Contentment softened Rick's bones. He propped himself on one elbow and watched his wife’s face in the morning light. Had he ever been this happy, even once? He didn’t think so.
His conscience had torn at him all night in spite of it. Until she knew the truth, how could he trust her vows of love? Before he got in any deeper, he needed to know how she’d react to the truth.
And he still hadn’t told her he loved her. Rick believed in showing how he felt with action. She rolled closer, tucking her head onto his shoulder. He pulled her closer.
“You okay?” Her voice was husky.
“Fine.”
His hand rubbed against the flesh of her upper arm in a loving caress. He had to tell her. Tension tightened the muscles in his back and arms. It wasn’t fair to keep it from her. If only he had some whiskey to bolster his courage.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“There’s something I have to tell you,” he said. Her smile bloomed out, and he knew she thought he was going to say something sweet, like the three little words that hovered on his tongue.
He rushed on before he lost his courage. “It’s about Jon’s death. My part in it.”
Rolling onto her back, she propped herself up on the pillow and stared at him. “What are you talking about?”
He sat up and ran his hand through his rumpled hair. His courage began to fail. How could she forgive him when he couldn’t forgive himself? “Forget it.”
“No. No, I’m not going to forget it. Something is between us, Rick, even after last night. If we are going to build a future, we have to knock down the wall.”
He knew she was right. “It’s my fault he’s dead.”
She folded her arms across her chest as though to ward off whatever he was trying to tell her. “How can it be your fault?”
“Allie, I’m an alcoholic. A recovering one, but it’s something I struggle with every day.” He couldn’t look away from her stunned face, though he wanted to.
“An alcoholic.” Her blue eyes cleared, and she touched his arm. “It’s okay, Rick. We all have something we’re ashamed of in our past. I’ll be here for you.”
She wouldn’t be so glib once she knew the truth. Rick held her gaze. “You don’t understand, Allie. I was drunk the day Jon died.” He looked away, unable to watch the words he was about to say pierce her. In an instant he was back in Iraq with the raw sewage making his eyes water and the stink of gunpowder lingering on his clothes.
The sound of the troops’ boots clocked along the pavement. Rick staggered when they stopped at the end of the street. The rest of the unit hunkered down behind some trash barrels. Rick fell clumsily beside his buddy. Some hair of the dog would clear his mind. He fumbled for the little flask he’d slipped into his pocket.
“You’ve had enough,” Jon hissed. He grabbed the flask from Rick’s hand and started to put it in his own pocket.
“No sermon,” Rick slurred. “Give it back.” He made an awkward swipe at Jon’s arm.
A shadow loomed over them. Colonel Preston glared down at Jon. “I knew you weren’t as pure as you tried to seem, Lieutenant Siders. Hand it over. You’ll be brought up for courtmartial on this.”
Rick tried to slide out of the way. He had enough presence of mind to know that if the colonel saw him like this, he’d be placed under arrest. Jon was too good of a buddy to squeal on him.
“Yes sir,” Jon said, straightening. He passed the flask to his superior. “I’m sorry, sir.”
“Sorry doesn’t cut it,” the colonel snapped. “Stand up. Walk a line for me.”
“I didn’t drink any of it, sir. I’m competent to fight.” Jon leaped to his feet, walked a line, turned, and came back.
Shame clutched Rick’s gut. He’d make it up to Jon though. His buddy had been eyeing a dress for his wife but didn’t have the money to buy it. Jon sent every cent back to his little family in El Paso. Rick would buy it and send it, then tell Jon what he’d done.
“Enough. But this isn’t over.” The colonel grabbed the flask and moved away with a final contemptuous glare.
“Thanks, buddy,” Rick muttered. “You saved my bacon there.”
Jon’s gaze held pity and love. “You’ve got to quit the drinking, Rick. It’s going to kill you.”
“I know, I know.” Rick stood, still wavering. “Let’s get this job done.” He couldn’t stand to look his buddy in the eye. Jon was the best friend he’d ever had.
“Stop!” Jon grabbed Rick’s arm when he started toward the house that had pieces of plaster missing and no windows. “Wait for the order.” Rick shrugged off his friend’s hand. “No glory in waiting,” he said, his words slurred. Before Jon could grab him again, he leaped to the door and kicked it open.
