twenty-seven

Ross didn’t say anything on the way back to her house. He knew what he’d just lost in those few seconds. He knew he’d lost the trust, the closeness that had developed between them. He’d seen comprehension dawn in her eyes when he’d stopped reading the letter.

And he had no defense. He couldn’t say why he’d withheld information she’d wanted so badly, because then he would be betraying someone else. He’d thought his heart immune to wreckage. It wasn’t. He consoled himself with the fact that he hadn’t been tossed out on the street. At least, she realized he wouldn’t harm her in any physical way.

He turned slightly and watched her. He also occasionally glanced backward. No dark sedan. They’d definitely thrown whoever had been following them. If they had been followed.

He looked at her, at her set face, the chin jutting forward in that determined way of hers. She wouldn’t look at him, and when she did her eyes were like ice. He’d not seen that side of her before. It was formidable. It said, “Don’t touch, don’t approach.”

He had no idea how to do either. He accepted that she wanted him to leave her alone, just as he accepted that he could not. She was probably in more danger than ever. If whoever wanted those bonds knew she had the information leading to them, she would be a prime target. Damn it all to hell.

They arrived at her cottage at close to seven. Atlanta traffic had consumed nearly an hour and a half. He didn’t know how she tolerated it, the traffic and the smog that hovered over the city. He already longed for the clean skies of northern Arizona.

They got out of the car. The air was muggy and hot. Great bulbous clouds filled the sky, and he smelled the coming rain. The denseness of the air seemed to heighten the aroma of the garden, spreading the sweet scent of magnolia and lilies and other flowers he didn’t recognize.

The garden was visible evidence of her affection for the house, for this place she’d made her own. He hated the way she hesitated at the door, as if her one haven had been irretrievably spoiled. He saw her glance apprehensively up and down the street.

Nothing. No suspicious cars. No suspicious people.

Ross took the house key from her and motioned for her to let him go in first. He checked all the rooms. Nothing seemed disturbed. He appreciated the fact that she didn’t ask if such precautions were necessary. She’d simply accepted that they were. Nor did she quarrel with his self-appointed role of protector. She didn’t seem to notice him at all, in fact. She had tuned him out as completely as he’d done to others.

When he’d satisfied himself that everything was as they had left it, he joined her in the living room. “What do you plan to do now?”

She looked at him with cool eyes. That hurt more than angry ones would. “What do you think I should do?”

He stilled. There was a coldness about the question. Even an accusation.

He knew what he wanted her to do. Burn the goddamn book and the letter. The Clementses didn’t need an opening of an investigation of a murder—murders—fifty years earlier. There was no statute of limitations on murder.

“Whatever you think should be done,” he finally said. “It’s your call.”

“It’s my father’s call. He wanted the money returned.”

“All right. How do you want to start? Go to the police?”

She looked up at him. “You don’t want that, do you?” Her eyes had narrowed.

“It’s the safest way to handle it.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“No,” he said flatly.

“No, you didn’t answer my question, or no, you don’t want me to go to the police?”

He shrugged. “No, I’m not going to answer that question.”

“Because of Sarah?”

He turned away.

She persisted. “She was involved in some way, wasn’t she?”

“Only in making sure the family … wasn’t hurt,” he finally said. Part of the truth.

“What do you mean?”

“She used her … the family’s influence to convince the authorities that autopsies weren’t necessary. She’d known what had happened when she found Heath’s note and Harding disappeared. She suspected they would find murder if they looked. Her favorite brother would be hunted like an animal.”

“That was all?”

“The facts can still destroy the family,” he said, realizing how weak the argument sounded.

“Did she—did you—think I would run to the police with a fifty-year-old crime my father committed?” She was outraged. And hurt that she hadn’t been trusted.

“She didn’t want you to know, either,” he said. “She was still trying to protect your father. I swore to her years ago I would never say anything.”

“My father said Lori was still alive when he left her.”

He shrugged. “He was frantic, Jess. He may not have realized how badly he’d hurt her.”

“And the fire? Was that just convenient?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Perhaps a spark from a gun. There were fires all over that summer, and authorities assumed one trapped Lori and Heath. A fire crew found the bodies.”

