Читать книгу Proof Of Innocence - Lisa Jackson - Страница 13

CHAPTER FIVE

THE BUILDINGS OF the Lazy W, made mostly of rough-hewn cedar and fir, stood proudly on the flat land comprising the ranch and were visible from the main highway. Tory wheeled the pickup onto the gravel lane that was lined with stately pines and aspen and led up to the house.

Purebred horses grazed in the fields surrounding the stables, whole spindly legged foals romped in the afternoon sunlight.

Tory’s heart swelled with pride for the Lazy W. Three hundred acres of high plateau held together by barbed wire and red metal posts had been Tory’s home for all of her twenty-seven years and suddenly it seemed that everyone wanted to take it away from her. Trask, with his damned investigation of the horse swindle of five years ago, was about to ruin her credibility as a Quarter Horse breeder by reminding the public of the shady dealings associated with the Lazy W.

Tall grass in the meadow ruffled in the summer breeze that blew across the mountains. White clouds clung to the jagged peaks of the Cascades, shadowing the grassland. This was the land she loved and Tory would fight tooth and nail to save it—even if it meant fighting Trask every step of the way. He couldn’t just come marching back into her life and destroy everything she had worked for in the past five years!

Tory squinted against the late-afternoon sun as she drove the pickup into the parking lot near the barn and killed the engine. The warm westerly wind had removed any trace of the rainstorm that had occurred the night before and waves of summer heat shimmered in the distance, distorting the view of the craggy snow-covered mountains.

She pushed her keys into the pocket of her jeans and walked to the paddock where Governor was still separated from the rest of the horses. Eldon, one of the ranch hands, was dutifully walking the bay stallion.

“How’s our patient?” Tory asked as she patted Governor on the withers and lifted his hoof. Governor snorted and flattened his ears against his head. “Steady, boy,” Tory murmured softly.

“Still sore, I’d guess,” the fortyish man said with a frown. His weathered face was knotted in concern.

“I’d say so,” Tory agreed. “Has he been favoring it?”

“Some.”

“What about his temperature?” Tory asked as she looked at the sensitive tissue within the hoof.

“Up a little.”

She looked up and watched Governor’s ribs, to determine if his breathing was accelerated, but it wasn’t.

“I’ll call the vet. Maybe Anna should have a look at it.”

“Wouldn’t hurt.”

She released Governor’s hoof and dusted her hands on her jeans. “I’ll see if she can come by tomorrow; until then we’ll just keep doing what we have been for the past two days.”

“You got it.”

Tory, with the intention of pouring a large glass of lemonade once she was inside the house, walked across the gravel parking area and then followed a worn path to the back porch. Alex was lying in the shady comfort of a juniper bush. He wagged his tail as she approached and Tory reached down to scratch the collie behind his ears before she opened the door to the kitchen.

“Tory? Is that you?” Keith yelled from the vicinity of the den when the screen door banged shut behind her.

“Who else?” she called back just as she heard his footsteps and Keith entered the homey kitchen from the hall. His young face was troubled and dusty. Sweat dampened his hair, darkening the strands that were plastered to his forehead. “You were expecting someone?” she teased while reaching into the refrigerator for a bag of lemons.

“Of course not. I was just waiting for you to get back.”

“That sounds ominous,” she said, slicing the lemons and squeezing them on the glass juicer. “I’m making lemonade, you want some?”

Keith seemed distracted. “Yeah. Sure,” he replied before his gray eyes darkened. “What took you so long in town?”

Tory looked up sharply. Keith hadn’t acted like himself since Trask was back in Oregon. “What is this, an inquisition?”

“Hardly.” Keith ran a hand over his forehead, forcing his hair away from his face. “Rex and I were just talking...about what happened last night.”

“You mean the calf?” she asked.

“Partially.” Keith had taken the wooden salt shaker off the table and was pretending interest in it.

Tory felt her back stiffen slightly as she poured sugar and the lemon juice into a glass pitcher. “And the rest of your discussion with Rex centered on Trask, is that it?”

“Right.”

At that moment Rex walked into the room. He fidgeted, removed his hat and worked the brim in his gnarled fingers.

“How about a glass of lemonade?” Tory asked, as much to change the direction of the conversation as to be hospitable.

