Читать книгу Big Sky Cowboy - Jennifer Mikels - Страница 11

It was so blessed hot even at dusk. Colby scanned the sea of faces as people browsed from table to table, looking at clocks and crystal and antique jewelry. He stopped beside a table displaying Civil War guns. How hard could it be to find someone who looked like her? She was hardly ordinary with all that black hair and that trim little body.

“A good showing, huh, Colby?”

Colby let Tessa’s image drift away and forced himself to face the ex-mayor, a fiftyish, barrel-chested man with a receding hairline and a reputation as a ladies’ man since his divorce five years ago.

“It was a good idea to have this at night instead of the day. Don’t you think?”

Colby knew he was looking for a pat on the back. “I heard you suggested that to Pierce,” he said, referring to the town’s present mayor. “Real smart idea, Henry.”

Henry nodded thanks, then gestured in the direction of the tall, ruddy-faced man whose dark blond hair was threaded with gray. “Stay away from the sheriff,” he said about Dave Reingard. “He’s sure been in a foul mood for days.”

“It’s the heat,” Colby said. “Everyone’s grumpy.” But who could blame Dave? Colby mused. He had a murder to solve and a lot of pressure to do it quickly. Colby noticed that the deputy sheriff, Holt Tanner, stood near Dave. Colby doubted either man had an eye for the old furniture. They’d shown up at the antiques fair because people were tense, needed to see law enforcement was nearby.

“We need to find the killer,” he heard one woman say to her husband.

“We could all be killed in our beds,” an elderly man commented to a friend.

Concern had increased that a killer was lurking. Colby figured nothing would alleviate that worry except the sheriff announcing he’d arrested someone. Warren Parrish ranked at the top of Colby’s suspect list. Visually he followed the middle-aged man’s path as he meandered from one table to the next as if no worries existed in his life. Thin, tall, with gray hair, he puffed on a cigar, and despite the heat wore his trademark light-colored suit.

It took effort not to slug him. Since Parrish had arrived in town and announced that he was Harriet’s estranged husband, he hadn’t shown a second of genuine grief.

“Your mood is dark.”

Colby turned slowly, preparing himself to see Tessa Madison’s gray eyes. How could he have missed her? he thought. She wore a white dress with small pink-and-green flowers. Sleeveless, it brushed her ankles and scooped to a V above the shadow of her breasts, just enough to tempt his imagination. On her feet were white sandals with half a dozen straps. He eyed her pink toenails and the thin ring, a silver band, on one toe. “My mood’s okay.”

“Purple aura,” she teased.

He found himself grinning. “Not green anymore?”

“Oh, no. Definitely purple.”

Staring at her lips, not for the first time, he wondered about her taste. “Not a good sign?”

Slowly her smile spread to her eyes. “Certain auras reflect a person’s mood or future.”

Colby couldn’t stop himself. He released a snort of disbelief.

“You don’t believe that?”

He could do his own kind of taunting. “I believe in what I can see—” He paused, looked away from the gold triangle dangling from her left earlobe and fingered her necklace and the amulet, a dime-size letter X. “Touch.” Deliberately he let his skin brush hers above the scooped neckline. “Feel.” With satisfaction, he heard her suck in a breath as his knuckle caressed her skin. “What’s this?”

“It’s the runic letter for good luck.” Her gaze remained on him as she stepped back, forcing the chain to slip from his fingers. “Are you here to buy something?”

“Browsing.” Admiration whipped through him. She wouldn’t intimidate easily. “What about you?”

“I bought something.” When she gestured toward a cherrywood rolltop desk, a pleased smile lit her face. “Look. Isn’t this beautiful?” Lovingly she ran a hand over the top of the desk.

“Nice.” He had no real knowledge about what was a genuine antique, but he liked her choice. Not perfect, its top bore a few scratches. It had been more than a fine antique. It had been useful. Sturdy, long-lasting, it was also too heavy for her to move around. Colby viewed the moment as the perfect opportunity. “Do you need help getting it home?”

In a slow, measuring way, she cast a sidelong look at him.

He laughed, guessing her thought. “No strings.”

“I couldn’t ask you….”

“I volunteered.”

“I have a van. I’ll go home and get it.”