“And Sarah’s role in all this?”

“She suspected what had happened, and she diverted the attention of the police. She told them that Harding had left on a business trip. When she reached him by phone and when he heard about his brother and wife, he said he needed to get away.”

“Then my father killed two people,” she said, her voice breaking slightly.

He wanted to take her in his arms, but he couldn’t. Not now. He wasn’t that much of a bastard.

Her eyes seemed to stare through him. She wasn’t accepting everything he said. But neither was she rejecting it.

“I want to finish this,” she said. “But I don’t want to destroy everyone in doing so. If we just get the bonds and give them to the family, then … all this should stop.”

“But then you’ll never know who tried to run you off the road.” Ross was acting the devil’s advocate now, arguing first one side, then another. He wanted her to be sure, to have no doubts. Or as few as possible. Damn it, she had a way of turning him into knots.

“Do you think I’ll really find that out if I go to the police?”

He doubted it. He shrugged. “It’s up to you.”

“I don’t,” she said, then went to the phone. “I think we should go to Sedona tomorrow and see if the bonds are still there.”

He liked that “we.” He nodded, taking the phone from her hands. God only knew how much she’d already spent in plane fares. This was one time the ranch could pay. She had, after all, saved it. He made the reservations, however, for Las Vegas. “We’ll rent a car there,” he said. “If we disappear from here, someone might watch the Phoenix airport.”

She listened as he made all the arrangements, using the ranch credit card, but her face seemed frozen. She looked as if she would break into a thousand pieces if she allowed her emotions off a very tight leash. And yet she had still thought of the Clementses first. He was baffled at that.

“Would you like a drink?” she asked when he hung up the receiver.

He shook his head. “Would you like dinner?”

“No,” she said. “I’m not hungry. I’m going to bed. Make yourself at home. Help yourself to anything.”

Anything but her. The words were unsaid but he felt them. She disappeared down the hall, but he knew he would always remember the way her lips trembled. The break in her voice. Everyone in her life had let her down.

Including him. Perhaps especially him.

Jessie had to be alone. She had to reread the letter. She had to think about her father. She had to weigh what Ross had said. It sounded so logical. And yet she didn’t believe him. At least she didn’t believe everything. Or maybe it would be hard for her to believe anyone at this point. She just wanted it all to be over.

But her father had given her a charge. She now knew only a little of the agony he must have gone through. She wiped a tear from her eye. He’d obviously loved the ranch, loved the other members of the family. Loved his wife. Regret and anguish had been in every word of that letter. No wonder he’d sought solace in drink. No wonder he’d barred his heart.

She wished Ben were here. She wished it with all her heart. She desperately needed to love something at the moment. And needed to receive it. Unconditional, uncomplicated, honest love.

Jessie didn’t know how long she stayed in her room, remembering, thinking.

She looked at the clock. It was after one, and their plane left at eight in the morning. They would have to leave the house at six. Yet she knew she couldn’t sleep. Perhaps a glass of milk would help.

She put on a robe and went to the kitchen, padding silently on bare feet past Ross’s room. She paused for a moment, wanting to knock, then bury herself in his arms, but she couldn’t tonight. He was still holding something back. She felt it to the marrow of her bones.

How can you have love without trust?

And yet she trusted him with her life, if not her heart.

The house was dark, and it took several minutes for her eyes to adjust. Before going to the kitchen, though, she looked out the window. A dark sedan was parked down the street. Chills ran through her. Was she really doing the right thing in not going to the police? And yet she still didn’t have evidence of a crime in Arizona, except for the one her father committed fifty years earlier.

Then she felt Ross’s presence next to her.

“Jess?”

“Someone is out there.”

He looked out. “We don’t know it’s the same car.”

“I do,” she said.

He moved behind her and put his arms around her, pulling her back to lean into his body. He felt so good. So solid. She knew then she wanted to stay there. Maybe he had told her everything. His hands massaged the back of her neck. Gentle hands. Loving hands.

Yet she couldn’t trust them. She gently pulled away. “I came out to get a glass of milk.”

“I’ll stay up,” he said. His hand caught hers.

