LITMIR.BIZ

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his extended stay at the hospital in Reno, it had occurred to him that his departure from Canmore had been very convenient for Max. With Dylan gone, Max had full control. Of the ranch, the money…and Rose.

      His mother’s expression started to turn blank again, as if she’d decided to opt out of the conversation. Cathleen reached for the woman’s pale hand and changed the subject. She brought Rose up-to-date with news about former neighbors, then the results of a recent fund-raiser given by the horticultural society.

      Gradually, Rose began to relax. A couple of times she even smiled. How could she not, with Cathleen’s outrageous stories? Dylan wondered if she was just making them up, then decided it didn’t really matter. Just hearing her talk was enough. For his mother, anyway.

      Him, he wanted more. But given Cathleen’s frosty attitude, it was hard to believe that there had once been a time when she’d returned his smiles and welcomed his touches. Now those days felt as distant as something he’d read about in a book or seen in a movie.

      Cathleen had poured his tea black and strong, just the way he liked it. He took a sip, then focused on his mother. Cathleen was chatting on about an editorial she must have read in the local paper that week. There was a spark of pleasure in Rose’s eyes as she listened. Dylan wondered what else brightened his mother’s days. Her cat, obviously. But were there any people she still connected with? Friends from the old days?

      Not likely, since she didn’t seem to have heard any of the news Cathleen was telling her.

      Rose took a sip of her tea and nodded at something Cathleen said. Gradually, she let her gaze slide over to her son. Seeing the resulting frown didn’t make him feel very good.

      He couldn’t stop himself from bringing up the subject again. “You know I didn’t hurt Jilly, don’t you, Mom?”

      For a moment he caught a glimpse of something soft and warm. The woman who had read him stories and baked him cookies and kissed his scraped knees was still inside there. But almost as soon as the softening happened, it disappeared. His mother’s gaze became vague again, and her mouth tightened with anxiety.

      “You shouldn’t have caused trouble for Max,” she said. “If only you could have left well enough alone.”

      “Max is the one causing the problems. Dad would never have allowed those wells to be drilled on the Bar M.”

      “Your father isn’t here anymore.”

      No. He sure as hell wasn’t. “What’s going on with the ranch?”

      She shook her head.

      “I heard you hired Danny Mizzoni to look after it.”

      “The mayor of Canmore ought to live in town,” Rose said weakly.

      Cathleen’s glance showed the same concern he felt. His mother was talking like a robot. And he sure as hell knew who’d programmed her.

      “The ranch isn’t even being operated anymore, is it?” Dylan tried not to sound bitter, but the news he’d heard from both Jake and Cathleen sickened him to the core. Apparently the herd had been sold, as well as most of the equipment.

      “It’s for the best.”

      He ignored Cathleen’s restraining hand on his arm. “I’d like to know what Dad—”

      “Your father is dead. Max is the head of this family now.”

      She couldn’t have said anything that would have infuriated him more. “Max has nothing to do with me. And he doesn’t have any business making decisions that concern my land.”

      “It’s not your land, Dylan.”

      “I’m a McLean, aren’t I? You know Dad meant for me and Jake to own the ranch one day.”

      Rose tightened her lips. “When I heard about Jilly, I redid my will. After I die, everything goes to Max. And when he dies, it passes on to James.”

      Dylan heard Cathleen gasp. “You can’t mean that…” He sputtered and grabbed tight to the hand that had just reached out to him. Cathleen’s hand.

      “Mother, that land means everything to me. If you want to give half to the Strongmans and the rest to me and Jake, I’m willing to talk about that. But you can’t cut us out completely.”

      It couldn’t be legal, could it? If only his father had bequeathed the land directly to him! But his dad’s simple will had left everything to his wife, on the understanding that she would pass the land on to Dylan and Jake when it was her turn to go. It had sounded simple enough when his father had sat the three of them around the kitchen table to discuss it. Of course his father could never have anticipated Max Strongman entering their lives.

      “I need to have that ranch,” he told his mother now. “It’s my birthright.”

      His mother truly seemed torn. “Why did you hurt that girl?” she asked sadly.

      He’d told her once. He wouldn’t say it again.

      But Cathleen didn’t have the same scruples. “In your heart, Rose, you have to know Dylan didn’t harm Jilly. He could never do such a thing.”

      Hearing Cathleen defend him, Dylan felt a weird, fluttering sensation in his gut. She sounded so sincere, so heartfelt. Did she really trust him that much?

      Rose’s mouth trembled. “You forget that Max was present that day. He saw it all. Out of respect for me, he didn’t tell the RCMP. But he saw Dylan shoot that girl—”

      “He did not!” The dirty lying bastard… Dylan shot up from his chair, spilling some of his tea. Rose cowered, as if she expected him to strike her. But why? Unless she’d become conditioned to react that way to an angry man.

      “Max wouldn’t lie to me,” Rose said softly.

      Dylan held his hands close to his body and spoke gently. “I’m not the one who hits you, Mom. And I’m not the one lying to you. One day, I hope you believe me.”

      DYLAN DIDN’T TALK on the way back to the B and B and Cathleen understood. She drove with the window down, her elbow propped on the ledge. Sometimes a brisk cleansing wind was the most you could ask for in a day.

      At Larch Lodge, Poppy had lunch waiting. Cathleen didn’t have the heart to admit she had no appetite. Since the table was set for three, Dylan sat, too.

      Cathleen pressed her fork into the quiche, then tried her first bite, aware that Poppy was eyeing her anxiously. The crust was buttery and light; the chopped carrots, onions, potatoes and celery, moist and curry flavored.

      “Perfect,” Cathleen said, and Dylan concurred.

      Poppy smiled. She sat and watched them eat for almost a minute, without taking a taste. Finally, she sighed.

      “You say it’s good, but you don’t seem to be enjoying it.”

      “It’s not the food, Poppy.” Cathleen laid down her fork. “It’s Dylan’s mother. Our visit didn’t go well.”

      “Oh?”

      “She’s obviously not healthy. She’s way too thin and…high-strung.”

      “But she was pleased to see her son?”

      Dylan, too, set down his fork. Murmuring an apology, he stalked off to the porch.

      Cathleen raised her eyebrows at Poppy.

      “I guess that answers my question. How sad. Family belong together.”

      “Not always,” Cathleen replied, thinking of her no-account father. “In this case, though, I agree. Rose could use her son’s support, but Max has poisoned her mind against him. He’s convinced her that Dylan shot Jilly.”

      “I see.” Poppy’s forehead collapsed into wrinkles, a sign, Cathleen had learned, of warring emotions. The older woman shook her head, then came to a

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