“Do you have good muscles, too?” She looked like a good wind would knock her down. He watched her eyes slice to his arms, sinewy after years of pitting his strength against a broncing animal.

“Colby.” Henry’s slap on the shoulder forced him to look away. “I heard news.” Henry spoke low, as if his news was confidential. “Diana’s back.”

Colby hadn’t seen Diana in a year, not since the day she’d placed his engagement ring on the bedside table and announced she wanted something he wouldn’t give her.

“I heard she’s staying in town for a while, might even settle down here again.”

“That so?”

Henry grinned wider. “Want me to tell her hi for you if I see her?”

“No, Henry.” Colby chose a surefire way to get Henry to leave. “Give me a hand with this desk, will you?”

Henry looked so dumbfounded at the request that Colby nearly laughed.

“You don’t have to,” Tessa protested.

“It’s yours?” Henry snuck a look to his left and then his right as if checking to see who was watching him. Uh, sorry, Colby. Got to go. Lester needs me,” he said about his brother.

Lester was nowhere in sight. “That’s okay. I can manage by myself,” Colby said.

“You shouldn’t have asked him to help me,” Tessa said once they were alone. “Most people aren’t comfort able around me.”

Because she made them believe she was weird. But was she? He stared at the desk. A sturdy, serviceable choice, the kind a practical person would favor. “This isn’t about you. It’s about his laziness.”

“He mentioned your ex-fiancée, didn’t he?”

“Diana Lynscot. She married another. Did you learn that, too?”

“Yes. I heard, too, that she’s a widow now.” Empathy filled her voice. “That’s so terrible. To be a widow and not even be thirty.”

“He was fifty-nine. And rich.” He withdrew his truck keys from a pocket. “I’ll get my truck and take this desk to your place, if you’re ready to leave.”

“I am. Thank you for playing good neighbor Sam.” He watched long, soot-black lashes flutter before she raised her eyes to him. Enough. He needed to stop noticing every little thing about her. He had enough on his mind. Like his ranch. And a prize mare.

“The mare—” She started, then paused and looked past him.

The mare. His mare? What about her? He waited for her to say more, but she was smiling at someone.

Curious, Colby looked over his shoulder.

Slim, with chin-length dark hair, his mother strolled toward them with a bright smile. “Is he being difficult, Tessa?”

“No, he isn’t, Louise,” Tessa answered.

Colby slipped an arm around his mother’s shoulder. Quit talking about me as if I took a walk.”

Her smile waned despite his humor. “Did you see him?”

“I saw him,” he answered, well aware she was discussing Parrish. “Try to ignore him, Mom.”

“I plan to.” She craned her neck. “Your father is around here somewhere. He’s thinking of buying one of those electric beer signs.” She rolled her eyes. “I do hope I can talk him out of it.” Lightly she touched Tessa’s hand. “Nice to see you again, Tessa.”

“You, too.”

“I’ll be by the store soon,” she assured with a backhand wave.

Tessa looked in another direction. “That man.” With a nod of her head, she indicated Parrish. “Is he the one who was casting gloom around you?”

“Casting gloom around me?” She had a cute way about her.

“That’s what he was doing,” she said, deadly serious.

“Yeah, that’s Parrish.” Temptation slithered through him to reach out, thread his fingers through silky-looking black hair. He wondered if the strands felt as soft as they looked. “Warren Parrish,” he added and wondered if he was losing perspective, letting his attraction for her interfere with why he was with her. “Parrish came to town and claimed he was married to my aunt. Harriet had never mentioned him or being married.”

“Have you checked this out?”

“They’re doing that.”

She met his gaze. “The sheriff?”

“Holt Tanner, the deputy sheriff, is checking on him.” He didn’t like having to sit back and let someone else handle everything. “So far there’s no new leads, no real suspects. I’ll get the truck.” On the way home, he might stop at the vet’s. The mare was prime for breeding but still wasn’t pregnant.

“She is pregnant, you know.”

It took a second for her words to sink in. This was nuts. He didn’t believe she had some psychic vision about his horse. Over his shoulder, he leveled his best no-nonsense look at her. “No, she isn’t.” He’d been informed a week ago that the test had been negative. He kept walking without another look back. She’d heard he was concerned about the mare. She was trying to mess with his head. Well, she was wasting her time. He didn’t believe in psychics, karma, transcendental babble. He’d never even liked magic shows.