She held it for a moment, feeling its warmth, its strength. The now-familiar heated tension stretched between them. His finger traced the contours of her face. But then he dropped it. “Get your milk,” he said gently.

Jessie nodded. It wasn’t what she wanted. But she knew he was right. She was emotionally volatile. But she knew she wouldn’t sleep now. Instead of milk, she made a pot of coffee, and together they silently watched throughout the night.

The ease between them was gone as she prepared a quick breakfast of toast and jam. Electricity continued to shimmer between them, though, and the emotional distance Jessie tried to establish made that attraction even more compelling—the human foible of wanting what you can’t, or shouldn’t, have.

The sedan was still there in the morning, but there was no sight of occupants. But after they pulled away and went several blocks, they saw the car again. They had discussed that earlier, though, and she had called Sol. They arranged to meet at a busy restaurant. Sol parked on the other side of the restaurant, and Ross and Jessie went through one of one set of doors to another, got in his car, and drove away.

Jessie knew that it wouldn’t take long for someone to discover they’d returned to Sedona, but hopefully it would be too late.

She tried not to glance at Ross, but it was impossible. Neither of them had packed any clothes. She had a toothbrush in her handbag. She would buy whatever was needed in Sedona, but she didn’t expect to be there that long. Just long enough to see whether they could find the bonds, or whether they’d been destroyed in the fire. And pick up Ben.

She and Ross had talked during the night about alternatives. Should they add several people to their trip into Oak Creek Canyon? Sarah? Alex? But neither of them could completely eliminate Alex from the list of suspects, nor did they want to put Sarah in danger. Someone had gone to a lot of expense, and the danger of exposure, to find those bonds.

If they dragged the police in, the whole sorry story would come to light. It could ruin Marc and others. And there could be nothing there at all. Why raise hopes? Or scandal?

He’d then suggested that he go alone. Her flat “No” had ended that discussion quickly. If there was danger, she would share it.

The skies had cleared and the flight to Las Vegas was uneventful. They quickly obtained the rental car. “It’ll just take us an hour longer than it took to get to Sedona from Phoenix,” he assured her.

Jessie nodded, and slept part of the way, then offered to drive while he did the same. To her surprise, he agreed.

They neared Sedona at three, having gained several hours in time changes. Ross took over the wheel and drove to the cantina. He led her inside, ordered food, then went over to huddle with his friend, the owner. Then they both disappeared.

Jessie sat and waited, then she rose and walked around, stretching her legs. It was an odd hour, and few people were inside. She went to the window and looked out, wondering whether she’d ever stop looking again.

Nothing unusual. Then her gaze went to a bowl full of matches. She snatched several books, as she usually did in restaurants, and dropped them into the pocket of her slacks. A souvenir. A memory, too. Though she wasn’t entirely sure how many memories she wanted of this summer.

Both the food and Ross appeared at the same time, and she went back to the table. They both ate quickly and without many words. The tacos were probably wonderful, but now they were tasteless. She ate because she knew it would be a long day, not because of appetite.

When he’d paid the bill, they walked out to the car. As she stepped inside the passenger side, she saw a shovel and other tools in the backseat. And a rifle.

Ross apparently saw concern on her face. “Just a precaution,” he assured her. “There are snakes in that canyon.”

Jessie wondered whether he referred to the two-legged kind or those that crawled. But the sight of the rifle was reassuring. All her pacifist inclinations had faded that night when she was almost run off the road.

He drove down the main road to Oak Creek, keeping his eyes open again for a tail. He didn’t see one.

“Tell me about the cabin,” she said.

“There’s damn little left.”

“Is any of it still there?”

“The chimney,” he said. “I’m not sure about how much of the hearth survived. The heat must have been terrific. It could well have incinerated anything close to the surface.” He paused, then continued, “The Clementses still own the land. They’ve never thought of rebuilding, though. Too many ghosts there. But no one has suggested selling it, either. I think the specter of those bonds kept the property in the family. I always thought it rather futile.” He shrugged.

“Was it large?”

“Just a two-room cabin from what I understand,” he said. “Old Hall Clements built it as a retreat from the family, not for it. This was all wilderness then, a great place for hunting.”

