Stranger in My House (A Murder In Texas) (25 page)

Chapter Thirty-Two

Kirby inspected herself in Frankie’s bordello-size mirror.

Shorts, T-shirt, sandals, hair neatly braided, a light brush of mascara, lip gloss. It felt good to be herself again. But it was the only thing that felt good.

She was leaving Shaw Valley Ranch today.

Below her window, Scott laid on his horn for the hundredth time.

“Chill out,” she muttered. It was going to be a long drive back to Tulsa hashing over the painful truth. She didn’t love him, and there was no gentle way to break the news.

A knock on the door. “Kirby? It’s Bea.”

“Come in.”

“Mr. Gilbert’s waiting in the car. Seems like he’s anxious to see the last of us.”

“Can I say good-bye to Cousin Eenie and Susannah?”

Miss Bea patted Kirby’s shoulder. “They’re waiting for you.”

Susannah, wearing a bright yellow robe, was propped up in bed. “Come over here and kiss me good-bye,” she said when Kirby poked her head in the room.

Cousin Eenie stood beside her bed, looking older and sadder than ever.

Kirby bussed Susannah’s cheek. “You remind me of a daffodil.”

“Bea says you’re a cop.”

“Beat cop. I mostly cruise the city looking for drunk drivers and speeders.”

“No serious crimes?” Susannah’s smile turned into a pout. “I’d like to think that at least one of us has an exciting life.”

Poor Susannah. Stuck in this room. “Maybe when it cools a bit, you can sit outside on the porch. There’s a pretty view.”

Cousin Eenie cleared his throat. “We’ve decided to install an elevator and put some ramps in so Susannah can move about. Unfortunately, the organics business isn’t working out as I’d hoped. But as soon as we can, we’ll do it.”

Kirby was surprised. “I thought you were afraid of exposing her to gossip if she left the house.”

Cousin Eenie tilted his huge head and smiled at her. “We’ve been so focused on what might happen, we’ve forgotten to be joyful.”

Kirby must have looked confused. She was never going to get the hang of Cousin Eenie’s transcendental way of looking at things.

“Really, Eenie. Must you always preach,” Susannah said.

“My apologies, dear.” He turned to Kirby. “In plain English, we—Bea and I and Susannah—realized that we have become old fossils, and we want to change. Let the gossips do their worst. We’re going to enjoy ourselves. Right, ladies?”

Bea and Susannah laughed. And so did Kirby.

Scott’s horn blared through the open window. “I should go,” Kirby said. “My ride is about to bust a gut.”

Cousin Eenie’s smile faded, and his pale eyes welled up with tears. “Will you come back and visit us?”

“I’ll try.”
Not likely.
Not while Seth was here.

“I’d hoped Mr. Maguire would convince you to stay. He’s a good man.”

“Mule headed,” Miss Bea said, “but his heart’s in the right place.”

Kirby shook her head. “Too much has happened.”

“Have you two talked since the trouble?” Miss Bea asked.

“Like Sarah Slade says, I’m poison. At least for him.”

A mournful sigh escaped Cousin Eenie. “Will you at least say good-bye to him?”

…

The back door banged. Seth looked up from the knife he was sharpening. Kirby came down the drive, shoulders back, full stride.

She wore faded khaki shorts and a blue tank and looked exactly like the girl of his dreams. A pair of sandals slapped against her heels. He bent back to his knife, torn between wanting her to say good-bye and fear of what else she might say.

“I didn’t have a chance to thank you for saving my life,” she said when she reached him.

He set the knife down. Stood. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
Open your mouth. Say something. Make her stay.
But he didn’t know how.

She lifted her eyes. The dark pools glittered with regret and pain. “I know you put your life on the line to go back for Frankie. Thank you.”

“No problem.” Those were really and truly the most asinine two words he’d ever spoken.
No problem?
How about
I did it for you
? How about
I want you to stay
? How about
I’m falling in love with you
?

She studied his face. “I’m sorry about the other day.”

“Doesn’t seem like you have anything to be sorry for.”

