Ransom Canyon Page 15

  “I haven’t been out here for a few nights, Mr. Kirkland. If I ever did see something, you’d be the first to know.”

  The boy was still looking directly at his boss, not the sheriff.

  Brigman moved closer. “Exactly what night were you last here, Lucas? Two, three, four.”

  “It was Saturday night, Sheriff Brigman.”

  “Before or after you visited Tim O’Grady?”

  Staten didn’t miss Lucas’s surprise, but he didn’t hesitate. “After.”

  “Did you see anything out of the ordinary?” The sheriff moved between Staten and the kid. “Like someone who shouldn’t have been on this land.”

  “No, sir.”

  “Were you alone?” Brigman snapped.

  For a blink the kid glanced his direction, and Staten saw the boy panic, then Lucas straightened his shoulders as if preparing to take a blow straight on.

  “Yes, sir,” he said. “I always come out here alone. With five brothers and sisters, I like the silence of this back pasture, and Mr. Kirkland doesn’t mind that I walk across this corner of his land.”

  Staten had never considered himself a mind reader, but he understood his men. He knew the cloth they were made from. Lucas was a hard worker. The other men liked him. Staten had seen them kid him about still being wet behind the ears one minute, then turn around to help him the next. He’d also seen Lucas help others, even working overtime to make sure they got their job done.

  Staten would bet his ranch on two facts. First, Lucas Reyes hadn’t killed the bull. Surely, even the sheriff could see that there wasn’t a dent in Reyes’s truck. And the second fact he knew beyond any doubt was that Lucas Reyes had just lied to a county sheriff.

  Since the sheriff looked as though he had more questions and Staten figured the discussion was over, he slapped his hand on Lucas’s shoulder and said, “Walk with us. We’re looking for any clue that would tell us who could have plowed into my bull.”

  “Yes, sir.” Lucas joined Staten on the other side of the road from where the sheriff walked. “What exactly are we looking for?”

  “Glass, a fender, anything. Rain’s coming in tonight. If we don’t look now, a clue might be washed away.”

  Lucas smiled. “Whoever it was must have been going fast or was a complete idiot. Probably drunk or on drugs if he missed a bull.”

  “I agree,” Staten said. “You wouldn’t happen to know anyone who fits the description?”

  “No, sir.” Lucas hesitated then added, “It could be someone wanting to test how fast a car would go. Everyone knows these back roads aren’t likely to have radar on them.”

  “Good point.” The sheriff kicked at dirt as if he thought he might dig up something. “Could have been kids. They steal a car, go for a joyride.”

  Lucas glanced at Brigman. “You have any stolen cars turned in?”

  “No. If it was just joyriders, we would have found the wrecked car. They always leave it somewhere along the side of the road once it runs out of gas.”

  “That leaves someone testing out a new car,” Staten said to himself, thinking he knew of one person who’d gotten a car early last week for his birthday. Reid Collins. Only, Staten wasn’t going to suggest anything to the sheriff. Brigman would have to figure that out on his own, and he would. After all, he and half the county had been at the kid’s birthday party.

  Staten saw something shiny and knelt. Broken glass. Could be a headlight, but it was small, only a sliver.

  Brigman joined him. “Looks like they missed this piece. See the markings in the dirt. Someone swept the ground here. Probably cleaning up the wreck. A drunk wouldn’t do that.”

  “Blood,” Lucas yelled from ten feet in front of them. “Leading off that way.”

  Staten walked the blood trail. What happened was obvious. The vehicle had hit the bull where they found the glass. The bull had managed to wander off, bleeding for another hundred yards, before it died.

  Brigman got a call and rushed toward his cruiser. “I got to take this,” he yelled.

  Staring straight at the kid, Staten said, “I don’t think you had anything to do with this, Lucas, but I need to ask. Were you here last night?”

  “No, sir.” Lucas met his stare.

  “Then tell me why you lied to the sheriff about being alone out here a few nights ago.” Before Lucas could think about his answer, Staten added, “I don’t plan on telling anyone, but this is my land, and I need the truth from my men. The whole truth.”

  Lucas took a slow breath and met Staten’s gaze once more. “I couldn’t tell the sheriff I wasn’t alone the last time I was in this pasture. I was with his daughter.” He didn’t look away when he added, “We weren’t doing anything, sir. I just wanted to show her my favorite place to watch the stars.”

  Staten nodded. “You were wrong to lie, but I guess I might have done the same if I was facing my girlfriend’s father and he was armed.”

  Lucas grinned. “She’s not my girlfriend. At least not yet. We’re just friends.”

  Staten turned back to the road. The sheriff shouted that he had to get to town.

  As they watched the cruiser pull away, Staten issued a low order, “Take care of the west fence before dark.”

  “I will, sir, and thanks.”

  “For what? I’m a man of my word, Lucas. You be that, too.”

  “I plan to be.”

  Staten could almost see the future. This kid was going to make something of himself. “I’ve got more than twenty years on you, son, but let’s shake on something. We’ll never lie to each other. Between you and me, it’ll always be nothing but truth.”

