Thunder at Dawn

by Jill Gregory

  Patti’s eyes clouded. “He was medium height . . . I think. I could . . . only remember his eyes . . . they were brown.”

  Bayman had brown eyes. Faith’s stomach clenched. “That’s great, Patti. That helps. Don’t think about it anymore now. Just get your strength back. For you and for the baby.”

  “I . . . know. I have to . . .” Patti’s eyes closed. For a moment Faith just stood beside the bed, looking down at her and remembering the bloodied heap she’d found on the floor . . .

  Suddenly, Patti opened her eyes. Tears filled them and streamed down her cheeks. “Faith. I’m . . . scared,” she said, her voice breaking. “I . . . I can’t lose my baby . . .”

  “You won’t, Patti.” Faith took her hand and gently squeezed her fingers. “Your baby is strong. Like you, like Bob. Remember that. Your baby’s going to be just fine.”

  But she knew those were only words. And Patti knew it too.

  “Say a prayer for the baby,” Patti whispered, clutching her hand. “Please.”

  Tears blurred Faith’s eyes. She nodded, her throat aching. “I will. Right now. You just hang in there and try to sleep. Bob will be back soon and Bessie’s right outside.”

  Patti nodded almost imperceptibly. Her eyes drifted closed again.

  When Faith left the hospital room, her heart was trembling. The hallway felt too noisy and crowded. She had promised Patti—she had to say a prayer—and she wanted a quiet spot.

  Drawing a breath and giving Bessie and Ada a wan smile, she slipped toward the elevator. But Roy stood up from a molded plastic chair in the hall and fell into step beside her.

  “Go home, Roy. You should be with Corinne. Who knows what this lunatic is going to do next?”

  “Yeah, well, it would be a lot easier to keep an eye on both of you at once, cuz.”

  “I’m just going down to the chapel. Zach will be back soon, and he made me promise not to leave the hospital without him. So there’s nothing to worry about, okay?”

  “No, it’s not okay. I don’t feel a whole helluva lot better about you and Zach McCallum than I do about you and some maniac with a homicidal grudge. You think I don’t remember how much he hurt you?”

  “You think I’m not old enough to take care of myself?” She stopped at the elevator and punched the button. “Roy, I’m twenty-nine, not twelve. Give it a rest.”

  “The guy’s bad news, Faith, and you know it. Trouble’s always followed him and that hasn’t changed. He has a lot of enemies in this town. Wood Morgan is dead set against Zach leasing his land to that camp outfit, and he’s got some power hitters lined up behind him. And a lot of folks here in town haven’t forgotten what Zach did to Pete Harrison.”

  The elevator doors opened and Faith stepped in, keeping a tight-lipped silence as Roy followed her.

  “You know as well as I do that you’re on shaky ground if you hook yourself up with McCallum, Faith. I’m your family, and if Ty and Adam were here they’d both want me to protect you—from Bayman and from Zach—”

  “Don’t forget the bogeyman,” she said, stepping off the elevator on the first floor and turning left toward the chapel near the lobby doors.

  As Roy started to follow, she stopped in her tracks and faced him.

  “Roy, I don’t need a chaperon. Go home to Corinne and take care of her. If I need a babysitter, I’ll give you a call.”

  She kissed him quickly on the cheek and opened the door of the chapel. For a moment she was afraid he would follow her inside, but to her relief, he shook his head and started toward the exit.

  With relief she closed the chapel door and walked slowly into the small paneled chamber resonant with deep, peaceful silence.

  She was only dimly aware of the altar, the candles, the quiet maroon carpeting, the pamphlets of prayers spread on a table, representing a variety of religions. Mostly she felt the stillness surround her, as warm and comforting as a lovingly crafted, handmade coat.

  Faith sank down on a maroon padded bench and closed her eyes. Patti’s pale face and weak voice filled her mind.

  I’m scared . . . I can’t lose my baby.

  Her heart brimmed with pain.

  Please, God. Please let Patti’s baby survive.

  Her cheeks were wet with tears. But there was still hope for this child. Still a chance.

  Faith bent her head, closed her eyes.