His gaze collided with the five insurgents pointing guns at him. He brought his own weapon up, but slowly, too slowly. Expecting to feel bullets tearing through his skin, he closed his eyes. The next thing he knew, Jon’s rebel call echoed into the small room. His buddy leaped into the house in front of the men.
The bullets meant for him entered Jon’s chest, and his blood-spattered body fell across Rick as the other soldiers came through the door.
He couldn’t look at her as he recounted the story. When it was over, he lifted his gaze to her face. “Don’t hate me, Allie. I hate myself enough for both of us.”
A stunned expression dulled the brightness of her eyes. “No,” she said. “You’re lying. You’re afraid to love me, so you’re trying to drive me away.”
“It’s the truth, honey,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s eaten me up all this time. It’s the reason I had to help you. I owed it to Jon.”
She clapped her hands over her ears. “No, I won’t listen.”
He grabbed her wrists and pulled her hands down. “If we’re going to go on from here, it has to be with truth between us. I killed him, Allie. I need you to forgive me. Can you do that?”
“That’s the only reason you married me?”
Her whimper cut him to bloody shreds inside. “The only reason. But it’s not the reason I want to stay married now.”
“Then why?” She held up her hand. “Wait, don’t say anything. I have to think about this. It’s too much to take in.” She got out of bed and gathered her clothes from the floor. “I’ve got to get out of here for a while.”
He watched her walk away. Saying the words “I love you” might have stopped her, but he still couldn’t get them out past his tongue. Maybe it was a good thing. If she couldn’t forgive him, he wasn’t going to run the risk of rejection.
Moonbeam moved smoothly under her. Allie barely noticed the clouds overhead, the blackness deepening as the storm approached. Her second husband had killed her first.
Murderer.
She couldn’t stop the tears. Why couldn’t he have kept the truth to himself? Dealing with it was going to be impossible. She had loved Jon, and now she loved Rick.
Oh, how she loved him.
But he had kept this one vital piece of information to himself until she threw everything to the winds and gave herself to him. Had he thought if he told her last night, he wouldn’t get her into his bed?
Her hard laugh turned to a sob as the wind picked up pieces of sand and flung them against her face. The stinging attack broke her from her thoughts, and she looked up to see the towering thunderheads still building.
She had some time before it hit. The cabin where Rosa Garcia lived was just over the hill. She could head there to escape the coming rain. It would be an excuse to ask Rosa the questions she needed answered. The tiny cabin looked barely bigger than an outhouse, a mere fifteen-by-fifteen square. Flowers bloomed beside the porch, and the rocker looked worn and well used.
Glancing at her watch, Allie saw it was barely six thirty. The old woman might still be in bed. But before she could decide what to do, the front door opened, and a tiny, wizened figure stepped into view. An apron covered the dark dress that touched her boot tops, and the woman wore her white hair coiled in a knot at the back of her neck.
“Finally, you have come for a visit.” Rosa’s dark eyes examined her. “You have the look of Maria, sí, and of your mother. Coffee is brewing. Come.” She hooked a finger toward Allie.
Allie dismounted, tied the reins to the porch railing, and followed the woman inside. The tiny cabin was as spotless inside as out. A bright rug covered the worn floorboards, and three candles burned on the fireplace mantel. Coffee boiled on a woodstove in the corner.
Rosa wrapped her hand in her apron, lifted the coffeepot from the heat, and poured two cups. “Cream and sugar, sí?”
“Yes, please.” Allie accepted the coffee the woman handed her, then went to sit on the ladder-back chair. “You sounded like you were expecting me.”
“Sí. I knew you would come in your own time. You want to know of your mother.” Rosa settled at the table with Allie. “I am the only one left who knows all the story. The rest—all dead.”
Rain began to patter against the metal roof over their heads. “You were at the ranch when my mother was a child?”
Rosa nodded. “Sí. From the time your madre was crawling on the floor.”
She might as well start at the beginning. “What happened to my grandmother?”
Rosa’s dark eyes softened. “Ah, Francesca was a darling girl. Elijah, he loved her very much. I thought he would die himself when the pneumonia took her from him. But he had your madre to care for.”