  “Deal.” Lucas offered his hand.

  “Deal.” Staten shook on it. “Now get to work.”

  As the kid ran off toward his old pickup, Staten remembered how he used to say that Quinn and he were just friends. They’d gone far beyond that now, and he’d better find a way to mend a few fences, too, or this stubborn bull of a man would be walking his own blood trail alone until death took him.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Quinn

  QUINN STARED IN the mirror, looking for any signs that she was pregnant. Her breasts were a bit bigger and her tummy slightly rounded. With her height and slim build she could probably carry a child unseen into the fifth or even sixth month.

  She could handle three months of listening to folks ask questions. The answers were simple. Of course, the baby was hers. Yes, she knew who the father was, but that wasn’t anyone’s business. She planned to raise the child alone right here on her farm.

  In the days waiting for Staten to call, she’d figured out a few things during the silence. She might be shy and like keeping to herself, but she was strong. She could do this. She could have the baby and raise it herself.

  She’d thought of making up a story about how she’d had an old boyfriend show up for a few days, and she’d thought they might rekindle their love. But, she’d realized that they weren’t meant to be together. He’d already gone his own way, she’d say. He wouldn’t be interested in a baby, but she was.

  Quinn laughed. No one would believe such a ridiculous story.

  She never had an old love, and, with her luck, the kid would look exactly like Staten.

  Maybe she should leave for six months or so and come back with a ring and a kid. But there would be people who would do the math and realize she’d been pregnant when she left. Also, it was time to plant. She couldn’t leave the farm now.

  This was the twenty-first century, not a hundred years ago. No one cared where the father was, and everyone who loved her would love the baby. She wasn’t rich, but they’d never go hungry.

  Just as she finished dressing, someone pounded on her door. Quinn didn’t hurry. She knew who it was. The only surprise was that he’d take
n two weeks to come back.

  Walking through the house she saw Staten standing just beyond the screen door. Quinn found herself slowing so she could take him in for a moment longer. He was big, well-built, powerful-looking. His face was as cloudy as the storm rolling across the sky behind him, but even now she thought him the handsomest man she’d ever met.

  When she reached the door, she didn’t open the screen or invite him in. “If you’ve come to tell me to abort, you’re wasting your time. No matter what the argument, I wouldn’t.”

  He braced the sides of the door frame as if it were strong enough to keep him out. “You know I wouldn’t do that, Quinn.”

  She did know. She knew him better than anyone alive. “Then why are you here, Staten?” Quinn needed to hear the words.

  “I want to be in your life.” He paused as if he thought one sentence might work. When it didn’t, he continued, “I miss you. I need to help you with this baby or at least be around if you need me.”

  She still didn’t move.

  “I can’t handle the thought of losing you.” He pushed away from the door, walked a few feet, swore, and came back. “I don’t know the words to say. I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. I’ll be dead in a week if you don’t let me come in.”

  He looked so sad, she unlatched the screen.

  He stepped one foot inside and waited, his hat in his big hands.

  Quinn remained close. She wasn’t afraid of him, she never had been. “I know what you’re saying, Staten, but you hurt me too badly.”

  “It was the shock of it all.” He took a deep breath. “I hate not talking to you. You’re the only friend I have, Quinn.”

  She smiled. “I’ve no doubt. Folks say you’re hard as rock. Leaves me wondering if you’ll be any good for a baby.”

  “I’ll try. Truth is, I don’t know much about babies. Amalah’s mom moved in when Randall was born, and Granny drove over to help out almost every morning. Between working hard to get the place going and trying to stay out of my mother-in-law’s way, I don’t remember much from birth to the day he could talk.”

  He met her gaze. “I’d try harder if I had another chance. I swear I would.”

  Quinn shook her head. “I don’t want to hurt you, Staten, but I need time to think. We’re not two kids. I didn’t plan this, but now it’s here I want to experience every minute. I don’t want to make a decision that I’ll end up regretting.”

  He gave one jerk of a nod. “I understand. Do you want to know what I want?”

  “No,” she said softly. “Not yet, maybe not ever.” She guessed he’d suggest marriage and her moving over to the ranch. She wouldn’t fit in his world, and he’d never fit in this place. Or, he might not suggest they marry, and somehow that would be sad. He’d never said he loved her, but she knew she mattered to him. Maybe that’s how it would be with the baby, too. He’d come see their child. The kid would matter to him, but there would be no love involved, just a duty to take care of his responsibility.

  Kirkland men tended to marry outgoing women. For a hundred years, Kirkland women had taken leading roles in running the town and socials. The library was named after his great-grandmother. Kirkland money kept the museum going. His grandmother had run the chamber of commerce for years. Even Amalah had chaired several charities before she became ill.

  Quinn wasn’t the wife for Staten, and she never wanted his sense of duty to force them both into something they couldn’t live with.

  “Can we talk?” Staten carefully set his hat on the back of the nearest kitchen chair as if testing the waters. “Not about the baby, but just talk. I’ve missed you.”

  “Me, too.” She hadn’t really realized how much until she’d seen him standing at the door.