  And with every ounce of strength in her heart, she prayed.

  Zach had never expected to find himself in Wood Morgan’s office at the Circle M cattle ranch, ten miles from the Morgans’ Crystal Horseshoe Dude Ranch. But around seven this morning, he’d decided it was time to make a move—even one as unprecedented as this one.

  He didn’t care for the ugly direction a lot of things were going in Thunder Creek, and it seemed a worthwhile risk to take a stab at turning some of that around.

  True, compromise went against his nature—maybe that was something that ran in families—but experience had taught him that a bit of give-and-take can sometimes make all the difference.

  For his own kid, and for those who’d benefit from a few weeks at summer camp in the West, he’d take a chance.

  Of course, that didn’t guarantee that Wood Morgan would have the brains to meet him halfway.

  If not . . . to hell with him . . . they’d do this the hard way.

  But it was worth a try, Zach thought as he stared Morgan in the eye. Better for those kids if they were made welcome instead of to feel that they were unwanted and the target of hostility. Better for Dillon if he didn’t have to deal with fallout from a fight that had nothing to do with him, if he could just be a kid and make his own friends—and enemies, if need be. Minus his father’s baggage.

  “In the interest of peace, I’m prepared to offer you a compromise,” Zach told Wood evenly.

  A grin spread across the other man’s face. “I knew you’d come around.”

  “Call it whatever the hell you want. I’ve got more important things to worry about right now than you and your stooges. In case you haven’t noticed there’s a killer on the loose. I want this over.”

  Wood nodded. “You’re worried about Faith, aren’t you? She’s right in the center of this, from what I heard. I guess for the two of you, the fire never died, huh?” He chuckled. “Who knew you’d turn out to be such a romantic, McCallum?”

  “Shut up, Morgan. My personal life is none of your concern. You stick your nose in with Faith, with my son, with anyone who works for me, I’ll bloody it.” Zach’s tone was calm, but there was no missing the flint in his eyes.

  Wood was accustomed to saying what he pleased, to whomever he pleased, but something in those steely eyes gave him pause.

  “Fine.” He cleared his throat. “I got it. No need to get your dander up. So you’re willing to forget about the camp and sell me the land after all?”

  “What I’m offering you is a compromise, not a capitulation. I’m throwing you a bone, Morgan, and if you’re smart, you’ll take it.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  Leaning back in the chair opposite Wood’s desk, Zach watched the other man thoughtfully. “I’m willing to sell you a quarter of the land you wanted. By my calculations, that’s enough to build roughly a dozen condos, up to two thousand square feet apiece. If you go smaller, you can build closer to two dozen. It’s beautiful country, prime real estate. Your rich guests will love it. But you’ll have to forget about the fancy spa, or else build it within your current property. The camp will lease the other three-fourths of the land from me as planned. There’ll be a mile of grassland separating the two. And those kids will be welcomed in town, with no obstacles or backhanded propaganda out of you. Take it or leave it.”

  Angrily, Wood shoved back his chair and stood up, bristling. “What the hell kind of offer is that? I want to build thirty condos and the spa—right where my architect planned them.”

  “Too bad. This is a one-time offer. Yes or no.”

  The other man flushed, ange
r suffusing his face. “I thought you wanted peace. I thought you wanted not to have to worry about my petition.”

  “Don’t forget about bomb threats to my business.”

  Wood never blinked. “I don’t know anything about that.”

  “Yeah. Sure.” Zach snorted.

  “Be reasonable, McCallum. We’re two of a kind, both of us movers and shakers. We can coexist peacefully, or eat each other alive. It’s your choice.”

  “Correction.” Zach’s eyes glinted silver. “TexCorp oil can buy and sell this ranch and your dude ranch and your real estate businesses ten times over. If I choose to play rough, you’ll feel it. I’m not interested in throwing my weight around, but if I have to, I will. Now I’ve offered you a compromise to avoid all-out war. But I guarantee you, Morgan, if you start one, I’ll finish it.” Zach’s eyes were colder than any blizzard to hit Thunder Creek in the past century.

  “For the last time,” he said, his gaze nailing the other man’s. “Take it or leave it. Now.”

