.

  She looked up at the faces surrounding her and at the men who she knew, no matter what, had her back. “It was Grandpa Nick who named that big old live oak the Legacy Tree.”

  Then she tore open the letter she’d taken from Clint. She read it aloud.

  “To a future Powell,

  “This day I held my baby boy, Harold, in my hands for the first time. His momma, my Millie, is doing well. My heart is full of hope for the future and joy. So much joy. What a blessing after the darkness of the war that the world, and me, just finished up with. The signing of a treaty gave the world piece, and now this small babe has given peace to me. This is what life should be, and by damn, I’m going to make sure that this son of mine, and any future sons and daughters and grandchildren, have a chance for their own joy. I will not pass on the ‘burden of the soul’ that my grandpa Jonas passed on to my father, Gabriel, and which he, in turn, passed on to me.

  “I’ve made a decision. I have to build on to this house, anyway, and I have actually started the process. I’ve framed out where the concrete is going to be poured for the base on which I’ll add a couple of bedrooms on the downstairs level.

  “And it is in this pad I will secure this letter, and the ones bequeathed me by Gabriel and Jonas, my father and grandfather. I’ll never forget the secrets they left me to carry. I have only to look at the Legacy Tree to remember. But I can hold those secrets. Let there be no more stains on any Powell’s soul.

  I’ll tell my boy, as he grows older, that the tree that now is taller than all the rest is our Legacy Tree, a symbol of pride in the accomplishments of this branch of the Powell family—the branch descended from Jonas Powell. And it will be a symbol of hope, for the future generations of souls who choose to embrace this land.”

  Nicodemus Jonas Powell

  March 15, 1946

  “Burden of the soul.” Michaela looked at Randy and then Lewis. “What could that mean?”

  “Read the others,” Clint said. “I have to admit I’m curious, too.”

  “I don’t know if I want to.” Michaela felt her cheeks heat. She had no idea why now she was wimping out.

  “I’ll do it, baby girl,” Lewis said.

  Clint met her gaze and lifted one eyebrow. She nodded. He handed Lewis the other two envelopes.

  The first one, written by Gabriel, was short and to the point.

  “This is your legacy, Nic, as it was mine on the death of my father. I’ve told no one. It’s all on you.”

  “That didn’t sound particularly friendly,” Randy said.

  “It didn’t,” Michaela agreed.

  “Sure piqued the curiosity, though, didn’t it?” Adam said.

  There were various noises of assent around the table. Lewis shrugged, then opened the final letter and read.

  “Gabriel,

  “I know I don’t have much time left. Your mama’s waiting for me to join her up in heaven, probably wondering what’s taking me so long.

  “Truth is, I have a burden on my soul, and I need to ease it some, I reckon, for St. Peter to let me into the pearly gates.

  “One night, fifteen years ago now, I was out with my telescope, the one my brother Shamus gave me before he headed out to see the world—just looking at the stars. You remember those nights? I’d found a good place for stargazing to be the small knoll, just by the well.

  “Motion caught my eye, and I used my scope to see what it was. I recognized my brother, Ezra. He had a horse-drawn cart and a couple men with him. They pulled in by that large live oak, jumped out, and started to dig. They worked those shovels like men possessed. Reckoned I knew why when they stopped their digging then unloaded what I knew was a coffin.

  “They dropped it into the ground then lifted the lid. And poured….I don’t have a clue what, but they emptied some bags of something into it. Not a body, unless they’d hacked up some poor soul to bloody pieces. Wouldn’t put it past Ezra. Then they squatted by it for a spell then covered whatever it was with dirt. That didn’t take long. Then they all got back into the wagon and rode off.

  “The next morning, I walked down in that direction, toward that live oak. Those boys did a piss-poor job of things, let me tell you. If anyone came looking, they’d know something—or someone—had been buried there. Over the next month, the rains came, and in time, you couldn’t tell the ground had been disturbed. You couldn’t tell that tree hid a secret. But I knew.

  “Not long after I’d espied him digging in the dark, I heard Ezra was in Waco, that he was working in the feed store there and staying upstairs in a room. But not once did he come to pay his respects to me and your ma. I never told her about what I saw that night. And I thought it had all been laid to rest when I heard that he, and that bad seed friend of his, Devlin Gowan, had been arrested for crimes committed in Missouri. The Rangers nabbed them, and they got shipped off to pay for their crimes.

  Son, I don’t know what’s buried beneath that tree. But this secret, and whatever is there, that’s your legacy now. Do with this secret what you will.

  Your pa,

  Jonas Abraham Powell

  September 10, 1895

  “Oh, God! Do you think there’s a body buried beneath that tree? That it’s been there all these years?”

  “Easy, sweetheart.” Randy brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. Then he rubbed his thumb over the spot. Lewis handed the letter back to Clint and placed one hand on her shoulder. Michaela didn’t understand it, but just that much, their touch—his and Lewis’s—always had the power to calm her.

  “We’ll find out,” Clint said. “I’m sorry, Michaela. That means…”

  He did look regretful. And then she understood what that meant. “You have to dig up my Legacy Tree?”

  “Well, we have to dig,” Clint said. “We need to see if there are human remains, and if so, then, next of kin will need to b
e notified. But I can’t imagine Devlin Gowan would be wanting this land just because his great-grandfather buried a body here. Can you?”

  Michaela shook her head. “I don’t know what to think. Except for one thing. I think Terry should be here with us when you do that. He’s as much a victim in all of this as I am.”

  “We’ll need a day or so to get in touch with the experts we’ll need, anyway,” Clint said. “And to see if we can locate where exactly to dig.”

  “We can likely get the equipment you need for that,” Adam said. He took the letters and set them back into the box. “We’re just going to keep this as evidence for now.”

  “For now?” Michaela tilted her head to one side. “What does that mean?”

  “It’s only evidence if there’s a body buried there or proof of a crime having been committed,” Clint said. “From the letter Jonas Powell left, the only crime documented was one of trespassing.”

  She took a moment to review in her mind the contents of the letter. “Huh. You’re right.”

  Clint grinned. “We’ll let you know when we’re ready to move forward with this.”

  * * * *

  Of course, they accepted Jenny’s invitation to come to supper. Lewis just hadn’t realized that the house would be crowded with all the family—Benedict, Kendall, and Jessop—that showed up. Now they’d all plowed through an enormous amount of ribs and wings and burgers, salads, and beans. They’d used paper plates, so there wasn’t much more than the cutlery to clean up afterwards. Chairs had been brought into the great room from the dining room, making the room seem cozy.

  “I figured this would be better than the roadhouse because that’s work for us—and as much as we enjoy it, a break’s good.” Jenny handed Michaela a tall glass of sangria.

  “Thank you, little sister.” Lewis had come to love his sister-in-law. In fact, he could honestly say there wasn’t a member of the family here in Texas that rubbed him the wrong way.