Grace be a Lady (Love & War in Johnson County Book 1) (18 page)

Pa
did not join his sons for breakfast, a rare occurrence. Wondering if he was a
glutton for punishment, Thad tossed his napkin to the table and told Nick and
Adam to meet him out by the barn in half an hour.

Walking
softly, he approached his father’s office. Muffled voices, angry voices,
stopped his hand as he was about to knock.

“I
told you, Trampas, never her. I’ve got that handled.”

“You
want her spread, don’t you? I can make it look like an accident. Just like Bill
and Mag—”

A
smack and a grunt, followed by a crash, brought Thad bursting into the room. He
skidded to a stop. Pa stood over Trampas, who lay on the floor amongst the
shattered remains of a coffee table, blood trickling from his mouth.

“What’s
going on here, Pa?”

His
father flexed a bloody right hand. “Trampas is taking me to the train station.
Ain’t that right, Trampas?”

The
man rubbed his jaw and climbed to his feet. “Yes, sir.”

Thad
leaned his forehead on the barn, his hat sliding off into the dust. Rage and
despair boiled in him.

He
knew what he’d heard.

Trampas
had killed Maggie to get Bill to sell.

So
who was the “her” Pa had mentioned?

Never
her.

Raney?

Was
Trampas an over-eager hired gun? Was one of the other cattle barons paying him
to knock down independents . . . or was Pa?

Trampas
had not bad-mouthed Bothwell one time, even after Ella’s lynching. Merely said
he couldn’t stomach it, but even then he hadn’t had much outrage in his voice.
Maybe he’d had a hand in her murder after all. Maybe murder was what he did.

God,
help me sort out this tangled web. And please don’t let any of it lead back to
Pa.

“Oh,
gee, Thad?” Adam slipped his arms around his big brother and tried to pull him upright.
“You okay? Is it somethin’ you ate?”

“Get
off me.” He pushed the boy away like he was untangling from a snake. “I’m all
right, I’m all right,” he protested as Adam fought to hang on. Huffing, and
shooting his little brother the stink eye, Thad leaned over and snatched his
hat from the dirt. “I was just thinkin’.” He crammed the Stetson onto his head
and brushed past his little brother. “Tell Nick I rode over to Raney’s. I’ll be
back by supper.”

“Raney,
we need to talk.” Thad removed his hat and held it to his chest. “It’s
important.”

An
ax rested on the woman’s shoulder as she balanced a piece of wood on the
chopping block. Heeding Thad, she dropped it into the stump and wiped her
hands. “I can do this later. Come on in the house and I’ll make us some
coffee.”

Thad
supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised when Raney didn’t bat an eye at his
concerns. But he was. Nick, and now Raney, had seen something in Pa that had
unsettled them. Thad had wanted to blame his own unease on Trampas, that
he
was
the troublemaker.

Raney
merely shrugged at the suggestion as she shuffled around the kitchen. “Your pa’s
never let anybody lead him into anything.” She set two cups of coffee on the
table, sat down across from Thad and stirred sugar into her steaming mug. “The
SGA is planning something. We all know it.”

The
crow’s feet around Raney’s eyes had deepened some, Thad thought, and a pained
frown creased her brow. But more noticeably, she wasn’t sitting as straight as
normal, as if something weighed her down.

“Things
are gettin’ worse, son. The cattle barons are pushing and pushing. I thought
maybe they’d let sleeping dogs lie after Ella and Jake’s deaths.” She drummed
her fingers on the table in a restless rhythm. “Then they took poor Tom
Waggoner in June. His wife said none of his stock was missing.” She leaned
toward Thad, her voice rising with anger. “What kind of rustlers hang a man and
leave his stock alone? It’s Walcott and Hesse . . . they’re
growin’ bold again. Especially since they’ve seen your pa pick up three ranches
in the last two years.”

“He
got those ranches fair and square, Raney.”

She
sagged, and looked at him like he was a daft child. “You mean he paid fair
money for ’em. But you need to dig deeper. What prompted those ranchers to
sell? Couple that with what you heard Trampas say . . . and
I’m
missing cattle now.” She let that sink in, then rose and walked over to the
kitchen sink. She gazed out at the horses in the back pasture and shook her head.
“I used to think the sun rose and set on your pa, but I toyed with his heart,
as a young girl is wont to do. I shouldn’t have been surprised when he married
Lucille. I loved her like a sister, but it hurt.” She exhaled a long breath, as
if trying to expel the pain. “Jake got me over Earl. He was a good man.”