  The fierce, calm determination in Zach’s face made Wood Morgan bite back the urge to order the man off his property. McCallum definitely wasn’t the same hot-headed kid he’d once been. He was tough, he was hard, he was cunning. He didn’t think with his fists, but with his head. And his stock holdings. And his bank account.

  And from everything Wood had seen thus far, he was beginning to realize Zach McCallum would make a much better ally than enemy.

  “Half and half,” Wood countered abruptly.

  Zach started toward the door. “One quarter of the land under question. Final offer.” He paused with a hand on the doorknob.

  “Damn it.” Wood fingered his mustache, thinking furiously. His desk phone rang, but he ignored it, staring at McCallum, taking his measure one last time.

  Hell, a dozen condos at three thousand a week, fifty-two weeks a year, were better than none. And he could always build the spa off the main complex of the Crystal Horseshoe. Tammie had preferred that option from the start.

  He hated losing, though—at anything. Still, this fight with McCallum would be costly—in time and aggravation. And if he ended up losing anyway, all he’d have to show for it was a powerful new enemy.

  “Done.” He came around the desk, held out his hand. “How about a drink to seal it?”

  “No, thanks. Too early for me.” Zach shook his hand. “I’ll have my attorney draw up the papers. You call off your attack dogs, especially Gallagher and Harrison.”

  “Harrison’s a loose cannon,” Wood warned. “I’ll do what I can, but . . .”

  He was talking to dead air. McCallum had walked out.

  Zach reached for his cell phone the moment he was in his pickup. He wanted to call Faith, let her know he was on his way back to the hospital, make sure she stayed put.

  Only then did he remember that she didn’t have a cell phone anymore. Keene had impounded it.

  Damn. He hit the accelerator and the truck peeled up the Circle M drive.

  Through the open window he heard a far-off boom.

  It sounded like an explosion.

  Chapter 24

  FAITH DIDN’T KNOW HOW LONG SHE SAT praying in the chapel, tears sliding down her face. But as she began wiping at her eyes, the door opened suddenly and she turned her head to see Owen slip inside.

  Walking slowly, he came to sit beside her. Her teary smile of welcome faded from her face as she became aware of his distraught expression.

  “Owen, what’s wrong?” Faith’s heart lurched. “It’s not . . . Patti? Not . . . the baby?”

  “No, no, Faith. There’s no news. I . . . I didn’t mean to scare you.” He swallowed hard. She’d never seen Owen look so bleak, and something in his eyes alarmed her.

  “What is it then? You look like . . . like someone died.”

  “I just . . . need to tell you something. If I don’t . . . I’m going to go crazy. With everything that’s happened, with you and Zach, and what happened to Candy—”

  His voice broke. “I should’ve gone outside with her,” he muttered thickly, head bent. “You know that, right? Everyone probably knows it. If I’d stayed with her—”

  “Owen, stop it. Stop it right now. It wasn’t your fault. Thunder Creek isn’t exactly Crime Central. You had no way of knowing it wasn’t safe for her to walk outside—”

  “Let’s see if you feel so charitably toward me when I say what I came here to say,” he interrupted, growing agitated. “Let me talk, Faith, before I lose my nerve!”

  She stared at him, her mouth dropping. Desperation and pain burned in Owen’s eyes.

  “It was me, Faith. All those years ago . . . when Pete was in that coma. I did it, Faith. I hit him. Not Zach.”

  Faith stared at him. Owen had hit Pete, put him in that coma? She struggled to take in the implications of what he was saying.

  “Zach wasn’t even there,” Owen went on, dropping his head into his hands. “He didn’t get there until later. He was the one who called the ambulance.”

  “But . . .” Faith shook her head. “I don’t understand. Pete was your best friend—”

  “We got into a fight.” Owen dragged his head from his hands and stared at her, his mouth twisted in a grimace.

  “Over Laurie Dubroski. A stupid fight because he was taking her to the dance that night, even though he knew I had wanted to ask her.” A strangled laugh came from his lips, but to Faith, it sounded like a sob.