“I have a bad habit of poking my nose in other people’s business.” A tear ran down her cheek. “But I’ve learned my lesson. Boy, have I learned my lesson.” She tried to smile, but another tear slid between dark lashes.

“You were just trying to help.”

A shiny new Ford Explorer rolled toward the coach house. “Come on, Kirby, it’s seven hours to Tulsa.” The man who was taking her away from him—the man Kirby said she didn’t love—frowned at him.

She sniffed. “I better go.” Arching her neck, she planted a feathery kiss on his jaw. “’Bye.”

She’d surprised him or he would have grabbed her and pulled her close and kissed her properly. Let her boyfriend deal with
that
.

But she was already gone, sprinting across the grass, braid swinging between her shoulder blades, and he’d have given anything to see it unbound one last time. The way he loved it best—a veil of shimmering, sun-kissed hair.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Brittany found Mr. Maguire in the barn.

“Hi,” she said.

“What is it?” He studied her like she was a dead bug or something.

Her confidence withered. She could barely breathe. “I think you’re amazing. I—I just wanted you to know.”

“Oh, yeah? Why’s that?”

“Diving into the quarry and saving Miss Kirby’s life like you did.”

“She was in that fucking quarry because of me. Why are you here?”

She’d imagined this differently. But maybe Miss Kirby and Miss Frances had hurt him. He needed her sympathy and understanding. A little TLC. “I—I kinda like you.” She couldn’t look at his face.

“Is this a joke?”

She shook her head. “No.” The word squeaked out of her mouth.

“You like me.”

She nodded.

“Why the hell would you like a son of a bitch like me?”

Her pulse began to race. “You’re scaring me.”

“Answer the damn question.”

Why
did
she like him? “You’re cute and—and, uh, reliable.”

He threw back his head and laughed. Had she said something funny? “You’re looking for cute? And, uh, what was the other thing? Reliable?”

She hung her head. “I guess.”

“Sounds like you need to get yourself a dog.”

She felt like the whole world was staring at her. Her body burned with humiliation. She should have said everything different so he’d understand how happy she could make him. How had this gone so wrong? He was supposed to take her in his arms and tell her how much she meant to him. Instead he was laughing at her. “Please give me a chance. I can make you happy. I know I can. I’m a—a great cook, and I’ll take care of you. You’ll never be lonely again. Please.”

He pulled off his Stetson and ruffled his black curls. He was so, so, so cute, she wanted to die. “Shit,” he said.

“W-what does that mean?”

“Do what I said. Get yourself a pet and leave me the hell alone.”

She’d been so sure he loved her. She’d told Miss Kirby and Manny and Momma, and they’d tried to tell her different. But she’d been so
sure
. They’d be laughing at her now. Mr. Maguire most of all.

A great gulping sob erupted from her chest. She tore out of the barn, barreling into a solid male body smelling of hay and sweat. Manny.

His brows knitted. “What happened, Brit? Why are you crying?”

She choked out the story between sobs. “You were right. All of you. He hates me!”

He pulled her against his chest. “He said that?”

“Basically.” She laid her head on his shoulder. This was nice.

He disengaged himself from her. “You stay here.”

“Where are you going?”

“Boss or not, he had no right to talk to you that way.”

What had she done? “Wait, Manny. I didn’t mean it that way.”

But Manny was already barreling into the barn, head down, fists raised. She ran after him. Mr. Maguire was hanging up tools, but when Manny approached he turned. Manny reared back and threw a punch at Mr. Maguire, catching him in the eye.

Brittany’s tears stopped. She swiped at her nose. No one had ever defended her…except in her dreams. A real guy had punched someone because of her.

Mr. Maguire staggered back. “Why the hell did you do that?”

Manny was shaking his wrist, but he didn’t act scared. “You had no right to disrespect Brittany. She’s a great person.”

“I told her to buy a dog.”

“And you hate her,” Manny said. “Don’t forget that.”

Mr. Maguire’s eyes—one of which was looking puffy and bruised—slid to Brittany. She hadn’t meant it literally. It was just how she
felt
.

Mr. Maguire nodded at her. “My apologies, Miss Brittany.”