  “We could go into town for breakfast. I could buy you a cup of coffee if you’ve already eaten. It looks like rain, so we won’t get much done today anyway.” His low voice rumbled, echoing the distant thunder.

  She thought of all the times he’d offered to take her out and she’d said no, but somehow, this time it seemed right. “If I go, will you promise we won’t talk about the baby?”

  “If that’s what you want. You have my word.”

  She lifted her jacket from the hook by the door and walked out of her house without bothering to lock up.

  He followed her to his truck and opened the passenger side for her. “Need any help?”

  She swung up. “No, thanks.”

  They drove toward town talking of the weather. Both lived by the seasons. It was the last thing they checked at night and the first thing they checked in the morning.

  When he passed the high school, he recalled a few things that had happened when they were in school. Amalah and Staten had been seriously dating by the time they were all three juniors. Quinn swore she’d heard every detail of every date her best friend had with Staten.

  “Remember the time Amalah fell when all the cheerleaders were building a pyramid? I think it was the last football game of the season.”

  Quinn grinned. “I was in the band. It was halftime, and we were playing the school song when I saw her tumble. I stopped playing and ran out of line, but I couldn’t get to her.”

  “I was huddled up listening to the coach when I heard someone scream and turned to see her falling. I thought my heart would stop when she didn’t get up. I wanted to pick her up and make sure she was all right, but she had a crowd around her.”

  “After the game she laughed at us both for overreacting.” Quinn smiled. That was one of the few times she’d felt sorry for Staten because she knew exactly the fear he’d felt. In an odd way they shared Amalah. Over the years her loss was something they also shared.

  He covered Quinn’s hand with his. “She loved us both, you know.”

  “I know. She had shone so bright during those years. I always felt like a shadow next to her. I was never jealous, you know. I wouldn’t have wanted her life, and I’m guessing she wouldn’t have wanted mine.”

  To her surprise he shook his head. “No, Quinn, you’re wrong. You had talent. Real talent. Amalah once told me she wished she could play like you, and she was green when you got to go to New York to study. Miss Abernathy used to brag on you all the time. She’d say you were the brightest, shining star to ever grow up around here. Amalah was proud to be your friend, but I think she would have traded if she could have.”

  “Sure. Some star.” Quinn shrugged.

  “You’re just as bright, whether you play in New York or just for me. If you decide to teach, I think you’ll be great at that, too.”

  They pulled up to the café. He rushed around and helped her out of the truck. Neither bothered with opening an umbrella or even pulling up their hoods. The gentle rain made both smile.

  “Staten,” she whispered as they hurried inside, “don’t let me eat any bacon.”

  He raised an eyebrow and then seemed to figure it out. “Right.”

  The café was long past the breakfast crowd, and the waitress was new, so they ate in peace. He told her about the mystery of his murdered bull, and she talked about how she planned to change up her fields some this spring. She even planned to lease out the back forty acres of her land to the farmer behind her. “The lease will probably pay me more than any profit I could make growing lavender off the land.”

  If anyone had been there to listen in, they’d simply think that two old friends were having breakfast together. A farmer and a rancher talking about their problems with the land.

  When the waitress brought the breakfast plates, she commented that Dorothy piled on extra bacon. “She said when she saw you, Miss Quinn, she remembered you always ate double the bacon when you came in with your parents several years back.”

  Quinn thanked the waitress. Without a word Staten ate the bacon on both plates, making her smile. This hard businessman w
as doing his best to be charming.

  He drove her home and walked her to the porch.

  She said goodbye twice and thanked him for the breakfast, but he just stood there blocking her way into the house.

  When she could think of nothing else to say, she just stared.

  “I’m not leaving.” He set his hat down on the railing. “I have a promise to keep. I’ll kiss you goodbye first, then I’ll leave.”

  Since she was the one who’d made him promise, she couldn’t complain. She just waited.

  He took his time moving closer, placing his arms at her waist and tugging her against him. Then, tenderly, he kissed her.

  Quinn felt herself melting as the kiss deepened. There was something about how he held her just right, making her feel needed and cherished.

  When he finally ended the kiss, she didn’t step away. His hands moved over her back, and she wished this one moment might last forever. His words came to her low and loving. “I want to undress you, Quinn. I don’t want to talk or even think. I just want to hold you.”

  She understood all he wasn’t saying. Change was coming and like it or not, for better or worse, what they had would never be the same. She’d been his shelter for five years, and he’d been her rock.

  Without a word she took his hand and led him into the house and down the hallway. She stood in the shadows of the cloudy day and watched him slowly undress her. Silently he moved Quinn onto the bed and turned her on her side while he untied her braid. Then he lay beside her, letting his hand move over her hair and down her body.

  The air was damp and cool, so they cuddled under the covers when they began to make love as if for the first time...as if for the last time. A pure kind of loving without words. No agenda, only showing each other how much they cared.

  As she drifted to sleep in his arms, she felt his hand spread wide over her abdomen.

  Hours later, when she woke, he was gone. She tried to recall the last moment before she’d fallen asleep. Had he leaned down and kissed her tummy, or had she dreamed it?