Whispers of the Heart (15 page)

He still couldn’t decide on a name, still couldn’t believe she was leaving the honor of naming their firstborn son to him. He already knew the middle name – Harvey, after his foreman and dearest friend, but a first name eluded him. He couldn’t name him after his father, and knew of no other male influences upon which to draw. There was always Charles, named after Carolyn’s father, but she’d said she didn’t want to name their son after a family member. Perhaps Vincent or Dylan, but it needed to...”

“Are you going to stand there staring at me?” She called, interrupted his musings, “or are you planning to join me?”

Dalian laughed, closing the remaining distance quickly. “Sorry, you just look so angelic,” he said, carefully drawing her into his embrace and giving her a thorough kiss, “that, and I was thinking about what to name our son,” he finished when he came up for air.

“You still haven’t decided?” Carolyn asked, incredulous. “You’d better step up the thinking process a bit or our baby’s going to be nameless upon arrival.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to give me any ideas?” Dalian asked.

“Not on your life,” Carolyn laughed. “A boy should have a man’s name given to him by his father. Or would you prefer that I come up with something that might have the poor child teased for his entire youth?”

“Oh, come on, Carolyn,” Dalian said, “what could you possibly come up with that would emotionally stint our child?”

“Mmm, I don’t know,” Carolyn teased, “Ashley, perhaps?”

“That’s a girl’s name!”

“Not in England,” Carolyn argued.

“We’re not
in
England. You’d really name our child Ashley?” Dalian asked, looking for any signs that she was teasing him.

“Incentive enough for you to start thinking harder?”

“That’s cruel, Carolyn,” Dalian said, but he couldn’t help the laughter that escaped. “So, what’s my beautiful whale of a wife doing out here all alone?”

“Looking at the stars,” Carolyn said, her gaze turning heavenward.

“They are beautiful tonight, but it’s getting a little chilly. Don’t you think you should come inside now?” Dalian asked, taking off his jacket and wrapping it around her shoulders.

“You worry over me too much,” Carolyn said, pulling the front of the jacket as far over her abdomen as she could.

“Would you rather I not give a crap?” Dalian asked softly, stroking her face gently.

“I like that you worry over me,” Carolyn whispered, turning to kiss his hand, “it’s just that I selfishly wanted to spend a little time alone talking to the baby. Would you mind leaving us to ourselves a bit longer, if I promise to come inside soon?”

“Soon, okay?” Dalian said, placing a kiss on her chilled lips. “I don’t want you and little what’s-his-name to catch pneumonia.”

“Just a few more minutes, I promise,” Carolyn said, smiling softly, inwardly.

“I love you – both,” Dalian said.

“I love you, too, sweetheart.”

Dalian reluctantly turned and made his way back to the house. When he reached the porch, he sat down on the swing and turned his gaze toward the corral. He could barely make out her form in the starry shadows, but when he closed his eyes, he could easily imagine her standing there, whispering secrets to the tiny body swimming around in her abdomen.

The sound of a rifle firing startled him. His eyes flew open and for a moment he thought he imagined it, but then another report sounded and he leapt from the swing, his gaze trying to penetrate the night sky, his ears trying to pinpoint the direction.

The sound of a cougar screaming was the next sound to reach his hearing and the hairs on the nape of his neck pricked. The hairs on his arms joined those on his neck when he heard another rifle report – and then his wife’s screams.

“Carolyn!” He shouted, jumping from the porch. The corral wasn’t far, but it seemed to be taking him forever to reach it. He skidded to a halt as the cougar he’d heard, ran past him, heading straight for the horses – and his wife.

“Move!” Someone shouted, running past on foot, the rifle aimed and cocked.

“Be careful! My wife is over there!” Dalian screamed at the man, but he didn’t appear to hear. It was as if he could care less that his actions might kill an innocent woman and her unborn child –
his
wife and unborn child.

That thought sent a streak of terror racing through his veins. He turned, racing after the man with the rifle. The man had stopped less than a hundred feet of where Carolyn stood frozen, looking after the cougar which had gone past her, heading for the hills.

She’s safe
! Was Dalian’s first thought, but then he realized that the man was still aiming the rifle, and the cougar was too far away to hit. Didn’t the man realize that? And why was he sighting so high? Too high, Dalian realized, increasing his pace. The aim of the rifle was too high. It was as if he wanted to kill his wife and was just using the cougar as an excuse.

“No!” Dalian yelled and tackled the man, but it was too late – he’d already fired.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

April 2061
Wind River, Wyoming

“Dalian?” The sheriff whispered, drawing Dalian from his musing.

“I don’t know, Jonathan,” Dalian whispered. “Jethro Canton was cleared of the crime. Claimed that he was just trying to kill the cougar that was killing his sheep; was so upset that he wasn’t thinking straight and that affected his aim.”

“But you never believed it,” the sheriff said.

“I was there, Jonathan,” Dalian said. “I saw his aim. So either he’s the worst damned shot in the world, or he’s a liar who got away with murder.”

“I know it’s taken a lot for you to live beside the man these past two years feeling the way you do. You’re definitely a bigger man than I am, but I guess what I want to know is if you think it possible that Canton had a hand in this?”