“Sure,” the foreman responded. A nervous smile hovered near the corners of his mouth but quickly faded as he passed a hand over his chin. “I thought you’d like to know that all of the horses and cattle are alive and accounted for.”

Relief seeped through Tory’s body. So the calf was an isolated incident—so much for Trask’s conspiracy theories about vague and disturbing warnings in the form of dead livestock. “Good. What about any other signs of trouble?”

Rex shook his head thoughtfully. “None that I could see. None of the animals escaped through that hole in the fence, and we couldn’t find any other places where the fence was cut or tampered with.”

Tory was beginning to feel better by the minute. The dark cloud of fear that had begun to settle over her the evening before was slowly beginning to dissipate. “And the fence that was damaged has been repaired?”

“Yep. Right after you brought the deputy out to look at the calf. Did it myself.”

“Thanks, Rex.”

“All part of the job,” he muttered, avoiding her grateful glance.

“Well, then, I guess the fact that the rest of the livestock is okay is good news,” Tory said, wincing a little as she remembered the unfortunate heifer. Neither man responded. “Now, I think we should take some precautions to see that this doesn’t happen again.”

Rex smiled slightly. “I’m open to suggestion.”

“Wait a minute, Tory,” Keith cut in abruptly as Tory turned back to the pitcher of lemonade and began adding ice water to the cloudy liquid. “Why are you avoiding the subject of McFadden?”

“Maybe I’m just tired of it,” Tory said wearily. She had hoped to steer clear of another confrontation about Trask but knew the argument with her brother was inevitable. She poured the pale liquid into three glasses filled with ice and offered a glass to each of the men.

“McFadden’s not going to just walk away from this, you know,” Keith said.

“I know.”

“Then for Pete’s sake, Tory, we’ve got to come up with a plan to fight him.”

“A plan?” Tory repeated incredulously. She had to laugh as she took a sip of her drink. “You’re beginning to sound paranoid, Keith. A plan! People who make up plans are either suffering from overactive imaginations or are trying to hide something. Which are you?”

“Neither. I’m just trying to avoid another scandal, that’s all,” Keith responded, his eyes darkening. “And maybe save this ranch in the process. The last scandal nearly destroyed the Lazy W as well as killed Dad, or don’t you remember?”

“I remember,” Tory said, some of the old bitterness returning.

“Look, Sis,” Keith pleaded, his voice softening a little. “I’ve studied the books and worked out some figures. The way I see it, the Lazy W has about six months to survive. Then the note with the bank is due, right?”

“Right,” Tory said on a weary sigh.

“The only way the bank will renew it is if we can prove that we can run this place at a profit. Now you’re close, Tory, damned close, but all it takes is for all the old rumors to start flying again. Once people are reminded of what Dad was supposedly involved in, we’ll lose buyers as quickly as you can turn around, and there go the profits.”

“You don’t know that—”

“I sure as hell do.”

Tory shifted and avoided Keith’s direct stare. She knew what he was going to say before the words were out.

“The only way the Lazy W can stay in business is to sell those Quarter Horses you’ve been breeding. You know it as well as I do. And no one is going to touch those horses with a ten-foot pole if they think for one minute that the horses might be part of a fraud. The reputation of this ranch is...well, shady or at least it was, all because of the Quarter Horse scam five years ago. If all the publicity is thrown into the public eye again, your potential buyers are going to dry up quicker than Devil’s Creek in a hot summer.”

“And you think that’s what will happen if Trask is allowed to investigate his anonymous letter?”

“You can count on it.”

Tory’s eyes moved from the stern set of Keith’s jaw to Rex. “You’ve been awfully quiet. What do you think?”

“I think what I always have,” Rex said, rubbing his chin. “McFadden is trouble. Plain and simple.”

“There’s no doubt about that,” Tory thought aloud, “but I don’t know what any of us can do about it.”

“Maybe you can talk him out of dredging everything up again,” Keith suggested. “However, I’d like it better if you had nothing to do with the son of a bitch.”

Tory glared at her younger brother. “Let’s leave reference to Trask’s parentage and any other ridiculous insults out of this, okay? Now, how do you know he’ll be back?”

“Oh, he’ll be back all right. He’s like a bad check; he just comes bouncing back. As sure as the sun comes up in the morning, McFadden will be back.”

