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Barrett cleared his throat. “He’s right, Owen. Best to get Ella and Betsy settled in.”
Owen hesitated for another moment before he tossed his napkin on the table. “Okay. I’m gonna find that thermos tomorrow and pay Bruce Reed a visit.”
Ella gasped. “No, Owen. He’s dangerous.”
His mouth hardened into a grim line and the look in his eyes scared her. “So am I,” he said.
* * *
Owen downed a couple of aspirin when no one was looking. It dulled the throbbing, if only temporarily, before he led Ella and Betsy to the big ranch van they’d gotten when Grandad became wheelchair bound. It was roomier than his truck, for sure, with a lift to ease Betsy into position with more comfort than him moving her.
They were back at her little house by seven, as the last glimmers of sunlight faded to black. He noticed afresh how the structure was shrouded by a thick border of trees, set back from the road. Isolated.
He jerked toward a faraway buzz of engine noise as he lowered Betsy’s wheelchair from the truck. Not a motorcycle, just a horse trailer rumbling away from Candy Silverton’s ranch.
You’ll fry.
Her words rang in his memory, but even louder was the clear message written on Bruce Reed’s face, a bold statement that he was a man who would get whatever he wanted and eliminate whoever was in his way. Owen suspected what Bruce wanted was Candy’s millions. He watched Ella open the front door and usher her sister into the house.
“Ella,” he called to her. “Okay if I do a quick check of your windows and doors?”
“I...” She had started to protest. “I guess that’s a good idea.”
Of course it was a good idea, but it would take some getting used to. No one in the town of Gold Bar, the Thorns included, ever locked anything. They hadn’t needed to, until now.
When he’d returned to the Gold Bar after his first deployment, he’d fought the urge to secure the ranch tight. Naive boy no longer, he knew there was evil and death because he’d seen it, escaped it, mourned for those who hadn’t. But he would not allow those feelings to color his actions at home because he did not want Gold Bar, nor his perception of it, to change.
But it had anyway. He remembered the night after his second deployment when he’d grabbed a rifle and gone to check on a noise, only to scare his mother half to death as she warmed tea.
The look on her face, the mug shattering on the floor, his grip on the rifle.
“Owen,” she’d breathed. “Owen, is that...you?”
He realized later that his face, his demeanor, must have been so hardened into a mask of hatred, that he’d likely scared her half to death. He’d promptly re-upped and then he was back in Afghanistan, the only place where things made sense. He’d come a long way since then, understood his desire to be alone, and the need to share with people who could help him.
You’re better. His mind, maybe, but his body still scoffed at him, the leg twinging in mockery. He would overcome that too. He mentally chided himself for not making the next physical therapy appointment. Perhaps it was fear that kept him from going, rather than procrastination. What if his doctor said there was no chance he could resume his military career? What then?
He walked the outside perimeter of the house too, checking that the screens were in place and exterior doors were locked. Then he examined the inside, trying not to show Ella that he noticed the locks were cheap and many of them were rusted. One window would simply not lock properly for all his forcing, so he cut part of a broomstick and wedged it in the track.
Ella played the messages back on her answering machine connected to the house phone. He marveled at the old avocado green device with the curly cord. But that was Gold Bar for you—a town with a foot in the present and the other firmly planted in the past.
Though he tried not to listen, it was impossible to miss her body language. With each message, her shoulders sank lower.
“... Went with another farrier.”
“... No longer require your services.”
“... Got someone else to do the work.”
Ella’s lips trembled and she did not look at him. “They all think I’m guilty. No one wants a murderer working for them.”
He laid hands on her shoulders and massaged gently. “It’s only temporary. We’re gonna clear this all up.” Her shuddering breaths told him she was trying hard not to cry so he turned her around and held her in his arms, tucking her head under his chin.
“I’ve worked so hard,” she whispered. “Every night for months to complete farrier school. I put every penny I saved into starting my business.”
He tightened his hold. “Ella, I’m going to fix this. I promise.”
The house phone rang and after a moment of hesitation, Ella stepped out of his embrace and answered. Whatever she heard made her jerk so violently, she let go of the phone, sending it dangling toward the floor. He snatched it up and put it to his ear.
Candy Silverton’s voice was almost unrecognizable, twisted with rage. “You didn’t have to kill him. I would have loaned you money. You selfish, no good piece of trash.”
“Ella didn’t kill your nephew,” he said over her wailing. “So knock it off.”
“Oh yes she did, and I’m going to make sure she pays with her life.”
The line went dead.
He replaced the phone on the cradle. Ella folded her arms tight across her chest. “She has a lot of influence in this town. I’m sure she’s told everyone that I killed Luke.”
He answered when his phone vibrated. His brother Keegan spouted the info so quickly he could barely catch it all. When he disconnected, he lifted Ella’s chin until she looked at him.
“We just got a break. My brothers found the motorcycle hidden in a gorge and gave the license plate number to Larraby. Keegan has a girl he once dated who works for a private eye. He asked her to run the plates. Guess who it’s registered to?”
“Who?”
“Bruce Reed. Jack phoned the cops and Larraby’s away at the moment but he’ll head over to talk to Reed first thing Monday.”
A streak of hope broke across her face. “So we might be able to prove he tried to run us down, but how will that get me off the hook for murder?”
“I dunno,” he said, grabbing his jacket. “But it’s got to help us show Bruce Reed for what he really is.”
“You can’t go over there Monday, Owen, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“Sure I can. It’s a free country and I’d like to hear Candy Silverton explain to Larraby that she just called and threatened your life.”
“Everyone will be angry at your intrusion,” she said. “Larraby, Candy Silverton, Bruce Reed...”
“You know,” he said, smiling at her, “I just don’t really care.”
“Don’t get in trouble for me.”
“Ella, I’ve risked my life for people I will never meet. You, I’ve known since you were in grade school.” As he looked at those lush green eyes, his heart started beating to a faster tempo, the pulse thundering loud in his ears. He cleared his throat. “You’re my best friend’s sister and my family loves you. Why wouldn’t I take a risk for you?”