“Colby.” Henry fell in step beside him. “You need to know something.”

In no mood for conversation with Henry, he only slowed his stride instead of stopping. He wasn’t twenty feet from his truck. The conversation would be brief, he hoped.

“People aren’t too sure about her—that Tessa Madison.”

That stopped him. He’d never worried what other people thought about something that was his business. “I didn’t know you knew her well enough to have an opinion,” Colby challenged. He’d always favored the underdog. That was his father’s doing. Bud Holmes had studied law for a while before his father’s death had forced him to take over the family ranch. He’d taught his son to believe in honesty and a fair chance for everyone. Colby figured Tessa Madison deserved one, too.

“Just telling you what I heard. She was arrested last year while living somewhere else. You might want to stay clear of her.”

Colby drilled a hard look at him. “Sounds like gossip to me, Henry.” What could she have done to be arrested? Fraud? A scam?

Henry started to move away. “Don’t say you weren’t warned.”

Colby scowled after him, then unlocked his truck. Minutes later, with the help of the mayor, Pierce Dalton, he’d loaded the desk onto the bed of his truck.

“That was nice of the mayor,” Tessa said while settling in the passenger’s seat. “People really like him.”

He picked up on her small talk. “He’s with Chelsea, you know,” he reminded her.

She released a soft laugh, a soft and sensuous-sounding laugh. A laugh that sent a jolt through him. “Yes, I do know that. They’re planning a wedding. And no, I’m not interested in our mayor.”

Colby was surprised. A lot of single women in town were disappointed when Pierce got engaged to Chelsea. At the end of the block, Colby maneuvered the truck around the corner to her store.

“I have a furniture dolly at the store,” she said as he braked.

Colby flicked off the ignition. Before he could respond, she jumped out of the truck. Was she always so high-energy or was he making her nervous? Meeting her on the sidewalk, he held out a hand. “Give me the keys and—”

With an airy stride, she ambled ahead of him toward the back of the house. “Don’t need them.”

Okay, Rumor wasn’t the crime capital of the nation, but good sense made most people lock doors. “Why don’t you lock?”

“It doesn’t work.”

He said the logical thing. “Then buy a new one.”

She stilled, grinned at him. “Why?”

“Don’t you worry about a burglar?”

“Why should I? Only someone who believed in what I sell would be interested in my merchandise. At present, that number is few.”

Logic. Amazing. She’d made her point with logic. “A woman alone should lock the door.”

“I do plan to contact a locksmith,” she assured him with a more serious look.

Colby liked her smile. “Did you have fun at my expense?”

“A little.” She reached for the doorknob, opened the door but paused. “You’ve been warned about me, haven’t you?”

He’d never put much faith in anything Henry said. My mother thinks you’re the best thing that’s happened to this town.”

A smile sprang to her face. “You’re kidding?”

“A breath of fresh air.”

“If only everyone thought that way,” she said wistfully.

“Tessa, is that you?” The blonde with the singsong voice charged into the storeroom. The moment she spotted him, she skidded to a stop. “Oh, hi.”

Colby grinned. She looked surprised and flustered. Hi.” He’d had his share of rodeo groupies. It harmed no one for him to be pleasant.

Tessa lifted a brow but said nothing about her assistant’s reaction. “I didn’t think you’d still be here, Marla.”

“Jolie and I were talking after I locked up. She wants to know if you think her ghost will like—”

Another voice interrupted. “Oh, don’t bother her now.” A carrot-colored redhead stood in the doorway that connected the storeroom to the front of the store. “Come on, Marla,” Jolie said, and snagged the younger woman’s arm to pull her into the store.

Colby waited until they were alone. “Her ghost?”

“She has a friendly one.”

“Is there such a thing?”

“Some spirits are malevolent.”

“How do you know if…” He stopped himself, not believing he was having a conversation about ghosts.

“I hope Marla and Jolie didn’t make you uncomfortable. They aren’t too subtle about their matchmaking. And they’re always trying to find me my soul mate.” A hint of humor sparkled in her eyes. “Regina, Marla’s sister, assured me that love would only happen if it’s in the stars.”