“But everyone knew about it?”

“Oh, the family, certainly. But unless they were invited, it was off-limits. Perhaps that’s why Heath selected it. He planned to bury the bonds there, then meet Lori for their getaway. Your father must have seen Lori leave and followed her.”

A chill ran down Jessie’s back as she imagined her father on this same road, following his wife, wondering whether she was going to betray him. She remembered his rages. He must have been in a towering one then.

Ross didn’t say anything more as they drove approximately five more miles, then he turned off onto a dirt road that ran beside the creek and crossed a narrow, rickety-looking bridge. All signs of civilization disappeared as they bounced along an old overgrown drive. He turned again into a barely visible track.

The car bounced along overgrown weeds. “I wish I had my truck,” he said. But he deftly maneuvered the car between branches and over rough ruts.

“I’m glad you rented it,” she said. “If it were me, I’d probably never be able to rent a car again. Not after destroying the last one, too.”

He chuckled. The sound warmed the chill inside her.

Then the overgrowth became too much, even for his driving. He parked the car. “We’ll walk the rest of the way.”

She nodded. She slung her handbag over her shoulder and stepped outside. She watched as he stood beside the car, listening. A buzz of insects. The rustle of branches as a squirrel retreated to a higher limb. Then he opened the back door, hesitated, then took out the shovel and a large box of tools.

She reached over to take the shovel. He gave that to her, but kept the box of tools. “It’s heavy,” he said. Then he took the rifle out and shouldered it with his other hand.

He led the way to the ruined cabin. Piles of stone lay in heaps. Remains of a fireplace. She hesitated at what once might have been a doorway. An eerie sensation ran through her. She shivered. Her father had stood here, or near here. He’d done something that had forever changed his life.

“Jess.”

She turned around. Ross was directly behind her. He rested the rifle against a large cottonwood, then put the box of tools down. She was holding the shovel like a rifle, and he took it from her. He put an arm on her shoulder. “Are you all right?”

“No,” she said honestly.

He pulled her to him. “When I was a kid, Cullen’s twins, Hugh and Heath, brought me up here to ‘treasure hunt.’ I was thirteen. They were three years older. We dug up all sorts of unlikely places. Then they left me here. I was scared out of my wits, though I would be damned before I would admit it. I saw ghosts everywhere.”

Jessie was surprised. First of all, she couldn’t imagine him scared. Secondly, she was surprised he admitted to it. Nothing about him had endeared him to her more.

For the first time since yesterday afternoon, she reached out and took his hand. “What happened?”

“Sarah drove out. When I didn’t come home, she’d pried the information out of the twins. It was the first time I was glad to see her.”

“But you didn’t show it?”

“No. That wouldn’t have been manly,” he said with a wry twist to his lips. “But I think she knew it. Several days later, she gave me a horse of my own. I knew how to ride. Every kid on the reservation did, but I’d never owned one. Hell, I never owned more than two pairs of pants at a time.”

His fingers closed tightly around hers.

She looked up at him. “You love her very much, don’t you?”

“Yes.” So simply said. Yet with so much feeling. He’d thrown her off in the beginning with his reserve, with his reluctance to join in any family activities, his insistence on calling Sarah by her given name. She should have known better. She should have sensed how much feeling lay underneath the exterior.

And she knew then that whatever he hadn’t said had been to protect Sarah. Had Sarah sought to cover up her brother’s crime by starting a fire?

She leaned into his arms, feeling the strength in him. He didn’t love easily, but he loved powerfully.

It was he who pulled away, but not before his hand lingered on her arm, and she saw the warmth in his eyes. “I think we’d better look for those bonds before it gets dark. There really are spirits here. I saw them,” he said seriously with only the smallest trace of humor showing. He hesitated, the amusement fading, then added, “Maybe we can put those ghosts to rest once and for all.”

She nodded. “I just want to end the speculation. I have no expectations of finding anything.”

“You’ve never had any, have you?” he said, his fingers touching her chin. “I’ve never met anyone like you before.”