“I saw some pictures of my mother growing up. She looked so happy until she got to her teens. What happened? Who was Maria’s father?”
Rosa winced. “It is an unhappy story. Elijah carried the hurt to his grave. He blamed himself.”
Wrapping her fingers around her warm cup, Allie tried to prepare herself for whatever information was coming. Thunder rumbled overhead. She would be trapped here all morning unless Rosa hurried up.
“Elijah had a partner. Nolan Webster. Handsome as el diablo himself. His wife was Francesca’s best friend. He took a special interest in Anna, showed her rodeo tricks, took her to her first rodeo. Elijah thought nothing of it until his daughter told him she was pregnant. And Nolan was the father.”
Allie shuddered, suddenly cold. “How old was this Nolan?”
“Forty, he was. And Anna was fifteen.”
A lech. “He should have been shot,” Allie said fiercely. “He could have been prosecuted for statutory rape.”
“Sí. Elijah did just that, dear girl.”
Allie opened her mouth and shut it again. “Did what? You don’t mean Elijah shot him?” That couldn’t be what Rosa meant. Elijah was no murderer.
Rosa’s lively dark eyes narrowed. “Sí. Elijah, he shot Nolan and buried him in an old well. Anna was the only one who knew. She left the ranch that night and never returned. It was the only way she could cope with knowing her father was a murderer.”
Allie swallowed hard. “Elijah seemed to be such a good man.”
Rosa grabbed her hand with tough, sinewy fingers. “Sí, he was a very good man. But even good men have their breaking points. He spent the rest of his life atoning for his sin. That is when he converted the ranch to a place for hurting young people.”
“And Maria?”
“Elijah had many eyes and ears. When Anna left, he found her again a year later. By then she was beginning to make a name for herself in the rodeo. She refused to come home. When she had no bebé with her, Elijah found out what had happened to the little one. She was to be adopted, but he fought and won custody and brought her home.”
“My mother never objected?”
“No.” Rosa shrugged her wizened shoulders. “Perhaps she never knew. She abandoned the bebé at a church.”
“How could she do that?” The action didn’t compute. Her mother had always been so caring and supportive of Allie and her sister. It just went to show how so many people wore a mask. Like Rick. She pushed the memory of his face away.
She took a sip of her coffee. It wasn’t as bitter as her heart.
Rosa stood and went to rinse out her cup at the old hand pump. “I do not know, mujercita. Perhaps by then, she had come to hate everything about Nolan and the ranch, all the past memories. I am glad she was a good madre to you. She learned from her past, as we all should.”
Had Rick learned from his past? She hadn’t seen him take a single drop of liquor. But he had hidden his alcoholism from her. It would be hard to get past that failure if she was even willing to try, and right now, she wasn’t too sure about that.
Allie had been gone an hour. Rick knew she needed time, but he couldn’t hang around and watch for her or he’d go crazy. Maybe he could see what Walker had found out about Luis Hernandez since yesterday.
Hoping to catch him before he went to work, he drove to Walker’s house. Splashes of rain peppered the windshield, and he flipped on his wipers. Looked like they could have a real gulley-washer. Rick parked behind his friend’s truck and honked when he saw Walker exiting the house.
Walker waved and walked back to stand beside Rick’s open window. “I was going to call you when I got to the office,Mr. Impatience.” His easy smile came. “We did good work yesterday. The money trail checks out. The ring raked in over five hundred thousand dollars.”
“And it definitely went through Allie’s account?”
“Yep.”
“And he killed Allie’s family. Man, that took a lot of hate.”
Walker’s brow clouded. “Uh, actually Rick, we’re not finding evidence of any murder. He was in Mexico when the plane crash happened, and then when the sister was killed, he was in Canada.”
“Maybe he hired someone.”
“Maybe. But if he did, there’s no money trail pointing to a hit man.”
“I’m sure you’ll find the connection. He’s good at covering his tracks.”
“Maybe.” Walker glanced at his watch. “Listen, I’ve got to run. I’ll call you if I find out anything new.”
“Thanks.” Rick backed out of the driveway and turned his truck toward home. He should get Betsy, but considering the weather, she’d be safer with the O’Sullivans. They had a basement, and this storm just might have a twister in it.