Raney
rounded on Thad, grief and disappointment etched in her face. “I believe your pa
has lost his soul, Thad. Don’t make it easier for him by lying to yourself.”

Thad
ran his fingers around the rim of his mug. He knew, deep down, in a place he
never wanted to search, that Raney was right about Pa. He didn’t know how in
the world he was going to be able to talk to him about any of this, much less
get him to . . .
to what? Stand down? Turn Trampas in? Turn
against the SGA?
At least Raney was aware something was afoot. She’d stay
alert, warn the others, if need be. And she wasn’t alone now.

Or
was she?

“Where’s
that hired hand of yours?”

She
worked her jaw back and forth for a moment. “Sent him into town for some
supplies.”

Her
steady gaze softened, tweaking Thad’s curiosity.

“What?”

“You
met his sister at the dance. Did she tell you where she’s working?”

“Dolly’s
Café.”

Raney
sighed and ran a hand over her mouth, then folded her arms on the table. “Dolly’s
burned down a week before the dance.”

Thad’s
face went slack. “What? Then she must be . . .”

“Waiting
on tables in some other fine establishment in Sheridan?”

“Ah,
you know there ain’t—” An icicle stabbed him in the heart. He thought about the
options for a gal in Sheridan . . . and was amazed that hope
bobbed to the surface again. It seemed he couldn’t believe the worst of Grace
Hendrick, either. “The Golden Lady does have a restaurant, Raney. I don’t think
all the waitresses . . .” He let the silence finish the thought.

Raney
absently turned her coffee cup around and around on the table. “I just hate
that Greg felt like he couldn’t tell me. You, I can understand, the way you’ve been
carrying on about the girl. He didn’t want to break your heart.”

Thad
pushed his coffee away, but stared a hole through it. Was Grace who she said
she was or was she a liar, too, like Pa? Thad felt the foundation of the things
he believed in dissolving like salt beneath his feet.

Grace
read the sign hanging on the café door. Then read it again.

Waitress
wanted.

There
it was.

A
choice.

A
chance.

She
could walk away from Raney and the woman’s burdens. She could leave her to sell
her ranch or fight the bank for it till she lost it. It shouldn’t matter to her
that Raney wanted nothing more in the world than to hang on to the Diamond R.

Grace
needed to think about Hardy. If Raney couldn’t pay her, then, for Pete’s sake,
surely taking a job with real wages was the smart thing to do.

How
had a simple trip into Misery turned into such a pivotal moment?

She
took a halting step toward the door, but had to quickly move aside for some
cowboys exiting the restaurant. Her back against the wall, she wondered why
this was so hard. Just go in there, smile, show the owner how she could commit
six orders to memory and easily carry four plates at once.

Grace
shook her head and pondered her dusty boots. Even if she could get the owner to
see past the short hair and dirty clothes, this was not where Grace wanted to
be.

She
exhaled, letting the opportunity go, and pushed off the wall.

She
would stick with Raney, at least for another month or two.

“ ’Scuse
me, young fella.”

Grace
flinched. She knew the sheriff’s voice and had avoided him like the plague on
her visits to Misery, lest he peer too closely and wonder if they’d met.

“Boy?”
the lawman said, irritable now.

Grace
faced the sheriff’s scrutiny. “Yes, sir?”

His
buttons still on the verge of popping off his grimy shirt, Sheriff Phillips studied
her top to bottom and back again. Frowning, he shook his head, as if she didn’t
add up. “Folks told me you came into town with a sister. I need to know where she’s
at.”

“Why?”

The
sheriff’s hand struck like a snake, the slap stinging Grace’s cheek and making
her ears ring. “Don’t sass me, boy. I’m the sheriff. I can ask anything I want
to, of anybody. Now, one more time,” he leaned in, “the
last
time. Did
you come into town with a sister?”

Grace
knew it would do no good to lie. In fact, it would only complicate her life
even more. Rubbing her burning cheek, she nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Where
is she?”