His touch burned all the way through her. She felt as if she were melting. All her anger, all the hurt faded. He hadn’t done anything to hurt her; he had done what he had to do to protect someone he loved. How could she fault that?

He leaned down and kissed her lightly. Except for the promise. She felt that promise with every beat of her heart.

Then she backed away. It was getting late. Perhaps if they found those bonds, her father would rest easier.

She watched as he walked over to what was left of the chimney. A huge pile of rock lay around it. He leaned down and started to toss away the rocks that had tumbled down during the past fifty years. She joined him in throwing the rocks aside.

Not a breath of air stirred. The sun had lowered but the temperature was still hot. Fool’s errand, she told herself as sweat pooled on her face. When she thought she couldn’t stoop one more time, they reached the bottom of the pile.

Ross kneeled and brushed away dirt from what must have been the fireplace foundation. They found burned fragments of brick, and she knew it must have been an extremely hot fire. Ross used a spade to dig under the rubble. How large a package could be secreted under a hole in the hearth?

Minutes seemed to turn into hours, then she heard a clank. Metal on metal. Ross worked a few more moments, then started pulling on something. His hands emerged with a long, narrow metal box. Heath must have hunted long and hard for something that would fit into the opening. It looked like a long safe-deposit box with a cover.

Ross just held it for a moment, and she stared at it. Part of her had never believed the bonds could have survived all these years. She looked around. The walls of the canyon rose up in back of them. The river gurgled in the late afternoon. Several birds flew from their perches in the trees. So peaceful. Yet echoes of violence seemed to linger. She tried to shake off the feeling.

Ross was still kneeling, looking down at the box. Pandora’s box, she thought. She’d had the image earlier and she’d been right. Then he looked at her and, surprisingly, he winked. It was so out of character, so whimsical at the moment that her heart lightened.

Ross picked up the box, finding a key in the lock. The metal box apparently was not meant to keep anyone out, but to protect the contents from the elements. “Should we?” he asked.

“We should,” she said. She felt the stirrings of excitement.

He stood, straightening his long, lean body, and she knew he was a far greater treasure than anything they might find in a box. He’d rolled up the sleeves of the white shirt he’d worn all day. Sweat had dampened the shirt and also the unruly dark hair. He used one of his hands to run his fingers through it, leaving a small trail of dirt on his forehead. He was really quite irresistible, and she fought to turn her attention back to the box that had caused so much tragedy.

He led the way to a log where they could sit. He looked at her again, his hand touching hers briefly, then opened the metal box. A sheaf of papers were rolled up inside. He carefully unrolled them to find elaborately designed certificates. He looked closely at one, then handed one over to her.

Just as she started to take it, she heard a loud crack, then an oath from Ross. Red flowered his shirtsleeve. Before she had time to think, he took her hand and practically threw her behind the log, throwing himself over her. They hunched down as another shot whizzed by them, then another.

Their rifle. They had left it leaning against a tree near the chimney.

He whispered into her ear. “Can you crawl into the underbrush? I’ll try to circle around and get the rifle.”

She started to protest. “You’re hit.”

“A scratch,” he replied. “Do as I say.” This time he didn’t give her a chance to protest. He started snaking away behind her. A bullet hit near her and she tried to merge herself with the ground. Then she saw Ross move from tree to tree. So apparently did the shooter. He would never make it. She remembered Marc’s wound. A rifle, too. Whoever was shooting was a good shot. She moved behind a rotted log, then looked up. Ross was systematically moving toward the rifle, but there was an open space he would have to cross. He would be in the open with no protection.

Her stomach clenched. He would never make it. She felt in her pocket for the matches she’d picked up earlier. The bonds were beside her, spilling over across the ground; Ross had apparently let them go as he’d grabbed her.

Another shot. The shooter’s attention was all on Ross now.

He was almost to the clearing. Now. She spread the bonds out on the log. Then she took one and rolled it up. She lit the end and watched it flame like a torch. She stood up, holding the flaming bond over the others. It might buy Ross a few seconds.

“I’ll burn them,” she yelled.

The shooter turned toward her. “Noooooo,” he yelled.

Cullen!

