Chapter Seven
Dub had woken after a restless night. He’d lain in bed way too late, trying to understand what it was about Clancy that he found so appealing.
She’d made it clear how she felt about him and his kind.
So why had he kept trying? How many times did he need to hear no, to get it through his head that the woman wasn’t interested?
He hated to think he might be as stubborn as his father.
After finishing his chores, he headed for the house, telling himself Clancy would probably be gone. His father had said he was going to drive her to the highway—unless Dub wanted to take her.
“Thanks, but I’ll pass,” he’d told him earlier this morning before even the sun was up—let alone their house guest. Even as he’d said no, he was still tempted.
The woman just brought out stupid in him, he told himself.
He couldn’t believe that he’d fallen head over heels the first time he’d laid eyes on her.
Love at first sight. Even now he didn’t want to believe it. But that was what it had been. He’d taken one good look at her and proclaimed that he was going to marry her.
It was absurd, and he wouldn’t have admitted it even to his best friend, but he’d foolishly blurted it out right there in the convenience store. He remembered the look on her face. Surprise, and then her reaction to his audacity.
“I highly doubt that because I don’t date cowboys for this very reason.”
He’d laughed, thinking in time she’d come around. He couldn’t imagine making a bigger fool of himself. Worse, he hadn’t changed his fool mind.
As he pushed open the door into the house, he heard voices and recognized Clancy’s.
She hadn’t left yet? He hesitated, then kicked off his muddy boots to pull on a worn, clean pair by the door before walking into the kitchen.
The moment he saw her, his heart did that crazy little thing in his chest it always did.
Honestly, he didn’t know why. Clancy wasn’t what a man would call beautiful.
Not even cute, exactly. Yet something about that face drew him like metal to magnet.
Her long dark curly hair was always pulled up as if she hadn’t given it any thought.
She had that same “I don’t take myself too seriously” kind of look on her face.
Maybe that was what had made him do a double take the first time he’d laid eyes on her.
The woman had an attitude that suggested nothing could impress her—especially some cowboy like him.
But he swore that challenge he glimpsed in those honey-brown eyes dared him to try. Surprise me, her look said. Go ahead, cowboy, show me what you’ve got, it teased.
Damned if he hadn’t wanted to show her how wrong she was not just about him, but about the two of them. She saw him as just another smooth-talking cowboy and had shut him down. Yet he kept coming back for more as if he didn’t have the sense God gave him.
As he walked into the kitchen, he couldn’t help but grin. There was just something about this woman. “Good morning, although it’s almost noon.” She mugged a face at him. His father didn’t seem to notice.
“Got some bad news,” John said and proceeded to fill him in on the reservoir dam breaking and washing away the bridge.
He glanced at Clancy, wondering how she was taking this news. “Sounds like you’re going to be staying for a while,” he said, pleased in spite of everything. Though fixing the bridge was going to be a major undertaking.
“Clancy says she wants to help out while she’s here,” his father was saying. “I figure you can show her what needs to be done out in the barn.”
Dub dragged his gaze away from Clancy to shoot a look at his father. “Help in the barn? I really don’t think—”
“That I can be of any help?” she interrupted. There was that challenge again in her eyes when he met them.
“Pardon me,” he said to her. “I thought ranch chores would be the last thing you’d be interested in, given the way you feel about cowboys.”
“Why don’t you rustle up some clothing for her while she has breakfast,” his father said. “She’ll need warm clothing and boots. I need to get down to the bridge to help Tanner.”
Under normal circumstances, Dub would have balked at babysitting a guest while his father and brother did the hard work.
But there was nothing normal about Clancy being here.
Was this what fate felt like? He couldn’t believe it when she’d shown up here at the ranch.
It had to be fate or destiny or something even more powerful.
In the meantime, she thought she wanted to help out in the barn? He chuckled silently to himself as he started to leave to find her something to wear. She was about to find out what real cowboys did on a ranch.
But as he turned to go back the way he’d come, he saw her get a text.
He watched her read it, her eyes widening and all the color draining from her face.
As if sensing him watching her, she quickly pocketed her phone.
Whatever news she’d gotten, it had shaken her badly.
And he’d thought that nothing could rattle her cool demeanor. Clearly, he’d been wrong.
His father had been busy dishing up breakfast for her at the stove, so he hadn’t noticed. But seeing her reaction to the text made him question what Clancy been doing out on that highway in the thunderstorm last night. If her car had broken down, why hadn’t she stayed with it and called for help?
Something was very wrong, he realized as he watched her take a seat at the table and pretend an interest in the food his father put in front of her.
It struck him how little he knew about this woman he was determined to marry. Who was Clancy Roberts and what was she doing here? He recalled what his brother had said the night before after Clancy had gone to the guest room.
“What do you even know about her?” Tanner had demanded of their father. Clearly, John Crawford had known even less than Dub.
“She needed help. I helped her,” their father said. “That’s what we do around here.”
Tanner had shaken his head. “Something’s fishy about this and I’m going to find out what it is. She says her car broke down, but when you picked her up you said you didn’t see a car.”
“What difference does it make? She was hitchhiking in the pouring rain and needed a ride,” their father said. “Sometimes it is that simple.”