Mr. Maguire apologizing to her? Pigs were gonna fly next.

Manny seemed satisfied. “Okay, then. Let’s go, Brit.” Still shaking his wrist, he walked out of the barn. Brittany grabbed his good arm and hung on.

“You were amazing, Manny. Gosh, did you hurt your hand?”

He grinned at her. “Won’t be playing the guitar for a few days, that’s for sure. But it was worth it.”

Poor Manny. He needed her sympathy and understanding. A little TLC. “If you stay after work, you can eat dinner with me tonight. I mean, if you want to.”

…

Seth pulled the barn doors closed. The second worst day of his life was finally over.

“Mr. Maguire.” Female voice, clipped, all business. Frankie’s death hadn’t changed Miss Bea.

He tipped his hat. “Miss Bea.”

“You run into a door?”

“Something like that.” He’d taken the punch because he deserved it and because Brittany deserved her pride back and because Manny deserved a break. But he hadn’t expected Manny to deliver a Golden Glove blow upside the head.

“Hmm.”

He jerked the brim of his hat down and squinted into the setting sun. “You come out here for something?”

“Mr. Shaw wants you to drive him over to Hacienda Osito tomorrow. Ten o’clock sharp.”

He had a lavender harvest to organize and bunkhouses to swab and horses to feed and apricots to ship, and from the looks of Manny’s hand, he wasn’t going to get much help. “I’d sure be grateful if you’d do the honors. There’s lots to get done.”

“Mr. Shaw asked for you.”

He opened his mouth to argue, then closed it. What difference did it make? This so-called ranch was on its last leg anyway. By the time Kirby got her hands on it, there’d be nothing left but property taxes and a mess of leaky buildings.

“This isn’t working,” he said.

“It will only take an hour.”

“Not that. The ranch. There’s fifty thousand wasted acres here. This is cattle country.”

She nodded. “I grew up in El Royo.”

“You have to talk to Shaw. You’re the only one he’ll listen to.”

“Why the sudden interest in the fortunes of Shaw Valley Ranch?”

“Don’t know.”

She came closer and peered up at him. “Eenie and I miss Kirby, too. Especially Eenie. He hoped she might stay, seeing as how you two were getting on so well.”

He pulled the brim of his hat lower. “Guess he was wrong.”

She nodded. “I’ll tell Eenie what you said. He’ll appreciate your opinion. He’s been considering his options lately if he’s going to take care of the people he loves.”

That word again.

Love.

He’d told Kirby there was no such thing. But there was. It burned like wildfire in his veins. Still, he wished he’d been right.

Because then his life wouldn’t have turned into this fucking nightmare.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Seth’s mood was foul when he brought the Escalade around. He’d barely slept—visions of Kirby with Scott haunted him until dawn.

When he finally gave up on sleep, he discovered his left eye had swollen shut.

“What happened to you?” Shaw had barely settled himself in the SUV before he started in on Seth.

“Ran into a door.”

Shaw chuckled. “Apparently it was a door with a mean left hook.”

“Apparently.”

“Kirby called last night. She got home safely.”

“That so.”

Shaw leaned forward. His voice softened. “If you don’t mind me asking, what happened between you two?”

He did mind. “Ask her.”

“I did. She said to ask you.”

Because there was nothing to tell. “Wrong place, wrong time.”

“Can you be more specific?”

“I appreciate your interest, but it doesn’t matter.”

“If it doesn’t matter, why not tell me?” Was that how Shaw had dug Hannah’s story out of Kirby?

“It started because she told you about my sister.”

“Go on.”

“We fought. I was an asshole, she was hurt.” He shrugged. “Then I killed her sister.”

“And saved Kirby’s life.”

“Look, Mr. Shaw, I appreciate your interest, but the fact is Kirby went up there alone because I was mad at her for trying to help me, and because she went up there alone, she nearly died and her sister was killed. By me. The man who was supposed to care about her.”

Seth’s gaze slid to the rearview mirror. Shaw was studying him. “That’s a lot of baggage for one relationship.”

“Exactly.”