A silence. The flame was eating its way through print, its heat singeing her fingers. When it went out …

The gun was aimed at her now.

“Blow it out or I’ll kill you,” Cullen said.

“No. Not until you put the gun down.” She saw his face turn toward Ross’s direction as he started to sprint across to the rifle.

The blaze burned her skin. Ross needed more time. She did the only thing she could. She dropped the torch and another bond flamed up. The rifle wavered, then Cullen aimed again. Toward her. A loud crack. Pain ripped through her. Then as she started to fall, another crack.

Everything went black.

Light crept into her consciousness. She wanted it to go away. She wanted to sink back into darkness, into nothingness.

But a voice wouldn’t let her. “Jess,” it called. Over and over again.

Go away. It hurts too much. She could scarcely breathe. Every small breath was agony.

“Jessie.” A softer voice. But just as insistent.

Go away.

“Dammit, Jess. Don’t go being a coward on me now.”

She opened her eyes, slowly at first, Reluctantly, certainly. The light was painful. Dissolving shapes.

Then she felt her hand. It was clasped tightly, even painfully.

“Come on, Jess.” Coaxing now.

Her eyes finally found and deciphered Ross. He was wearing a sling. His face was haggard. Unshaved. His thick hair looked as if it hadn’t been combed in a week. His shirt wasn’t stained, so he must have changed it, but it looked wrinkled. Slept in.

But he was alive.

He bent down and brushed a kiss along her cheek. “No coward here,” he said, and she saw something like mist in his eyes. But maybe it was just her eyes. They weren’t focusing very well.

“Little idiot,” he said. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to taunt a killer?”

“He was going to … shoot you.”

His fingers tightened around hers.

“Cullen,” she said. “It was Cullen.”

“Yes.”

“Where …”

“He’s dead,” Ross said as his fingers tightened around hers. “He died yesterday of a gunshot wound, but first he admitted to shooting Marc, trying to run you off the road. For what’s it’s worth, he claimed he didn’t want to kill you. Only scare you off. At the cabin, too. He’d hoped we would just run for it and leave the bonds. When we didn’t, he panicked.”

“But why … shoot Marc?”

“He hoped it would be blamed on me. If I were jailed, Sarah would have to sell the ranch. And it might well make you decide to sell. He was in deep financial trouble, deeper than anyone knew, with some very high-interest loans. He was about to lose the Quest. If you had agreed to sell the ranch, he could have stayed afloat awhile. Probably not long, though. Those bonds were his key to survival. He wanted them all.”

“The attic?”

“Cullen again. He’d stolen back into the house to get the letter. He was sure you knew more than you were saying. That’s the reason Timber didn’t bark that night. He knows Cullen.”

“But how did he know I had the book?”

“He hired some thugs in Atlanta. He’d borrowed money from a dubious source and they put him in touch with these people. They put a bug in the bookshop. He was convinced you knew more than you told Alex or the family.”

“And Alex?”

“Not involved at all. He was just keeping all his options open. I think he feels guilty as hell now that he didn’t realize how desperate Cullen was.”

She closed her eyes. She knew about desperation. Her father had been desperate. He’d set in motion consequences that continued until this day. She tried to move, and pain shot through her.

He leaned over and she felt his lips on her face. Tender. Loving. “Get some rest,” he whispered. “You were hit twice. One bullet hit your lung, the other your hip. Your lung collapsed and you had a touch of pneumonia.”

She remembered clouds of pain, a tube, suffocating. Her throat still hurt. So did her side whenever she moved. She also felt fuzzy, sedated. And tired. So tired.

But first she had to know one more thing. “The bonds?” she asked. “Were any of them saved?”

“Most of them,” he said. “According to Alex, the remaining bonds are probably worth a little more than the ranch would have brought. You seem to be an heiress again.”

“I don’t want any,” she said. “If I have a share, I want it to go to the others.”

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Yes. It’s fruit of a poisoned tree. They destroyed my father. If Heath hadn’t taken the money …”

“He might still have taken Lori.”

A shiver passed through Jessie. “Maybe. But my father never would have gone to the cabin that day. He never would have taken a gun. I can’t help but feel that money is more a curse than a blessing. At least for me. Not for the others.”