Tory shook her head and frowned into her glass. She swirled the liquid and stared at the melting ice. “So if he returns to the Lazy W, you want me to try and persuade him to ignore the letter and all this nonsense about another man being involved in the Quarter Horse swindle and Jason’s death. Have I got it right?”

“Essentially,” Keith said.

“Not exactly an intricate plan.”

“But the only one we’ve got.”

Tory set her glass on the counter and her eyes narrowed. “What if the letter is true, Keith? What if another person was involved in Jason’s death, a man who could, perhaps, clear Dad’s name?”

Keith smiled sadly, suddenly old beyond his years. “What’s the chance of that happening?”

“’Bout one in a million, I’d guess,” Rex said.

“Less than that,” Keith said decisively, “considering that McFadden wouldn’t be trying to clear Dad’s name. He’s the guy who put Dad in the prison in the first place, remember? I just can’t believe that you’re falling for his line again, Sis.”

Tory paled slightly. “I’m not.”

“Give me a break. You’re softening to McFadden and you’ve only seen him once.”

“Maybe I’m just tired of everyone trying to manipulate me,” Tory said hotly. She stalked across the room and settled into one of the chairs near the table. “This whole thing is starting to reek of a conspiracy or at the very least a cover-up!”

“What do you mean?” Keith seemed thoroughly perplexed. Rex avoided Tory’s gaze and stared out the window toward the road.

“I mean that I ran into Neva McFadden at the feed store. She wanted to talk to me, for crying out loud! Good Lord, the woman hasn’t breathed a word to me since the trial and today she wanted to talk things over. Can you believe it?”

“‘Things’ being Trask?” Keith guessed.

“Right.” Tory smiled grimly at the irony of it all. Neva McFadden was the last person Tory would have expected to beg her to stay away from Trask and his wild theories.

“You know that she’s in love with him, don’t you?” Keith said and noticed the paling of Tory’s tanned skin. Whether his sister denied it or not, Tory was still holding a torch for McFadden. That thought alone made Keith’s blood boil.

“She didn’t say so.”

“I doubt if she would: at least not to you.”

“Maybe not,” Tory whispered.

“So anyway, what did she want to talk about?”

“About the same thing you’re preaching right now. That Trask’s anonymous letter was just a prank, that we should leave the past alone, that her son would suffer if the scandal was brought to the public’s attention again. She thought it would be wise if I didn’t see Trask again.”

“Too late for that,” Rex said, removing his hat and running his fingers through his sweaty silver hair as he stared through the window. His thick shoulders slumped and his amiable smile fell from his face. “He’s coming down the drive right now.”

“Great,” Keith muttered.

Tory’s heart began to pound with dread. “Maybe we should tell him everything we discussed just now.”

“That would be suicide, Tory. Our best bet is to convince him that his letter was nothing more than a phony—”

A loud rap on the door announced Trask’s arrival. Keith let out a long breath of air. “Okay, Sis, you’re on.”

Tory’s lips twisted cynically. “If you’re looking for an Oscar-winning performance, you’re going to be disappointed.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Keith asked warily.

“Haven’t you ever heard the expression ‘You catch more flies with honey than with vinegar’?” Without further explanation, she walked down the short corridor, ignored the round of swearing she heard in the kitchen and opened the front door.

Trask was about to knock again. His fist was lifted to his shoulder and his jaw was set angrily. At the sight of Tory, her gray-green eyes sparkling with a private joke, he was forced to smile and his angular features softened irresistibly. When Senator McFadden decided to turn on the charm, the effect was devastating to Tory’s senses, even though she knew she couldn’t trust him.

“I thought maybe you were trying to give me a not-so-subtle hint,” Trask said.

Tory shook her head and laughed. “Not me, senator. I’m not afraid to speak my mind and tell you you’re not welcome.”

“I already knew that.”

“But you’re back.” She leaned against the door, not bothering to invite him inside, and studied the male contours of his face. Yes, sir, the senator was definitely a handsome man, she thought. Five years hadn’t done him any harm—if anything, the added maturity was a plus to his appearance.

“I hoped that maybe you’d reconsidered your position and thought about what I had to say.”

