Can't Stop Believing (HARMONY) (15 page)

A
T
NINE
IN
THE
MORNING
M
ARTHA
Q
FOUND
HERSELF
totally alone in the inn. All the widows went to the first-day sale at the Sears outlet store. Mr. Carleon left to stay with Marty in one of his usual pressed black suits. Bryce Galloway said he would be gone all day, and the housekeeper took Mrs. Biggs grocery shopping.

Martha Q wasn’t sure what to do. She hadn’t had the run of the house, completely alone, in months. She told herself she wasn’t a nosy person, but it seemed like a good time to look in every room. After all, it was her house.

She collected the master keys and decided to start on the third floor. Mr. Carleon’s room was perfect. Three black suits, an overcoat, and a half dozen white shirts were lined up in his closet. No color, she observed. All his personal things were lined up neatly in the three dressers. Underwear. Handkerchiefs. Socks. A black shaving kit. Several books were on the shelf by the bed, all in order of size. The man even made his own bed. He folded his underwear and left a thin bookmark in the paperback he was reading. No excitement, no surprises.

In Bryce Galloway’s room, she found the opposite. Nothing was picked up or cleaned. Dirty clothes scattered on the floor, the suitcase left open atop the dresser as if he didn’t realize he had drawers he could have used. The maid had already complained that his was the hardest room to clean. He’d left shaving cream and stubble in the sink, towels on the floor, water stains where his glass sat on the nightstand, and crumbs on the desk along with dirty dishes he’d carried up from the kitchen.

Leaving the door open so she could hear anyone coming up the stairs, she went through his belongings like a spy. Papers were piled on the desk, but they all looked like legal documents or geographic maps, except for one that had simple times written down.
6:10, 6:22, 7:03. All in by 7:15
, and so on. There was another list of times with initials beside them, but they made even less sense. Each time had an
A
or
B
before it, like he was keeping a log on two people or two houses at the same time. Galloway was watching people come and go, but who and from where had not been written down.

Martha Q fought the urge to call Tyler Wright again and fill him in on the details. Since the man had found out he was going to be a father, he didn’t seem to give his full attention so easily, but the funeral director was the only man she could think of who might be able to solve the riddle. Bryce Galloway didn’t belong here. He wasn’t one of them. From the look of him, he had enough money to stay at a grand hotel, not a little bed-and-breakfast in the old part of town.

Harmony had its share of nuts and odd characters, but Bryce was different. If there was a town somewhere where he’d fit in, Martha Q didn’t want to go there. Tyler Wright would listen to her and probably pat her hand and tell her she didn’t have anything to worry about. He’d be gone soon. After all, if he’d planned to stay, wouldn’t he have bought a house and not stayed at the inn?

She grinned, remembering how she’d driven by the funeral home a few days ago and seen Tyler helping his Kate out of the car. For a moment in the quiet morning air when they thought no one else was around, he’d kissed her cheek as he’d spread his hand across her swollen belly. If Hallmark could get that emotion of pure love on a card, they’d sell a million.

As she walked down the stairs, Martha Q decided she’d have to depend on the widows’ detective agency to find out more about Bryce. She’d put one of them on him from the time he left after breakfast until he returned. No, she’d better make them go in twos. One was bound to get distracted. Martha Q wanted to know where he went, who he talked to.

At the bottom of the stairs, the fat cat swore in cat talk when Martha Q tripped over him. Martha Q swung in an attempt to kick the cat, but Mr. Dolittle just walked away mumbling to himself. If cats really were reincarnated people, he must have been a bachelor. No woman would put up with him if he weighed more than twenty pounds.

“I might as well get dressed,” she said to no one. “I may have to do some investigating of my own. I’ll have to stop by the bookstore and buy a tablet first. He’s not the only one who can keep records.” If Bryce was keeping track of someone’s comings and goings, she’d bet it was for no good.

A
PRIL
4

C
ORD
SPENT
THE
MORNING
TRYING
TO
KEEP
HIS
MIND
ON
work. No matter how hard he pushed, there never seemed enough hours in the day, and now he had a feeling there wouldn’t be enough hours at night either. If Nevada was ever agreeable to it again, and she seemed to be, he’d die of exhaustion before he’d give up making love to her. At one point he was so wrapped in passion that lightning could have set fire to the bed and he wouldn’t have noticed.

But as the day aged, he told himself he didn’t have time to think about her and what they’d done at dawn. The ranch had more than its share of problems. One of the fences was down in the north pasture and cattle were everywhere, even on the county road. Galem said men had to stop their trucks and shoo a dozen cows away before they could get to work. An hour later they discovered that the pump to one of the main water supplies had broken.

To make matters worse, the day turned cloudy about eleven and so did his mood. Try as he did, he couldn’t keep his mind away from thoughts of Nevada. There were probably words he should have said to her before he left, but he had no idea what they would be. He found himself wishing for the night as thunder rolled in the distance. Wishing it could be just the two of them in the world again. She’d looked so adorable with her hair all wild and her little nightgown half falling off.