In the stars. That kind of thinking belonged to a romantic. He wasn’t one of them. “Isn’t there some guy somewhere?”

“No, there isn’t. Do you want to get the desk?”

“Sure.” Before stepping away, he touched a corner of the old desk. “What about this one?”

“I’m moving it outside behind the store. The neighbor two doors down wants it.”

Colby spent the next few moments transferring desks. After moving the new one inside, he left to take the other one to her neighbor. The man rattled off a dozen thank-yous before Colby left. Returning to Tessa’s store, he found her on the phone, frowning.

She set down the receiver, offered a weak smile. “Thank you for helping with the desks.”

“It’s okay.” She had trouble, had no good reason to share it with him, but she looked as if she needed a sympathetic shoulder. “You have a problem?”

“You’ll probably hear about it.” She set a cup with a whimsical drawing of a black cat on the desk. “That was my landlady. Esther Dugan.”

Esther had been his fourth-grade teacher. Never had he heard her say a harsh word to anyone. “I didn’t know she owned the place.” He wandered to a counter. “Sweet lady,” he said, staring at a deck of tarot cards.

“I always thought so. She’s also malleable.” She strained for a smile. “It’s not your problem.”

He turned and perched on the edge of the desk. “I asked.”

She shrugged. “She informed me that the rent is being raised and is due at the first of next month. I doubt I can pay that much of an increase. Perhaps six months from now when my business is more established and Mystic Treasures becomes known in Whitehorn and Billings.”

“But not yet?”

“No. Eventually I’d hoped to buy the house.” She plopped pens and pencils into the cup. “I’m sure that Leone Burton influenced her. She’s Esther’s sister-in-law. Leone came in to see me and—”

“She came in here?” He couldn’t hide his incredulity. Set in her ways, even a touch narrow-minded, Leone came across as a lot older than fifty-something. She looked old-fashioned from her hairstyle, something that resembled a bun on the top of her head, to the laced-up shoes she always wore. In Colby’s opinion, she’d be one of the last people in town to buy a crystal for seeing into the future.

“She’s on a crusade to close my business.”

Colby didn’t doubt Leone could manage to do that. Looking down, he stared at one of the tarot cards of two nudes. The Lovers was printed in bold black letters at the bottom of the card. Crazy. This was crazy. Too easily even he could fall beneath her whimsical spell. Annoyed, he dropped the lover’s card. He wanted no part of love again. And he couldn’t worry about her. He was here for his mother’s sake. She was the one he needed to think about. “What’s this?” He fingered a small vial of purple-colored liquid. “A love potion?”

“Are you in need of one?”

Over his shoulder, he sent her a you’ve-got-to-be-kidding look. “So what is this?”

“That’s bath oil. It soothes. Relaxes sore muscles.”

He grinned with a thought. “I’ve had more than my share of those.” Facing her, he fished in his shirt pocket to withdraw photographs. It was time to force the issue. “Here. Look at the photos of my aunt, see what happens.”

“Colby, I meant what I said earlier.”

“That was then. Now you have a problem. And I have a solution. Two weeks,” he said. He offered a generous amount of money for two weeks of her time, knew she needed it badly. “Think about it.”

He didn’t play fair. She could ignore his challenge but not the money. It would take care of the financial problem Esther had dropped in her lap. Still, during the two weeks he’d requested, her whole world could crumble around her. While she tried to identify Harriet’s killer, she’d give Leone an opportunity to criticize her more, convince people she was a bad element for their town.

She placed a Closed sign in the store window, then returned to the table and spread out the photographs. The possibility existed that she might not see anything. She never could be certain she’d be able to help and she never knew how much pain she might feel.

Why hadn’t she handed the photographs back to him? Why had she mentioned the mare, a pale beige horse with a white mane and tail? She’d made a mistake mentioning that horse. She’d had no reason to show off except to convince him she had power. Why was easy to answer. The attraction for Colby had descended on her so quickly, so intensely she’d had no chance to block it. It didn’t matter that she hardly knew him or that they probably had nothing in common or that he belonged to a different world.