“Oh, I’ve thought about it a lot,” Tory replied. “No one around here will let me forget it.”

“And what have you decided?” Cobalt-blue eyes searched her face, as if seeing it for the first time. Tory’s heart nearly missed a beat.

“Why don’t you come inside and we’ll talk about it?” Tory stepped away from the door allowing him to pass. Keith and Rex were already in the den and when Trask walked through the archway, the tension in the room was nearly visible.

“It takes a lot of guts for you to come back here,” Keith said. He walked over to the bar and poured himself a stiff drink.

“I said I would,” Trask responded. A confident grin contrasted with the fierce intensity of his gaze.

“But I can’t believe that you honestly expect Tory or anyone at the Lazy W to help you on...this wild-goose chase of yours.”

“I just want to look into it.”

“Why?” Keith demanded, replacing the bottle and lifting the full glass to his lips.

Trask crossed his arms over his chest. “I want to know the truth about my brother’s death.”

Keith shook his head. “So all of a sudden the testimony at the trial wasn’t enough. The scandal wasn’t enough. Sending an innocent man to jail wasn’t enough. You want more.”

“Only the truth.”

Keith’s jaw jutted forward. “It’s a little too late, don’t ya think, McFadden? You should have been more interested in the truth before taking that witness stand and testifying against Calvin Wilson.”

“If your father would have told his side of the story, maybe I wouldn’t be here right now.”

“Too late for second-guessing, McFadden,” Keith said, his voice slightly uneven. “The man’s dead.”

An uncomfortable silence filled the room. Rex shifted restlessly and pushed his Stetson over his eyes. “I’ve got to get home,” he said. “Belinda will be looking for me.” He headed toward the door and paused near the outer hallway. “I’ll see ya in the morning.”

“Good night, Rex,” Tory said just as the sound of the front door slamming shut rattled through the building.

“I think maybe you should leave, too,” Keith said, taking a drink of his Scotch and leaning insolently against the rocks of the fireplace. He glared angrily at Trask and didn’t bother to hide his contempt. “We’re not interested in hearing what you have to say. You said plenty five years ago.”

“I didn’t perjure myself, if that’s what you’re insinuating.”

“I’m not insinuating anything, McFadden. I believe in telling it straight out.”

“So do I.”

“Then you’ll understand when I ask you to leave and tell you that we don’t want any part of your plans to drag up all the scandal about the horse swindle again. It won’t do anyone a bit of good, least of all the people on this ranch. You’ll have to find another way to get elected this time, senator.”

Trask leaned a hip against the back of a couch and turned his attention away from Keith to Tory. His blue eyes pierced hers. “Is that how you feel?” he demanded.

Tory looked at Trask’s ruggedly handsome face and tried to convince herself that Trask had used her, betrayed her, destroyed everything she had ever loved, but she couldn’t hide from the honesty in his cold blue stare. He was dangerous. As dangerous as he had ever been, and still Tory’s heart raced at the sight of him. She knew her fascination for the man bordered on lunacy. “I agree with Keith,” she said at last. “I can’t see that opening up this whole can of worms will accomplish anything.”

“Except make sure that a guilty party is punished.”

“So you’re still looking for retribution,” she whispered, shaking her head. “It’s been five years. Nothing is going to change what happened. Neva’s right. Nothing you can do or say will bring Jason back.”

“Neva?” Trask repeated. “You’ve been talking to her?” His features froze and the intensity of his stare cut Tory to the bone.

“Today, she ran into me on the street.”

“And the conversation just happened to turn to me.” The corners of his mouth pulled down.

Tory’s head snapped upward and her chin angled forward defiantly. “She’s worried about you, senator, as well as about her son. She thinks you’re on a personal vendetta that will do nothing more than open up all the old wounds again, cause more pain, stir up more trouble.”

Trask winced slightly and let out a disgusted sound. “I’m going to follow this through, Tory. I think you can understand. It’s my duty to my brother. He was murdered, for God’s sake! Murdered! And one of the men responsible might still be free!

“The way I see it, you have two options: you can be with me or against me, but I’d strongly suggest that you think about all of the alternatives. If your father was innocent, as you so self-righteously claim, you’ve just gotten the opportunity to prove it.”

“You would help me?” she asked skeptically.