The thought of how Nevada felt in his arms returned again and again like a merry-go-round of pleasure circling in his mind. She’d lain back on the pillows and let him touch her, only moving slightly now and then when she showed her pleasure. He’d taken his time, learning every part of her. The softest spot just beneath her breasts and the way she laughed when he brushed his fingers down her spine. He loved the smell of her when she was warm and wrapped in the sheets. He loved the taste of her throat as he felt her pulse against his open mouth.

“You asleep, Cord?” Galem shouted above the thunder.

Cord jumped out of the way of a cow coming down the branding chute. A few men smothered laughter until Cord laughed at himself, and then full all-out teasing began.

“You’d think the boss was on his honeymoon,” one said.

“He does look like he needs sleep.”

“Got that calf-eyed look about him.”

“We’d better watch out for him or he’s liable to get trampled.”

“Maybe you should consider taking a nap somewhere besides where five hundred pounds of beef can knock you down.”

Cord grumbled, but he couldn’t hide the smile or even fake anger at the time they were wasting. Let them laugh; in a few hours he’d be going home to Nevada and it wouldn’t take long to get her back between the sheets.

“Let’s get back to work,” he ordered, and added to himself, “We’ve got loads to do before it rains.”

The men went back to business, and Cord forced his mind to focus on what he was doing.

Around one o’clock he ordered everyone to take a break. Galem handed him one of the sandwiches he’d packed for the men. They were too far from headquarters to go in, so sandwiches and lukewarm water would hold hunger at bay. The men broke into groups, most talking about plans for the weekend, while Cord sat down beside Galem.

“Wouldn’t do you no good to go back to headquarters for lunch anyway, Cord,” Galem said. “Ora Mae went to Amarillo with Little Miss. Phoned an hour ago to tell me they were in the middle of a shopping spree and would be lucky to make it in by six.”

Shaking his head, Cord admitted, “I don’t see why she likes to shop. I always hated it.”

“Ora Mae told me once that Nevada’s mother only showed her any attention when they shopped. She liked to dress the little girl up. I guess that was her way of showing love.”

Cord almost mentioned that Nevada was probably shopping for him, but he doubted she considered it a show of love in his case.

He took another sandwich. “Why do you call her Little Miss? She’s five seven before she puts on her heels. She’s not exactly a little miss.” He smiled, thinking of how his chin touched the top of her head.

“I know, but I remember the skinny little girl who followed me around when I came to work at the Boxed B. I was still in my teens when I quit school, my folks kicked me out of the nest. Helping out in the bunkhouse wasn’t just my first job, it was my only home. Back then Nevada’s father was running the place and he wanted men at the bunkhouse day and night. We didn’t just work hours, we signed on for the season. He was always pushing his three grown sons to cowboy up, but he ignored his half-grown daughter. Near as I could see, the boys followed his lead. I never saw them do anything but tease her or tell her how dumb she was ’cause she couldn’t keep up with them.”

Galem took a bite of his sandwich and continued, “I never heard the old man say a kind word to anyone. He mostly yelled at everyone, except Little Miss. To him, she wasn’t even there. He told me once that she was something his wife wanted, like she was nothing but a pet around the place. I didn’t know a lot, but I taught her to ride and tried to teach her to cook. Cooking lessons were a waste of time, but I never saw a kid love horses like she did and still does. She’d come home every summer and nag her mom until she got a new mare. She always said she’d raise horses to sell as show horses. Her mom gave in to her, kind of the anything-you-want-as long-as-you-go-away brand of raising a kid. By the time she was fifteen she was showing horses and winning every trophy around.”

“I’ve never seen a single trophy around the house,” Cord commented. “You would have thought they’d let her put them up somewhere.”

“That stepmother she had one summer tossed them all out, I bet. She even tried to get the old man to sell off Nevada’s horses. Only her daddy had promised Nevada’s mother before she died that he wouldn’t mess with them, and the old man kept his word. Maybe he figured as long as Nevada had the horses she wouldn’t spend much time at home. I swear that summer the step-witch was here, Nevada slept more in the barn than she did in the house.”

“Thanks for telling me.” Cord realized Galem must trust him to so openly talk about Nevada. “And thanks for yelling. That steer almost bloodied one of these shirts Nevada bought me. I was daydreaming on the job.”

“No thanks needed,” Galem answered. “I’m guessing you got a problem on your mind.”

“Right,” he managed to say as he looked up and saw the
problem
headed straight toward him in her grandfather’s old Jeep.

Swearing, Cord swung over the fence thinking he should have stripped all the gears except first so she couldn’t go over twenty. He headed toward the spot he hoped would be where she stopped before hitting the corral.

Her own little cloud of dust swirled around her as she hit the brakes and slid to within three feet of him.

Cord waited. He knew it wouldn’t be long.

She climbed out of the Jeep talking. It took his mind a few beats to catch up with her.

“Hold on now, Nevada. Take a long breath and start over.”

“What is the matter with you? Didn’t you hear what I said?” She folded her arms over her chest and stared at him as if he were brain dead. “I swear if I have to tell you everything twice, we’ll never finish a conversation.”