“I’ve
got a right to know why you’re asking after my sister.”

The
sheriff chuckled and tapped his breast pocket. “Her husband wired me some money
to determine her whereabouts. Now, a man’s got a right to know that about his
wife.”

“If
I tell you, will you leave her alone?”

“I
don’t want nothing from her. Her husband just wants to know where she’s working.”

Grace’s
mind raced. The sheriff didn’t seem interested in doing any extra work. Perhaps
if she sold him a bill of goods, he would be satisfied with that and not track
her down. “She’s waiting tables over in Sheridan. At Dolly’s Café.” Grace realized
immediately that was not the answer Bull wanted. Maybe it was time to play his
game. “No, that’s not exactly true.” The sheriff’s brow lifted, and Grace
sighed dramatically. “She’s gone wrong, Sheriff. She’s working in a . . .
in a . . .” Grace shook her head, as if she couldn’t bring
herself to say it.

The
sheriff nodded. “I see.” He scratched his scruffy jaw and pondered the
development. “Reckon how he’ll take the news?”

“I
imagine, Sheriff, that is exactly the news he wants.”

His
expression lightened considerably. “Do you happen to recall the name of the
establishment?”

Grace
feigned ignorance with a shrug.

“Maybe
the Bird Cage?” the sheriff prodded. “Or the Golden Lady?”

“Golden
Lady.” Grace snapped her fingers. “That sounds right.”

Is
this sheriff an idiot?

Bull
had to fight to keep from ripping the telegram in his hand into a thousand
pieces. He waved it at Lonnie. “Did you read this?”

“No.”
Bull raised a doubtful eye brow. Lonnie shrugged. “Well, I did catch the
brother part.”

Bewildered,
Bull walked around his desk and sat down. He read the telegram aloud, more for
his benefit than Lonnie’s. “ ‘The brother informs me Mrs. Hendrick working
at Golden Lady . . . not a respectable establishment.’ ”
Bull picked up the .32 sitting on his desk, and twirled it around his index
finger.

Brother?
Whose brother? The sheriff’s? Grace’s? But Grace had no brother. These
telegrams were clear as mud, and when things weren’t clear, Bull got
suspicious. He growled at the inconvenience ahead and stood. “Pack your bag,
Lonnie boy, we’re going to the land of cowboys and cattle.”

The
last thing in the world Thad wanted to do was shatter his brothers’ respect for
their father, but he didn’t want to carry this burden alone, either. Over
dinner, he told them everything he knew, everything Pa had said, everything he’d
overheard.

What
if he was wrong? What if he’d misunderstood or misinterpreted?

No.
Coupled with Raney’s comments, the details were coming together in Thad’s head,
and the picture they were painting turned his stomach. He stabbed a steak, and
slapped it on his plate with a whole lot more anger than hunger.

Nick
and Adam’s dour expressions echoed his thoughts. Nick, especially, seemed
troubled. He dropped his fork onto his plate with a loud clatter. “Pa’s lost
his way, Thad. I’ve known it for a while now. It’s not just about holding on to
the ranch. He wants more range. A lot more.”

Adam
twirled his fork in his beans, nodding. “It’s like an obsession,” he whispered.
“I think he thinks he’ll live forever, as long as the ranch goes on.”

“Reasons
don’t matter.” Nick splayed his hands on the dinner table. “I was there when
they cut Waggoner down from that tree and brought him home to his wife. The
rope dang near severed his head.” He pursed his lips, as if physically holding
back his rage. “And I’m the one who found Maggie. If the SGA is sanctioning any
of that . . . if Pa’s going along with it—”

“We’ll
confront him with what we know. Get him to do the right thing.” The voice of
reason, Thad believed the battle for Pa’s soul wasn’t lost just yet. Nick and
Adam’s blank stares said they didn’t necessarily agree. “
I
haven’t given
up on him. Not yet. When he gets back from Cheyenne, we’ll talk to him. Make
him listen.”

Slowly,
Nick stood up, squeezing his dinner napkin in his hand. “I don’t see Pa going
against the SGA, Thad, but you better pray he does. Otherwise, he’s liable to
tear this family apart.” He tossed the napkin onto his plate and stormed from
the room.