He mulled over what he’d found out. Luis had to be the murderer. Rick might have to help pin this down himself. The last thing he wanted was for the man to get off on a lighter charge and come looking for Allie again.
The clouds drew his gaze again, thunderheads building in the southwest. As purple-black as a bruise, they towered over the landscape. They were in for a bad one. He needed to make sure Allie wasn’t out in this weather. He tried to reach her on his cell phone, but she didn’t answer. The best he could do was get home as soon as possible. If she was still out, he’d take Jem and go find her.
His cell phone rang and he flipped it open. “Bailey.”
“Rick, Betsy is gone.” Dolly was babbling, nearly hysterical. “The bedroom window is open, and she’s just gone.”
Time froze.
Rick jammed on the brakes and pulled to the side of the road. What should he do? Go look for Betsy or find Allie? He started to turn the truck around. Allie would want him to find Betsy.
But for some reason he couldn’t name, he veered the wheel the other way and headed to the ranch. “Call the sheriff,” he barked into the phone. “I’m going after Allie, and we’ll be there as soon as we can.”
Allie was roaming on her own, but Rick had a feeling the guy would take Betsy to flaunt his power over her. He could only take the impulse as direction from God and trust he was reading it right.
The splatters of rain chilled her arms. Allie looked up into the rolling underbelly of a monster. A doozy of a storm was going to hit any minute, more than just the rain that had eased off before she left Rosa’s. She was exposed to the vicious lightning flickering in the clouds. A rumble followed that made Moonbeam startle. She could sense the horse’s agitation as the storm grew nearer.
She probably should have stayed at Rosa’s. Her gaze swept the landscape as she looked for a place to get her and the horse in from the storm. There was nothing in the rock face, and the ranch was an hour’s ride behind her.
She saw something in the distance and realized it was Bluebird. She whistled to the horse, and the mare turned toward her. Allie trotted Moonbeam over to the other mare and grabbed her halter. “What are you doing here, girl?”
The horse snorted but didn’t try to run away. Allie leaned her face against the mare’s neck and inhaled the aroma of horse. Rosa’s words came back to her.
Maybe she learned from her past.
Didn’t everyone have regrets for things they’d done in the past? She sure did. Who was she to judge Rick? She hadn’t lived his life and been faced with his hurts. Love was a choice, he’d said. He’d chosen love early on and proven it by his actions.
She could do the same. The anger seeped out of her heart. Rick deserved the best she could give.
“Allie!”
She turned in the saddle to see Charlie coming toward her on horseback. She waved and waited for him. He would help her.
“Are you crazy? Coming out here in the middle of a storm,” he said, stopping his horse about five feet from her. “The lightning will get you if the wind doesn’t.”
“You’re out here too,” she said, smiling.
“I was looking for you. Rick was worried, and so was I. He went to town to get Betsy and asked me to try to find you. You two have a fight?” His smile suggested he’d be glad to hear the juicy details.
“Something like that,” she said shortly, irritation wiping away her initial happiness at seeing him. “How’d Bluebird get out?”
He shrugged. “No clue.”
“Any idea where we can hole up?”
“I’ve got the perfect spot. Follow me.” Digging his heels into his horse’s belly, he led the way up the hillside and disappeared around the curve in the trail.
Muttering under her breath that she wanted to go down, not up, Allie followed with Bluebird. As soon as she got past the creosote bush that stuck halfway into the path, she saw Charlie waving from the opening to an old mine shaft.
She rode up to join him. “I don’t want to go in there. Bats.” She shuddered.
“They’re sleeping,” he said.
A brilliant flash of light superimposed itself on her eyes. Her hair stood on end, and the lightning crackled a hundred feet away, where it split a piñon tree right down the center. The smell of ozone burned her throat.
Bluebird snorted and tried to jerk away, but she hung on. Moonbeam pranced along the wet ground too, his eyes rolling to the whites.
“Come on!” Charlie and his horse disappeared into the shaft.
The hot scent from the burning tree and the way the wind picked up made Allie dismount and follow, leading Moonbeam and Bluebird in with her. The cool muskiness of the mine made her instantly want to go back outside. She hated closed-in spaces. The rough walls and low ceiling made her chest feel tight.