“Don’t believe him, Tory,” Keith insisted, walking between Tory and Trask and sending his sister pleading glances. “You trusted him once before and all he did was spit on you.”

Trask’s eyes narrowed as he focused on Tory’s younger brother. “Maybe you’d better just stay out of this one, Keith,” he suggested calmly. “This is between your sister and me.”

“I don’t think—”

“I can handle it,” Tory stated, her gaze shifting from Trask to Keith and back again. Her shoulders were squared, her lips pressed together in determination. Fire sparked in her eyes.

Keith understood the unspoken message. Tory would handle Trask in her own way. “All right. I’ve said everything I needed to say anyway.” He pointed a long finger at Trask. “But as far as I’m concerned, McFadden, you have no business here.” Keith strode out of the room, grabbed his hat off the wooden peg in the entry hall, jerked open the front door and slammed it shut behind him.

Trask watched Keith leave with more than a little concern. “He’s got more of a temper than you did at that age.”

“He hates you,” Tory said simply.

Trask smiled wryly and pushed his fingers through his hair. “Can’t say as I blame him.”

“I hate you, too,” Tory lied.

“No, no you don’t.” He saw that she was about to protest and waved off her arguments before they could be voiced. “Oh, you hate what I did all right. And, maybe a few years back, you did hate me, or thought that you did. But now you know better.”

“I don’t know anything of the kind.”

“Sure you do. You know that I haven’t come back here to hurt you and you know that I only did what I did five years ago because I couldn’t lie on the witness stand. The last thing I wanted to do was send your dad to prison—”

Tory desperately held up a palm. “Stop!” she demanded, unable to listen to his lies any longer. “I—I don’t want to hear any more of your excuses or rationalizations—”

“It’s easier to hate me, is that it?”

“No—yes! God, yes. I can’t have you come in here and confuse me and I don’t want to be a part of this...investigation or whatever you want to call it. I don’t care about anonymous letters.”

“Or dead calves?”

“One has nothing to do with the other,” she said firmly, though she had to fight to keep her voice from trembling.

Trask studied his hands before lifting his eyes to meet her angry gaze. “I think you’re wrong, Tory. Doesn’t it strike you odd that everyone you know wants you to avoid me?”

She shook her head and looked at the ceiling. “Not after the hell you put me through five years ago,” she whispered.

“You mean that it hasn’t crossed your mind that someone is deliberately trying to keep you out of this investigation for a reason?”

“Such as?”

“Such as hiding the guilty person’s identity.”

“I can’t be involved in this,” Tory said, as if to convince herself. She had to get away from Trask and his damned logic. When she was around him, he turned her mind around. She began walking toward the door but stopped dead in her tracks when he spoke.

“Are you afraid of the truth?”

“Of course not!” She turned and faced him.

He pushed himself away from the couch. “Then maybe it’s me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said, but as he advanced upon her, she saw the steadfastness of his gaze. It dropped from her eyes to her mouth and settled on the rising swell of her breasts. “I’m not afraid of you, Trask. I never have been. Not even after what you did to me.”

He stopped when he was near her and his eyes silently accused her of attempting to deceive him. When he reached forward to brush a wayward strand of hair away from her face, his fingertip touched her cheek, but she didn’t flinch. “Then maybe you’re afraid of yourself.”

“That’s nonsense.”

“I don’t think so.” His fingers wrapped around her nape and tilted her head upward as he lowered his head and captured her lips with his. His mouth was warm and gentle, his tongue quick to invade her parted lips. Memories of hot summer nights, star-studded skies and bodies glistening with the sheen of perfect afterglow filled her mind. How easily she could slip backward...

The groan from deep in his throat brought her crashing back to a reality as barren as the desert. He didn’t love her, had never loved her, but was attempting once again to use her. As common sense overtook her, Tory tried to step backward but the arms surrounding her tightened, forcing her body close.

“Let go of me,” she said, her eyes challenging.

“I don’t think so. Letting you go was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made and believe me, I’ve made my share. I’m not about to make the same mistake twice.”

“You may have made a lot of mistakes, Trask, but you didn’t have a choice where I was concerned. I swore that I’d never let you hurt me again, and it’s a promise to myself that I intend to keep.”