Most of all, he belonged.

And she was an outsider. She’d hoped if she didn’t use her psychic ability she’d have a better chance at acceptance, would be able to stay in Rumor, make friends.

One of those friends was Louise Holmes, she reminded herself. How could she not help a friend? She placed fingers on one of the photos but felt nothing. She didn’t think the photographs were recent enough to give her a clue about Harriet’s killer.

If Winona Cobb and Crystal had been home, Tessa would have driven to Whitehorn to visit them, to see if they’d be more receptive. Like her, they’d weathered a storm of criticism because of psychic powers, but they and Crystal’s husband, Deputy Sloan Ravencrest, were on vacation in California. So she’d try again. Stare harder. Let emotions radiate from the photos.

One of them was of Harriet decorating a Christmas tree. The ornament in her hand was a brass horn with a red-and-green plaid ribbon. Tessa closed her eyes. A foggy vision appeared of a young woman in a Victorian dress. An heirloom, Tessa guessed about the ornament. She felt peace. Joy. Love.

Another photograph was of Harriet and Louise smiling, sitting under a patio umbrella, frosty glasses of iced tea on the round table before them. A warm summer’s breeze rustled leaves on the trees behind them. Tessa smelled lilacs, sensed affection and love between the sisters.

In the third photograph, Harriet and Henry, the town’s mayor years ago, stood before the library. It appeared to be a dedication of some sort. Harriet was distracted. Boredom? Tessa couldn’t pinpoint the woman’s feelings.

For forty minutes, she concentrated on the photographs, but nothing about them helped her name Harriet’s killer.

The roll of her stomach reminded her that she hadn’t eaten since breakfast. She gathered the photographs, set them on the kitchen table, then headed upstairs. She changed into a peach-colored, scooped-neck T-shirt, jeans and sneakers.

Half an hour ago, a drizzle had begun. Now rain plopped in a light but steady syncopated beat on the sidewalk outside her store.

After snatching her umbrella, she dashed to the van. Branches swayed beneath an angry wind. Storms rarely bothered her, but the day had carried more turmoil than usual. She was edgy. The moment she slid behind the steering wheel, she hit the button for her CD player.

As she drove, fingers of lightning reached downward, brightening the street with eerie flashes. Thunder rumbled, overpowering the lilting sounds of flutes and a Celtic melody.

She slowed the van, peered between the swishing windshield wipers, checked her rearview mirror for cars behind her. One followed at a distance. She passed the Calico Diner. Through one of the trailer’s windows, she saw a server. Her dark hair shone beneath the lights. Tessa had planned on going in for a hamburger, but judging by the cars parked in the dirt lot outside the trailer with its fifties decor, the diner was crowded. She wasn’t in the mood for that many people. She turned off the town’s main street. She’d head home and search her refrigerator for dinner.

The headlights of the car behind her glared in her rearview mirror. She squinted. Was that the same car? Why would it be?

In a test of sorts, she sped up. The car closed in. Tightly she clutched the steering wheel. As she turned down another side street, the car followed. Why was someone following her? Though some people indicated displeasure about her store, no one had ever threatened her.

Yet earlier, while she’d looked at antiques, an uneasy sensation had crept up her spine. Despite the congenial greetings and the laughter generously sprinkled among conversations, people had seemed jumpy. She’d tried to ignore the feeling. At the time, she’d thought she was feeling their apprehension. But now she knew. There had been more. More than once, she had sensed ill will from someone in the crowd.

Was that person in the car behind her? She maneuvered around another corner and toward Main Street. People. She didn’t want to drive all the way to the Calico Diner. But she needed people. Lots of people.

In the dark confines of the car behind her, desperation seized the driver. No chance could be taken. People were remembering how Winona Cobb’s niece, Crystal, in Whitehorn, who was supposed to be psychic, had helped authorities after the Montgomery girl’s death.

The possibility existed that Tessa Madison, too, had what people called sixth sense. Whatever was necessary had to be done to scare her off.

Her car stayed on Main Street, then turned into the parking lot adjacent to Joe’s Bar. It looked packed with the expected Friday-night crowd. Did she know she was being followed? That was good. If she was scared, she’d back off.

She’d better.