Cord moved closer and lowered his voice so none of the men could hear. “I just need time to get over the sight of you before I can think. You’re beautiful even when you’re upset.”

He fought the urge to kiss her. “I thought you weren’t on the ranch. I heard something about you going shopping.” He grinned. “You do look great in that sundress.” He closed his mouth and his eyes. He was starting to sound as scattered as she always did. Maybe being brain dead and chattering on about nothing was catching.

“The men are staring at us,” she whispered. Thunder rattled the air and the first raindrops plopped in the dirt, but she didn’t move.

“They’re staring at you and that cotton dress.” He’d thought she looked and felt great in silk, but now he couldn’t imagine anything finer than cotton brushing her legs.

“We need to talk. Something happened in town that I should tell you about.” She took his arm and pulled him toward the Jeep. “Go for a drive with me.”

“I can’t,” he started, as huge drops splattered around him. The sky darkened as if someone had turned down the dimmer switch on the world. Big drops of rain hit the hood of the Jeep like tiny bombs spraying inch-wide circles across the hot metal. “We need to finish here.”

Horses danced nervously as lightning flashed and the men scrambled for the rain slickers tied to their saddles. This wasn’t just a light afternoon shower coming; something strong was blowing in.

Cord turned back to his men. “Close it down, boys, and call it a day.” Even if the rain stopped soon, it would be too muddy to get much work done. He saw Zeb running for one of the horse trailers as the cowhands loaded up their mounts. Riding home in this storm might get horse and rider killed.

He put his arm over Nevada’s shoulder. “All right, let’s go talk, but I drive.” In the drafty old Jeep they’d both be soaked in minutes if they didn’t find cover fast.

As he circled the corral, he made sure all cowhands were loaded into trucks, horses were ready to move, and gates were closed. Cord didn’t want to come back in the morning to find fifty head of cattle wandering the west side of the ranch. He’d had enough accidents happen lately. So many, in fact, he was starting to think someone had it in for him, making trouble run double time. In the back of his mind the name of Bryce Galloway kept echoing even though he didn’t have an ounce of proof. He wouldn’t put it past the ex-husband to try to make things hard for Cord just for the fun of it.

Since Cord was closer to his farm than the ranch house, he headed down the dirt road toward his home place. He’d sold his old tractor and his horse trailer, hoping to make enough money to pay off the last of his loan. The buyer was supposed to pick both up yesterday. He’d left them parked in the yard between the house and the barn and had planned to drive over to his place today anyway just to make sure they were gone.

As they drove he could feel them racing the edge of the storm, and he guessed if he slowed it would catch them. Rolling down the window, he let damp air fly past him as lightning danced along the horizon. In this country it paid to watch the weather.

Nevada chatted about her trip to Amarillo and all she’d bought as he drove. He knew she wasn’t talking about what she needed to. She was nervous about something more than the lightning. Like him, she grew up with the sudden storms and knew to take cover.

When they turned onto his land, he slowed. The storm hadn’t caught up to them yet, and the last thing he wanted to do was accidentally flip the old Jeep in a pothole. He knew his place needed repairs, but somehow the Boxed B always drew his attention.

“You need to get the crew out working on this road.” She voiced his thoughts. “I don’t want you neglecting your farm. I always thought this was a nice place, like one of those pictures of what folks in cities think farmhouses should look like.”

He’d never thought of it that way. It had always been just a house. Even though he grew up there, it still seemed more his folks’ place than his.

“That’s not what you came out to talk to me about.” Cord was ready to hear whatever she had to say. “What brought you back from town so early?”

“There was another note on my car when I stopped at the mall. We weren’t there long and I saw no sign of him, but Bryce left it. I know he did.”

“Same words.”

She nodded. “Ora Mae said we’d better get back to the ranch. I was glad I wasn’t alone. I swear I could feel him watching us. It spooked us both.”

“You won’t be alone again. Until this guy stops
missing you
, me or one of the men will drive you anywhere you want to go.” He glanced her way and saw her open her mouth to argue, then stop.

“Agreed?” he pushed, knowing it sounded more like an order than a request, but he couldn’t just talk about her safety, he had to do what he could.

“You’re right. If I know Bryce, we won’t have long to wait. He had the attention span of a mosquito sucking tequila. He’ll either show up soon or move on. I should warn you, he’s a master at causing distraction and walking away like the victim. Once when he blacked my eye, Galem taught him a lesson. On the way to the hospital to get a few stitches, Bryce swore he’d see Galem in jail. When I begged him not to, he ran off the road. I was barely conscious when he shoved me behind the wheel and called 911. My injuries, as well as his, were written up as a car accident. The sheriff thought I was driving blind drunk, and he said he’d gone along hoping to stop me.” Nevada shook her head. “He put on such a show of begging the sheriff not to book me, even promising to hide the keys on the nights I drank.”

“Were you over the limit?”

“Probably, but I hadn’t been the one driving. Luckily, we were still on the ranch when the wreck happened. Private property saved me from a DWI.”

“You could have told the truth.”