Catherine wrapped her arms around her waist and stood alone at the newly dug grave beside her mother’s, still holding the handful of wildflowers Lily had picked for her. She missed her parents. Both of them. Sometime during the past couple of weeks she’d seen a side of her father she’d never known. He’d gone from the selfish drunk she remembered to a doting father and soon-to-be grandfather. Yet she’d never acknowledged his changes, because she hadn’t been able to get beyond her own anger and hurt over what he’d done to them.
I didn’t know how to, God…
She knelt down beside the sandstone marker, picked up a handful of the loose dirt with her free hand, and let the dark soil fall between her fingers. The entire morning had progressed in slow motion as Pastor Landon led them through the ceremony meant to put Isaiah Morgan to rest. But none of his words could subdue the discontent stirring in her heart. Instead, while the morning sun had cast its warm rays on them, and her sisters had wept over the father they’d lost, she’d stood beside them like the matriarchal figure of the family, wrestling with her inability to forgive her father’s betrayal, and at the same time, vowing to find the man who killed him.
When the last of the procession had left, she’d promised her sisters she’d join them later at the house, but for now, there were simply too many things left unsaid. So many emotions left to sort out. She’d gone over what had happened to her father a thousand times and asked herself at least that many questions, because the connection between her father’s killer and the leader of the Masked Gang continued to haunt her. Whoever had murdered him had to have known both Harrison’s habits and those of her father. Which narrowed it down to someone who lived in Revenge. Someone who knew how to con a town into thinking he was a loyal member of the community when, in reality, his only goal was to plunder the surrounding towns—with no regard to anyone who got in his way.
A horse whinnied behind her. Catherine looked up. Corbin sat atop his gray stallion, making the perfect silhouette in the Ohio landscape. Her heart quivered. Why did her heart always come back to that one regretful moment between them when she’d told him good-bye? And now his kiss had brought those turbulent emotions to the surface all over again.
“Miss Morgan.”
“Sheriff. I was just…saying good-bye.”
She stood and brushed the dirt from her skirt. Why was it whenever she was feeling the most vulnerable, Corbin showed up? And why hadn’t she been able to bury her memories of him like she’d buried her father?
“Are you all right?”
She wanted to laugh at the question. “Am I all right? In the past two weeks, my prodigal father returned, my future brother-in-law was arrested, then my father murdered.” She shook her head and tried to stop the flow of tears she’d managed to hold at bay so far. “No. I don’t suppose I am all right.”
Corbin dismounted his horse, wishing for the dozenth time that he could undo the past and set things right for her. But he, too, had lost his father by the hand of a murderer, and there was nothing he could do to change any of it.
She stood in front of him, her face pale above her dark funeral garb. He tried to erase the image of the last time he’d dared to hold her in his arms, but instead of sealing away the past as her rejection should have, the memory only managed to stir up feelings from the past that were better left forgotten.
He jammed his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and caught her tearful gaze. “I was headed out to the Baldwin farm for supper and saw you here. I thought everyone had left.”
She brushed away a tear. “Everyone else did. I just had…a few more things to say before leaving.”
“I can’t tell you how sorry I am. If there is anything I can do…”
“As a sheriff or as a friend?”
“Both.”
She laid the handful of wildflowers on the fresh grave and started walking up the slight hill on the other side of the graveyard. Corbin followed her toward the grassy embankment that met the lazy creek below and waited for her to speak.
“A couple nights ago, I read through my mother’s letters from my father. I don’t know if they’re important, but they mention the fact that my father had gone into business with a partner, and that they had started finding a decent amount of color from their claim.”
“Who was his partner?”
“I don’t know. There was no mention of any names. And the money could have kept coming in for years, or simply a matter of weeks.”
“What if his partner came and killed him for his share of the money?”
“After all these years?” She shrugged. “I don’t know. It could make sense except for the fact that as far as I know, my father returned to Revenge with little more than the clothes on his back. According to him, there was no fortune, and I don’t know why he would lie about it.”
“But whether he actually had the money or not might not be the real issue, if someone thinks that he had it.”
“Which means, for all we know, that person could be the same one who ransacked my house looking for the money.”
Corbin watched a small-bodied veery as it skimmed the top of the water and sang its loud, whistling call. There were simply too many odd pieces to the puzzle that didn’t fit with the rest of the picture. “If your father was hiding a fortune, and someone wanted his share, wouldn’t Revenge be the first place he would check?”
“Perhaps. And there is also the question about the bullet that killed my father and his implied connection to the Masked Gang.”
They started walking back toward the small cemetery. “I spoke with the sheriff in Lancaster. It’s definitely the same type of bullet, down to the letter marking on the base, which makes it unique. And while I can’t guarantee that the same gun was used, the odds of it being two different people are slim.”
“But all that does is bring up the question again as to how was my father connected with a gang of bank robbers.” She pressed her fingers against her temple. “None of it makes sense. I may not have liked the man my father was, but that doesn’t mean I believe he was connected to a gang of criminals.”
“The only conclusion that makes any sense to me is that someone assumed he returned from Alaska because he’d found a fortune.” Corbin studied her profile. “You look tired, and staying out here won’t answer any of your questions.”
“Questions like does the pain ever lessen?”
“After losing someone you love?”
She gestured toward her parents’ graves as they passed. “That empty feeling of loss, along with wanting whoever did this to hang. I may not have agreed with all the choices my father made, but he was my father. And my sisters loved him. They were so excited for him to be back home.”
“There will always be a hole left in your heart for what you’ve lost, but one day, the pain will lessen.”
“I don’t know if mine will.” Fresh tears welled up. “I never forgave him. He asked me to, but I wouldn’t.”
A rush of grief swept through him. Words left unsaid. Others he could never take back. He knew the feelings all too well. “Don’t do this to yourself, Catherine.”