  “I was furious. I went to my job that day at the gas station and all I could think about was what he’d done, about him and Laurie going to the dance together. Dumb, huh?” he asked bitterly, then went on in a grim tone. “I got madder and madder. And then Pete showed up right before the dance to fill his daddy’s pickup with gas, and I . . . I lost it.”

  In the quiet chapel, Owen’s eyes closed for a moment with the memory. “I lost it, Faith. I went crazy. Blame it on hormones or damned teenage stupidity or whatever the hell you want, but I hit him. I hit him as hard as I could.” He shuddered.

  “And that was it. He went down after one punch. He hit his head on the ground, and . . . and he didn’t move.”

  All this time—it was Owen, she thought dazedly. And he let Zach take the blame.

  “I shook him,” Owen continued, his voice quavering. “I tried to wake him up. His head was bleeding—I didn’t know what to do.”

  The words came faster. “I was scared to call an amubulance, scared Fred Harrison would fire my dad. We’d just found out the week before that my mom needed surgery, and my dad had to keep his job to pay the bills. And the last thing my parents needed right then was to have their kid arrested for assault, possibly for murder. I panicked, Faith. I just knelt over Pete, and I cried, and begged him to wake up—and then Zach drove up.”

  Owen surged to his feet, his hands clenched at his sides. “I hate myself, Faith, more than you hate me. More than Zach must hate me.”

  “I don’t hate you and I’d bet Zach doesn’t either. But it’s time to do the right thing.” She rose and stared directly into his eyes. “You owe it to Zach and you owe it to yourself.”

  “I know.” His voice was thick. “I’m going to tell Harrison. I’ll go today, right now.” He closed his eyes for an instant and his face looked gray in the dim light of the chapel.

  “And the whole town will know by tonight,” he muttered to himself, rocking back on his heels.

  Despite everything she’d heard, despite the lie he’d kept secret for all these years, Faith’s heart went out to him.

  “I think you should wait and take someone with you,” she said slowly. “I’m worried about how Harrison might react. You shouldn’t go alone—”

  “No. No more waiting.” Owen hugged her shoulders quickly then lurched away, his tone determined. “I have to get it over with—and I need to do it myself, Faith!”

  “Owen—”

  But he sprinted toward the chapel door. Faith hurried after him. Owen was wracked with guilt—and Fred Harrison might very well
be wild with anger. Not a good combination.

  She called to him as he ran down the hallway, but he never slowed. She saw him push through the doors leading out to the street and followed him outside. He was already darting toward his car, parked across from the real estate office down the street.

  She was debating whether to go after him, to try to persuade him to wait, when a deputy appeared out of nowhere and stepped right in front of her.

  “Ms. Barclay, I’ve been looking for you. Acting Sheriff Keene wants to see you in his office.”

  “Fine—later. I have to catch someone—”

  “No, ma’am.” Politely, the deputy moved to block her path. He was tall, muscular, and determined for all of his quiet civility. “I have orders to bring you in right now. You’ll have to come with me.”

  Faith started, her gaze swinging to his clean-shaven face. He wasn’t one of the deputies that had come to the cabin after Candy’s murder, but he looked vaguely familiar.

  “Am I under arrest?” she demanded irritably. Her glance shifted back toward Owen, and she swore silently. He was already in his truck, gunning the engine, and as she watched, he roared away.

  “Damn.”

  The officer ignored her muttered oath. “You’re not under arrest, ma’am,” he said patiently. “But you need to come with me right now. Acting Sheriff Keene will explain when you get there.”

  The deputy had neatly cut brown hair and earnest, ordinary brown eyes. He looked like a nice kid, and there was only a hint of sternness in his long jaw. Young, inexperienced, trying hard.

  “I’ll bring you right back here to the hospital when you’re finished, Ms. Barclay.”

  “Fine, but I need to make a phone call as soon as we get there.”

  “No problem, ma’am.”

  He was parked at the end of the hospital parking lot. Faith hurried alongside him, anxious to call Zach and alert him to what was going to happen at the Harrison place any moment now—and also to let him know where she’d gone. If he came back to the hospital and she wasn’t there, he’d think the worst.