“Over here, Allie,” Charlie called.
He was brandishing a flashlight. The friendly beam pushed back the edges of the darkness. Allie dropped Moonbeam’s reins and sat beside Charlie on a big rock near the ashes of an old campfire.
“Looks like someone uses this place.” Kicking at the ashes with the toe of her boot, she glanced around the space.
Black things in the corners made her shudder. Bats, but they weren’t moving. The storm would blow itself out soon, and she could get home to Betsy.
Once she figured out what to say to Rick. Tears welled in her eyes again, and she turned her head, but not fast enough to hide her emotion from Charlie.
“Hey, you okay?”
“Fine.” She sniffed and gulped back her pain.
“Rick have a drinking binge or something?”
She looked up then. “You knew?”
“Well, sure. The whole ranch knows. Elijah was waiting for Rick to fall, but he hasn’t so far. Maybe you weakened him. You have that effect on men.”
She wasn’t going there. Uh-uh. Charlie seemed to have words of confession hanging on his tongue, and she wasn’t going to give him a chance to tell her he was crazy about her or something equally embarrassing.
Standing, she walked around the cavern, though she was careful not to look up at the bats. If she saw one move, she might scream. “What kind of mine is this?”
Charlie stood and joined her. “Mercury.” He kicked an orange rock with his toe. “Cinnabar rock carries it.”
“Why isn’t it mined anymore?”
“I don’t know, do I look like a park ranger?” He laughed, but there was an edge to it. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you. Sit down.” He took her arm in a surprisingly hard grasp and marched her back to the rock.
There was no getting around it. She was going to have to hurt his feelings. Just what she needed on top of an upsetting day. “Look, Charlie, let’s not go there. I’m happily married.”
His laughter barked, echoing off the sides of the mine. “Get real. You’re not as pretty as you think you are.”
She drew back at the derisive edge to his voice. “My mistake,” she said in a cool voice. “So what’s on your mind?”
“Women like you can twist a guy until he doesn’t know which way is up.” Charlie swore and stomped at the ashes and charred wood, scattering them in all directions. Vile words spewed from his mouth as he waved his hands and roared around the space.
Allie wanted to grab Moonbeam and run, but the storm had descended in full fury. The wind howled outside the mine opening, and the thunder boomed in a continuous roll. Rain sluiced over the entrance like a waterfall.
“Calm down, Charlie. Tell me what this is all about.” She tried to speak in a soft, calm voice, and it seemed to work. He quit kicking at the ground and turned to look at her.
Then she saw his hand come up with a gun.
“Put that away.” She spoke in her strongest, most assertive voice.
“You killed my brother.” His voice was calm and reasonable.
“Jimmy Hernandez is your brother? Bu—but you’re not Hispanic.”
His short laugh made Moonbeam prick his ears and step back. “This has nothing to do with Hernandez.You’re so stupid. I gave you plenty of time to figure it out.”
“Who’s your brother? I thought you said he was a politician.”
“He wanted to run for office, but you killed him. The name Mark Haskell ring a bell?” He watched until she flinched, then he smiled.
“Mark’s dead? I didn’t know.”
He leaned over her, yelling at the top of his lungs, “Of course he’s dead, you heartless witch! He hung himself when you broke his heart. You led him on, then tossed him aside like a piece of trash when you were done.”
Allie winced as spittle sprayed from his mouth over her face. “Charlie, it wasn’t like that. We weren’t romantically involved. He never even kissed me.”
“You’re a liar! He’d come home at night and tell me what you said about loving him forever. Then some new cowboy walked in and whisked you away from him.”
“He lied to you,” she said, trying to edge away. Her back was up against the wall of the mine. “You have to believe me.”
The storm was beginning to abate. She could hear the thunder moving off. They had to get down off this mountain and through the wash before a flash flood hit.
Charlie quit looming over her. He stepped back, and she took hope that maybe he was listening to the truth.
“Please, you have to believe me, Charlie. I only went out with him a couple of times.” Did Charlie kill her family and Yo? Staring into his face, suffused with red, she could believe it.
And she was stuck here in a mine with him training a gun on her. Praying, she tried to think of what to do. She couldn’t leave Betsy alone.