“Has she forgiven you?”

“Doesn’t matter. She’s better off with Scott. He drove all the way down here to get her, didn’t he? Must be crazy about her.” Had he really just said that? He was so full of shit.

Shaw leaned back. “Seems like we’re both wrestling demons.”

“How’s that?”

“Trying to right our mistakes can blind us to reality.”

“I’m not trying to right my mistakes, since it’s not possible.”

“Aren’t you?” Shaw asked.

He’s a nut.
Seth punched the accelerator, pushing the SUV past seventy-five.

The Hacienda Osito arch loomed, and Shaw straightened. “I meant no disrespect, Mr. Maguire. We are two sides of the same coin. You, unable to see the possibilities. Me, unable to accept the probabilities.”

“Maybe you should spit out whatever’s on your mind. Before I get insulted.”

“I want to turn Shaw Valley into a working cattle ranch again.”

“Dang!” The Escalade swerved and bumped across the shoulder before Seth could right it. He was going to be a rancher. He was going to herd cattle. He was going to ride horses. He was going to rope and lasso and brand. His body felt light, his bones buoyant.

“I’ve surprised you. But you of all people should understand.”

His head was so crowded with plans, he barely knew he asked the question. “Understand what?”

“Kirby belongs here. She’s a Shaw. This land is in her blood. I want to give it to her the way I found it. Thriving, productive, stretching as far as a body can see.”

The wind in his sails died. Kirby would live in Shaw Valley. She would bring Scott or someone else here. She would have kids. He couldn’t stay. Building Shaw Valley into a thriving cattle ranch would be another man’s pleasure. Not his.

The Escalade passed under the Hacienda Osito arch and rattled over the packed dirt road. Seth pulled up in front of the ranch house. “Would you like some help getting out, Mr. Shaw?”

“Nope.” But he didn’t move.

“What are we doing here?”

“Sit tight, Mr. Maguire.”

“Sure.” Seth slouched down in his seat and contemplated the small clouds drifting across the sky like puffs of smoke and wondered what to do next. He didn’t know where he belonged anymore. He’d lost his way.

The hacienda’s door opened, and Miss Peppie, mistress of Osito, appeared. She waved at Shaw. A figure appeared behind her. One of the Morales girls?

Then Miss Peppie pushed the door wide, and Hannah stepped out.

He couldn’t move. She watched him from the steps, round eyed and shaking. So was he. For the first time in his life, he was scared. Scared to blink or turn away or think too much, because if he did any of those things she might disappear again. Then a great bubble of joy rose in him. Like he’d been riding across an empty plain, lost and desperate, and now he could see home.

“She was in L.A., as you always suspected,” Shaw said. “They discharged her from a halfway house for addicts about a year ago. She came back to El Royo. Been sleeping in your family’s old trailer, doing odd jobs in town to buy food. When we found her, we brought her to Miss Peppie. She’ll stay here until she’s back on her feet.”

He couldn’t think of anything to say.

“Are you okay, Mr. Maguire?”

“Thank you.”

“You can return the favor,” Shaw said.

“How?”

“Bring Kirby back to the ranch.”

“I can’t.”

“You are the only one who can.”

“Mr. Shaw—”

“I may be old, but I know when two people love each other. She left because of you. Because you are not being honest with her, and perhaps not honest with yourself.”

“I killed her sister.”

“You saved her life.” He tapped the back of Seth’s seat. “Go on then. Your sister is waiting for you.”

He went to Hannah. She was thinner and lovelier than he remembered. Her blue eyes clear, her dark hair glossy. She was clean and sober and heartbreaking.

She dropped her gaze. “I’m so sorry, Seth.”

He wanted to shake her and hug her all at once. “Why the hell didn’t you come to me for help?”

“I was ashamed.”

“I’ve looked everywhere for you.”

“You hate me, don’t you? I tried to tell Miss Peppie…” The hurt in her eyes was unbearable.

Grow up, Seth. Love doesn’t keep score. It’s about acceptance.
Kirby had it right.

“I could never hate you.” He pulled her against him. “I’ve missed you…needed you.”