The warm hands at the base of her spine refused to release her. Instead they began to slowly massage her, and through the thin fabric of her cotton blouse, she could feel Trask’s heat. It seeped through the cloth and warmed her skin, just as it had in the past.

His lips caressed her face, touching the sensitive skin of her eyelids and cheeks.

“I can’t let this happen,” she whispered, knowing that she was unable to stop herself.

Her skin began to flush and the yearnings she had vowed dead reawakened as his mouth slid down her throat and his hands came around to unbutton her blouse. As the fabric parted Tory could feel his lips touching the hollow of her throat and the swell of her breasts.

“Trask, please...don’t,” she said, swallowing against the desire running wildly in her blood.

His tongue circled the delicate ring of bones at the base of her throat while his hands opened her blouse and pushed it gently off her shoulders. “I’ve always loved you, Tory,” he said as he watched her white breasts rise and fall with the tempo of her breathing.

Her rosy nipples peeked seductively through the sheer pink lace of her bra and the swelling in his loins made him say things he would have preferred to remain secret. “Love me,” he pleaded, lifting his gaze to her green eyes.

“I...I did, Trask,” she replied, trying to think rationally. She reached for the blouse that had fallen to the floor, but his hand took hold of her wrist. “I loved you more than any woman should love a man and...and I paid for that love. I will never, never make that mistake again!”

The fingers over her wrist tightened and he jerked her close to his taut body. With his free hand he tilted her face upward so that she was forced to stare into his intense blue eyes. “You can come up with all the reasons and excuses you want, lady, but they’re all a pack of lies.”

“You should know, senator. You wrote the book on deceit.”

His jaw whitened and his lips twisted cynically. “Why don’t you look in the mirror, Tory, and see the kind of woman you’ve become: a woman who’s afraid of the truth. You won’t face the truth about your father and you won’t admit that you still care for me.”

“There’s a big difference between love and lust.”

“Is there?” He cocked a thick brow dubiously and ran his finger down her throat, along her breastbone to the front clasp of her bra. “What we felt for each other five years ago, what would you call that?”

“All those emotions were tangled in a web of lies, Trask. Each one a little bigger than the last. That’s how I’ve come to think of what we shared: yesterday’s lies.” He released her slowly and didn’t protest when she reached for her blouse and slipped it on.

“Then maybe it’s time to start searching for the truth.”

“By reopening the investigation into your brother’s death?”

“Yes. Maybe if we set the past to rest, we could think about the future.”

Tory let out a disgusted sound. “No way, senator. You know what they say, ‘You can never go back.’ Well, I believe it. Don’t bother to tease me with vague promises about a future together, because I don’t buy it. Not anymore. I’ve learned my lesson where you’re concerned. I’m not as gullible as I used to be, thank God.” She stepped away from him and finished buttoning her blouse.

His lips tightened and he pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers, as if trying to thwart a potential headache. “Okay, Tory, so you aren’t interested in a relationship with me—the least you can do is help me a little. If you really believe your father’s name can be cleared, I’m offering you the means to do it.”

“How?”

“I want to go up to Devil’s Ridge tomorrow.”

The request made her heart stop beating. Devil’s Ridge was a piece of land not far from the Lazy W. It had once been owned by her father and Calvin had willed the forty acre tract in the foothills of the Cascades to Keith. Devil’s Ridge was the parcel of land where the Quarter Horses were switched during the swindle; the piece of land that had proved Calvin Wilson’s involvement in the scam.

“Tory, did you hear me?”

“Yes.”

“Will you come with me?”

No! I can’t face all of the scandal again. “If you promise that no one else will know about it.” Tory saw the questions in his eyes and hastened to explain. “I don’t want any publicity about this, until you’re sure of your facts, senator.”

“Fair enough.” He studied her face for a minute. “Are you with me on this, Tory?”

“No, but I won’t hinder you either,” she said, tired of arguing with Trask, Keith, Neva and the whole damned world. “If you want permission to wander around Devil’s Ridge, you’ve got it. And I’ll go with you.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to keep my eye on you, senator.”

“You still don’t trust me, do you?” he asked.

“I can’t let myself.” It’s my way of protecting myself against you.