Dub hardly ever agreed with his older brother, but after what he’d just witnessed when Clancy read that text, he too wanted to know more about this woman now living in their house. He couldn’t shake the feeling that she was running from some kind of trouble.
* * *
CLANCY COULD BARELY choke down any of the breakfast the rancher had made for her. She kept thinking about the text from Sarah. Someone else had been murdered at Shady Rest? Not just someone. Jane Cooke.
Dub returned to say he’d left the clothing at the door into the guest room. “Once you’re finished with breakfast, change and come on out to the barn,” he said, hesitating as he seemed to study her. Had he seen her reaction when she’d read the text from Sarah? He must have.
“I won’t be long,” she said, just wanting to be alone.
Jane Cooke was dead? It had her mind racing.
She had a terrible feeling that she might have gotten the woman killed.
Yet she couldn’t identify the killer. She did however have a bag of jewelry Esther had apparently slipped into her backpack to get rid of, or probably to frame her.
As John left, she rose from her chair at the table and hurriedly scraped what was left of her breakfast into the trash. She put her plate in the dishwasher, then hurried down the hallway toward the guest room.
Once she reached her room, she pulled out her phone. No new text from Sarah. She wanted desperately to know what was going on, but she didn’t want to get her friend in trouble. The last thing she wanted was Sarah to have to lie for her.
She hesitated, thinking she should at least call her cousin and let her know she was all right. But she knew Goldie would demand to know where she was and what was going on. Clancy didn’t have the answer. She just kept hoping that Max would find the killer and end this.
The one person she really needed to call was Max, though. But if she called she’d have to tell him where she was. She’d also have to tell him everything else. She kept thinking about Jane, a sweet, tiny, older woman who’d always been kind to her.
Maybe if she’d told the sheriff that she’d seen Jane that night near Esther’s apartment door she might still be alive.
But she would have had to admit that she’d been there in the hallway as well.
Not that she could change it now. Jane was dead.
Murdered. The thought sent an icy chill of fear through her.
Jane had seen her the night when Clancy had gone back to get her money, the night Esther was murdered.
Her mind raced as she tried to make sense out of what must have happened.
They’d both been startled when they’d crossed paths that night in the darkened hallway.
Jane had put her finger to her lips before scurrying away.
She recalled Esther’s apartment door opening.
The killer must have seen Jane standing there.
And Jane must’ve seen the killer.
Clancy had to sit down on the bed as she realized that fact. She put her head in her hands, feeling as if she was going to throw up. This was all her fault. If she’d never agreed to run errands for Esther, would none of this be happening right now?
Fighting to breathe, Clancy didn’t know what to do. She told herself she was safe as long as no one knew where she was, including the sheriff.
As she started to pocket her phone, she saw that her battery was almost dead. When she’d put the contents of her backpack back in after finding the incriminating bag of jewelry, she hadn’t seen her charging cord.
She must have forgotten it back at the trailer behind the convenience store.
* * *
THE RESIDENTS AT Shady Rest were already in an uproar over the latest murder. Their families had been demanding to know what was going on before Myrna’s accusation about the scarf.
Max could feel the pressure for answers growing as he went to find Hazel, hoping Myrna was wrong. He was struggling enough with these two murders. But maybe at least one of them would be solved and quickly.
Hazel Brockman was in the craft room gluing dried leaves to construction paper.
She looked up in surprise when the sheriff came in and asked to speak to her alone.
Hazel went to the sink, washed off the glue and what appeared to be glitter, before following him down the hall to an empty room to talk.
“I need you to tell me if you recognize this scarf,” Max said as he pulled out his phone to show her a photo he’d taken of as much of the scarf as he could without Jane being in the picture. He was watching Hazel’s face as she looked at the photo. He saw her instant recognition.
“That’s mine,” she cried. “Where did you find it? It’s been missing since Esther Mason moved in. When it wasn’t in that box you brought out, I assumed I had lost it. You found it in her room, didn’t you? I knew it,” Hazel declared. “I knew that old biddy took it and lied straight to my face.”
Max took his phone back, considering the ramifications of Hazel’s words. If Esther had really stolen the scarf that long ago, then the killer must have taken it from Esther’s room. Was this the connection between the two murders?
Given Esther’s kleptomania, he could see where someone might want to kill her. But why kill Jane? She didn’t seem to have any enemies, from what he could tell. Vernon didn’t know of any altercations involving her or any problems Jane had had since moving into Shady Rest.
Unless Jane had known who had killed Esther. He could only hope that the bloody pen he’d found would solve both cases—and prove Clancy hadn’t been involved in either.
Max still couldn’t believe there had been no word on Clancy.
With each passing hour he’d become more worried about her.
Common sense told him that she might have gotten a ride to Billings and that there was nothing to worry about.
But he was sure her friend Sarah was keeping her up on what was happening here in Grass Range.
Clancy would know he had the entire state police looking for her.
He still couldn’t reach her by phone. Nor had she called Goldie.
As far as he knew, she hadn’t been in contact with anyone—except Sarah. The young woman seemed as worried about her as Max was. He still feared that Clancy had run because she knew something and was afraid. If so, he needed to find her before the killer did. If she wasn’t already dead.