“You don’t understand.” She shook her head and stopped beneath the shade of a towering oak. “He came to me one afternoon. I was picking raspberries to make preserves for Emily. All I could think about was how he’d left us alone, and how if he’d never returned, we wouldn’t have to deal with all the hurt he’d brought us in the past. But he just wanted me to forgive him. I couldn’t even do that.”
He grasped her shoulders and turned her toward him, so she had to look at him. “He’s gone, and nothing’s going to change that. What you can change is how you react from now on. Forgive him then let him go. For your sisters’ sake, and for your own, you can’t let this destroy you.”
Because that was exactly what he’d done—vowed not to stop until he found his father’s murderer at whatever cost.
“How can I forget what happened?” Catherine’s blue eyes peered up at him. “It was as if he were here one moment and now…he’s not coming back this time.”
Corbin dropped his arms to his sides. “I know how hard it is to lose someone you love. I lost my father.”
I lost you…
Her smile tugged at the corners of his heart.
“Thank you,” she said.
“For what?”
“For telling me what I needed to hear.” She took a step back and pressed her fingertips against her lips as if she, too, were thinking about the last time they’d been together. Then she turned to leave. “I need to get back to my sisters.”
He swallowed hard. There was still one more thing he had to tell her. “Catherine, wait.”
She turned back to him.
“I was wrong the other night when I brought you home and kissed you. With all the emotions of the evening…” He hesitated. There was no excuse for what he’d done. He no longer had any claims over her. “I’m sorry.”
A blush crept up her cheeks. “Please, you don’t have to apologize. With all that has happened, I’m sure it’s natural for emotions from the past to come to the surface.”
He nodded. She was right. And once he found answers, and was no longer personally involved, he’d see things differently.
“Just promise me one thing,” she continued.
“Anything.”
“I want you to find the man who murdered my father.”
Corbin nodded. She was right. There was only one thing that was important right now. He had a killer to catch.
Catherine sat at the end of the long table in the dining room, not missing the significance of the moment. The last time the four Morgan women had eaten together at this table had been the night she erroneously announced that their father had been killed in a mining accident. How was it that two weeks later, they were burying his body?
The clicks of silverware on plates and the occasional shuffling of a chair filled in the silence of the moment. There was little to say. Their father was dead. Murdered. How did one respond to such horror? She glanced across the table at her sisters and, for a brief moment, wished she’d invited Corbin to join them. Emily sat beside Grady, and Lily next to John. Only Harrison’s seat sat vacant, with the wedding postponed indefinitely.
“I spoke to Father about what we were going to name the baby.” Emily broke the heavy silence surrounding them, reminding Catherine that life continued even in the face of death.
Grady nodded at her, and she cleared her throat. “I told him that Grady and I had decided if our child was a boy we would name him Mark Isaiah. Now that he’s gone…” Grady reached for her hand. “We…we’ve decided to name him Isaiah Morgan O’Conner.”
Catherine set her fork on her half-empty plate. “Father would be proud to know he had a grandson carrying on the family name.”
Audrey wiped the corner of her eyes with her napkin and nodded. “We have many things to celebrate. I think that’s what Father would have wanted.”
“Speaking of things to be thankful for…” John pushed back his chair and stood. “I have something I’d like to say.”
The room fell silent.
“I’ve sat with you the past few days and listened to you share memories of your family and life with your father. And I’ve realized how much I want to be a part of this. Not just of memories from the past…” He looked down at Lily. “But of future memories. Our future.”
Catherine tried to gauge Lily’s reaction. Her sister gasped and pressed her napkin against her lips as he took her hand.
“Lily, you’ve known how I feel about you for quite some time, and while I know that my timing might not be the best, I’m tired of waiting. I want to be the one who loves and protects you. What I’m trying to say is that I want you to be my wife, Lily Mae Morgan.”
Lily began to sob.
“Lily?” Catherine began.
“I’m sorry.” Lily shoved back her chair and ran from the room.
John stood up. “I’m sorry. I thought…I thought she loved me.”
“She does love you.” Catherine rose from the table. “But let me go to her. She just needs time.”
Catherine found Lily upstairs on her bed, face down, crying in her pillow. “Lily?”
“Oh, Catherine.” Lily sat up and wrapped her arms around Catherine. “I couldn’t help it. How can I think about getting married when Father’s just been buried?”
“Don’t worry. He’s just an impatient man in love.”
“I don’t want to lose him, but—”
“You have nothing to feel bad about. He should have given you more time to deal with Father’s death. He’ll understand.”
Lily hugged her pillow to her chest. “I hope so.”
“Do you want me to read to you like I used to? Maybe that would help you get your mind off things for a while.”
Lily shook her head. “Go back downstairs. Audrey and Emily need you right now. I’ll be okay. I just need some time to think.”
Catherine kissed her sister on the forehead. “Are you sure?”
Lily nodded. “Tell John I’m sorry. It’s not him.”
“I will. Try and get some sleep.”
Lily lay back down on the pillow as Catherine slipped from the room and went downstairs. John stood at the threshold waiting for her.
“Is she all right? I never should have proposed like that. I just thought…” He shook his head. “I suppose I didn’t think.”
“Everything will be fine. Just give her some time. I’m sure she’ll feel like talking to you tomorrow.”
“Catherine?” Audrey stood in the doorway.
Catherine’s heart pounded. “What’s wrong?”
“There was another robbery. This time it was in Amanda.”
A sick feeling washed over Catherine. The robberies were becoming more and more frequent. There had to be an end to all of this. “And the sheriff? Did he go to Amanda?”
Audrey nodded. “I thought you would want to know.”
Catherine pressed her hand against her mouth and fought the fear, wondering why her heart felt as if it were about to break in two.