A cloud of anguish darkened his eyes but was quickly dispersed. “Then I’ll be here around noon tomorrow.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

He had started toward the door, but turned at the bittersweet words. “If only I could believe that,” he said before opening the door and disappearing through it.

Tory watched his retreating figure through the glass. The late-afternoon sun was already casting lengthening shadows over the plains of the Lazy W as Trask strode to his pickup and, without looking backward, drove away.

* * *

“WHAT BUSINESS IS it of yours?” Trask demanded of his sister-in-law. She was putting the finishing touches on a birthday cake for Nicholas, swirling the white frosting over the cake as if her brother-in-law’s tirade was of little, if any, concern. “Why did you confront Tory?”

“It is my business,” Neva threw back coolly as she surveyed her artwork and placed the knife in the empty bowl. When she turned to face Trask, her small chin was jutted in determination. “We’re talking about the death of my husband, for God’s sake. And you’re the one who brought me into it when you started waving that god-awful note around here yesterday afternoon.”

“But why did you try to convince Tory to stay out of it? She could help me.”

Neva turned world-weary brown eyes on her brother-in-law. “Because I thought she might be able to get through to you. You don’t listen to many people, Trask. Not me. Not your advisors in Washington. No one. I thought maybe there was a chance that Tory might beat some common sense into that thick skull of yours.”

“She tried,” Trask admitted.

“But failed, I assume.”

“This is something I have to do, Neva.” Trask placed his large hands on Neva’s slim shoulders, as if by touching he could make her understand.

With difficulty, Neva ignored the warmth of Trask’s fingers. “And damn the consequences, right? Your integrity come hell or high water.” She wrestled free of his grip.

“You’re blowing this way out of proportion.”

“Me?” she screamed. “What about you? You get one crank letter and you’re ready to tear this town apart, dig up five-year-old dirt and start battling a new crusade.” She smiled sadly at the tense man before her. “Only this time I’m afraid you’ll get hurt, Don Quixote; the windmills might fight back and hurt you as well as your Dulcinea.”

“Whom?”

“Dulcinea del Toboso, the country girl whom Don Quixote selects as the lady of his knightly devotion. In this case, Victoria Wilson.”

“You read too much,” he said.

“Impossible.”

Trask laughed despite the seriousness of Neva’s stare. “Then you worry too much.”

“It comes with the territory of being a mother,” she said, picking up a frosting-laden beater and offering it to him. “Someone needs to worry about you.”

He declined the beater. “I get by.”

She studied the furrows of his brow. “I don’t know, Trask. I just don’t know.”

“Just trust me, Neva.”

The smile left her face and all of the emotions she had been battling for five long years tore at her heart. “I’d trust you with my life, Trask. You know that.”

“Neva—” He took a step closer to her but she walked past him to the kitchen window. Outside she could watch Nicholas romp with the puppy Trask had given him for his birthday.

“But I can’t trust you with Nicholas’s life,” she whispered, knotting her fingers in the corner of her apron. “I just can’t do that and you have no right to ask me.” Tears began to gather in her large eyes and she brushed them aside angrily.

Trask let out a heavy sigh. “I’m going up to Devil’s Ridge tomorrow.”

“Oh, God, no.” Neva closed her eyes. “Trask, don’t—”

“This is something I have to do,” he repeated.

“Then maybe you’d better leave,” she said, her voice nearly failing her. Trask was as close to a father to Nicholas as he could be, considering the separation of more than half a continent. If she threw Trask out, Nicholas would never forgive her. “Do what you have to do.”

“What I have to do is stay here for Nicholas’s birthday party.”

Neva smiled through her tears. “You’re a bastard, you know, McFadden; but a charming one nonetheless.”

“This is all going to work out.”

“God, I hope so,” she whispered, once again sneaking a glance at her dark-haired son and the fluff of tan fur with the beguiling black eyes. “Nicholas worships the ground you walk on, you know.”

Trask laughed mirthlessly. “Well, if he does, he’s the only one in town. There’s no doubt about it, I wouldn’t win any popularity contests in Sinclair right now.”

“Oh, I don’t know, you seem to have been able to worm your way back into Tory’s heart.”

“I don’t think so.”

“We’ll see, senator,” Neva mused. “I think Victoria Wilson has never gotten you out of her system.”