He nodded. His gaze was wondering. “You’re the only woman I’ve ever met that keeps turning down fortunes.”

“I still have a share in the Sunset. That’s a great deal more than I had a month ago.” She hoped she had something else. Something far more important.

With that thought in mind, she allowed her eyes to close. She was still so tired, so weak.

His fingers still clutched hers. It was all she needed at the moment.

Jessie didn’t know how long she slept this time. Some of the pain had faded, though. Her chest still burned, hurt, but she could breathe easier. When she woke again, Sarah was beside her.

Sarah. Marc and Samantha. Alex. Even Elizabeth, who must have flown in.

Marc came over and sat beside her. “We all wanted to tell you how sorry we are. If we had known how desperate Cullen was, we might have been able to help. I only hope that this doesn’t affect the way you feel about the rest of the family. We’ve all come to care for you.”

The grief in his eyes was unmistakable. Cullen was his brother. And now surely Marc knew that Cullen had been the one who shot him. History repeating itself. And greed had been at the bottom of both tragedies.

She held out her hand, took his, and squeezed it tightly. “If only I had told Sarah and Alex about the book sooner. He would have had his share of the bonds.”

“No,” he said. “None of it was your doing. He made his own decisions. The twins were unaware. They … were afraid you wouldn’t want to see them, or they would have been here.”

“There’s been too much grief already,” she said. “Of course, I don’t blame them.”

He hesitated, then added, “Thank you. Ross told us you wanted us to have the remaining bonds. I still think you should take your share.”

“I burned mine,” she said wryly. “My father should have told you about them long ago.”

His brows furrowed. “Still …”

“No. I have what I want,” she said. “I have a family.” She moved slightly, and winced as pain drove through her.

“We can talk about it later.” A smile lit his face. “I think Ross plans to stay nearby.” He ushered the others out. All except Sarah, who lingered at her bedside, a nervous smile on her face.

Her aunt tried to smile. “Ross went down for some coffee. All of them had been waiting to see you for hours. Marc even canceled some fund-raising event. And Alex has been haunting the corridors.”

“Some of the bonds were destroyed,” she said cautiously, wondering whether that had made a difference.

“You saved Ross’s life in doing so. Cullen rushed over to stamp out the flames, giving Ross enough time to get the rifle. No one faults you for that.”

Still, Jessie couldn’t let it go. “My father wanted me to get them all back to the family.”

“Ross told me about the letter.” She hesitated a moment. “I know … you believed Ross wasn’t honest with you.”

Jessie felt her stomach constrict.

“I was the one who had your home burglarized before you came here,” Sarah said slowly. “You weren’t supposed to know anything about it, much less come home early.”

“But Ross said Cullen …”

“He said he put a bug on your phone in the bookstore. He got the idea after Alex told him you’d been burglarized. He thought it more likely you would have left whatever it was in the bookstore.”

“But why …?”

“I thought your father might have left you some clue to those bonds. We knew they had never been redeemed. Those damnable things almost destroyed the family. Heath. Harding. And … I was afraid the sheriff’s office might revive the investigation into those deaths fifty years ago. But now I’m tired of secrets.”

Jessie waited.

Sarah’s eyes filled with tears. “My brothers meant everything to me. Each one of them. They had protected me and looked after me since I was a baby. But your father was always my favorite. I would … have done anything for him.” Her fingers tightened around Jessie’s. “That day … that terrible day, I saw Harding rush out of the house. I knew something was wrong and followed him. But I lost him along the way. He was going too fast. I could only guess that he was going to the cabin.

“When I neared the turnoff, I saw his car turn out into the main road. I don’t think he saw me. I drove on in. I found Heath dead of a rifle bullet and Lori … hurt. She regained consciousness, though, and demanded I call the police. She kept saying Harding had killed Heath and he would pay for it. I knew I couldn’t let Harding go to prison … or be executed. It was all Lori’s fault. She set one brother against another brother. I was wild with grief and anger and I knew that if she lived she would destroy Harding. I … couldn’t let that happen. She started for the door. I picked up the rifle and told her to stop. She wouldn’t. The rifle … went off.”

Her head fell. She was silent for a moment, then continued. “I went after Halden. We started a fire near the cabin, knowing it would spread and consume the cabin. It was easy to convince the law that Lori and Heath had been careless and must have been trapped inside. There were any number of fires that summer and once we were sure the cabin was destroyed, we stopped and phoned in an anonymous report.

“After that, no one was really surprised that Harding left town. His wife and brother were dead. It was only natural he would want to get away.

“You know the rest,” she continued. “We found the letter from Heath in his room. No one looked for the bonds because they weren’t worth anything at that time.”

“But the company became successful,” Jessie said.

“Beyond anyone’s wildest dreams. My brothers searched for the bonds over the years, then my nephews. I thought, hoped, everyone had given up on it. I … was afraid that if the book was found, it might raise questions and open an investigation. An autopsy would reveal bullet wounds.”

“Ross knew.”

“He knew I had covered up a murder,” Sarah said. “When he got in trouble once, I told him we all had our sins, actions we regretted. I was consumed with guilt and told him part of the story. I suspect he knew I did more than start a fire.”

She paused. “I tried for years to find Harding, tell him that it was safe to come home. That I had made it safe for him. Then Alex found you for me, and I wanted to make everything right. I just wanted to make sure you didn’t have that book, that it wouldn’t lead to you learning what happened with your father.

“Then I saw you and Ross together and thought perhaps I could ensure his future, too. But Cullen believed you might know something about those bonds. He was obsessed with them. I just never thought he would go so … far.”

Sarah’s confession was like new blows to Jessie’s stomach. They pounded far deeper than Cullen’s culpability. She remembered that photo, the old photo, with the six happy siblings. Part of her understood the horror of that confrontation in the cabin so many years earlier. If they had been her brothers, how far would she have gone to protect them?

“I’m sorry,” Sarah finished. “I am so sorry for everything.” She rose slowly and walked from the room. The energy was gone, the life. She looked like an old woman.

She’d left Jessie with choices. She could tell the police about the murder fifty years ago.

Or she could keep silent, as Halden had all these years. Had that silence infected his son, caused him to commit murder?

How many lies and secrets could the family endure?

A knock at the door. Then Ross came in. His face was troubled.

He sat on the side of her bed and took her hand again. “Sarah told me what she told you,” he said. “I’m so damned sorry about all of it. I should have told you everything I knew.”

She brought his hand to her mouth and kissed it. “You were protecting the one person who had protected you,” she said. “It was fifty years ago. There’s nothing to be gained to prosecuting an old woman.”

“She doesn’t have long to live,” Ross said. “The doctors say no longer than six months.”

Grief flowed through her. No matter what Sarah had done in one moment of anger so long ago, Jessie had come to love her. She had obviously paid for that decision over the years.

Jessie nodded.

Ross hesitated. “You have to do what you think is right. That’s what I love about you. What Sarah so admires about you. It wouldn’t change anything.”

Love. It was the first time he’d actually said the word.

In that moment, she felt free. And she knew that what she was doing was right.

“I love you,” she said.

His fingers tightened around hers. “If you want to leave here, I can try to find a job around Atlanta,” he said.

She knew how much that offer cost him. She loved him even more for making it. But the Sunset was her future, as it had been responsible for so much of her past. She wasn’t going to run from it again.

“No,” she said softly. “The ranch is staying in the hands of the family. It’s what Heath and … my father would have wanted. I think he somehow meant for me to decipher the mystery of the primer and go home. And,” she added, “there’s no Sunset without you.”

A slow grin came to his face. “Will you marry me? I think it’s the only way I can keep you safe.”

“I like that,” she said.

“We’d both be getting one hell of a family,” he said.

“And enlarging it.”

“A dreadful thought,” he replied sternly, but a smile played around his eyes.

“A marvelous thought,” she corrected.

He leaned down, this rough cowboy of hers. His lips touched hers with a tenderness so sweet her heart swelled to near bursting. It was a promise, a melding of spirits.

And she knew it to be true and real and strong. As strong as the land and as true as its beauty. She was, at last, home.