“If he did, there’s no way to prove it, is there?” Dalian sighed in frustration. “After all, any evidence likely burned with the barn. I do know that he’s been after my land; been shoving his daughter at me in the hopes that I’ll marry her, so whatever children she spawned inherited. But I told Marsha back in the fall to tell her dad to lay off, that my land and I are not on the market. Repeated that just a couple of weeks ago, when she made another play for my attention. I don’t know if it’s related or not. Just damned funny to me that I just happen to start seeing someone,
not
his daughter, and shortly thereafter, my new woman and I end up in a deadly situation. I can also tell you that Marsha wasn’t thrilled over my rejection. Does any of this add up to motive for murder or point a finger in Canton’s direction? You’re the sheriff, you tell me?”

“If it does, it would barely reach the level of circumstantial.”

“That’s what I thought,” Dalian said, running his fingers through his hair.

“My deputies are poking around right now along with the team from CSI. We’ll see what
they turn up. In the meantime, I’ll go pay a visit with Canton and his daughter, see what sort of alibi they produce,” The sheriff said, standing.

“Marsha’s here,” Dalian said, a sudden chill running up his spine. “She’s been working here since we opened the dude ranch.”

“Well, isn’t that mighty special,” the sheriff said. “Isn’t the smartest thing in the world rubbing a new relationship in the face of a rejected female – daily. Might just piss 'em off, but good.”

“Didn’t dawn on me at the time,” Dalian said.

“What’s she doing sleeping here anyway? Her house isn’t that far away.”

“Yeah, but we prefer to house temporary employees, so that they are on time to help the guests in the morning. Less likely to be late when Mrs. Guthrie is knocking at your door. Speaking of which – Mrs. Guthrie!” Dalian called loudly.

“Oh, there you are,” Mrs. Guthrie said, hurrying toward the front of the house. She handed Dalian a baggy full of ice wrapped in a washcloth. “Now put that on your head like the paramedic said to,” she ordered.

“Have you seen Marsha this morning?” Dalian asked, slapping the baggy against the back of his head. He winced when the cold seeped through to his skull.

“No,” Mrs. Guthrie said, pointing at the baggy when Dalian removed it. “Back on, now!”

Dalian rolled his eyes, but did as she said. “Any idea where she is? She’s supposed to be residing here during the week.”

“She is, but I haven’t seen hide nor hair of her since she went to bed last night.”

“Sheriff,” Dalian said.

“Already one step ahead of you,” the sheriff said. “Mrs. Guthrie, could you tell me which room Miss Canton is occupying.”

“Sure, I’ll take you on up,” Mrs. Guthrie said, pulling the front screen door open.

“I’ll take care of things, Dalian, you go on to the hospital and check on your girl.”

Dalian smiled, “Thanks, Jonathan, I think I’ll do that. You’ll take care of whoever’s responsible, won’t you?”

“Forgot to add ‘this time’, didn’t you, Dalian?” The sheriff asked.

Dalian nodded, “No, what I forgot to add was you might consider taking care of them because if I find ‘em first...”

“Come on, Dalian,” the sheriff interjected, “you know I can’t listen to you issue threats. Listen, I’m going to do everything in my power to keep you and your new woman safe, I give you my oath as sheriff and friend. As to catching the person responsible,” the sheriff shrugged, “I’m sure going to give it my best effort, but we both know that if Canton’s responsible, he did a better job this time in covering his tracks than when your wife was killed. I can’t even call him a person of interest – legally.”

“I know, but I appreciate you doing what you can.”

“I always do. Now let me go see about some alibis and you go see about Kat.” Dalian nodded again, and the sheriff followed Mrs. Guthrie into the house. “Just point out her room, and I’ll take it from there.”

“Top of the stairs, third door on the right, but sheriff, I don’t see how Marsha could’ve had a hand in all of this. I’ve known the girl for four years now, and while she might be a wee bit off in the head sometimes, I can’t say as if I’d call her a murderer.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, but there’s been far too much commotion going on for her not to have taken notice. You can’t say that isn’t a mite bit suspicious.”

Mrs. Guthrie nodded in resignation, “Aye, that it is,” she whispered. “I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me for anything more.”

“Thank you.” The sheriff turned and headed up the staircase, wondering just how Marsha would be able to explain her conspicuous absence. He knocked on the door to the room indicated by Mrs. Guthrie, and waited. After a minute, he knocked again and pressed his ear against the door panel. He heard muffled noises, and grinned.
Someone’s rest is being disturbed,
he thought. When all became silent inside, he lifted his fist and pounded.
That should let them know that I’m not going away.

“Coming!” A man shouted, his tone irritated. Masters cocked his brow.
Well
, he thought,
there is no longer any doubt as to an alibi for the daughter of Dalian’s enemy, unless she pulled a man in her room afterward to provide said alibi.

The door jerked open and the anger on the man’s face quickly turned to surprise, “Sheriff Masters! What are you doing here?”

“I don’t think I need to ask you the same thing do I, Kenny?” Jonathan said, grinning when the ranch hand self-consciously tugged the sheet higher onto his hips. “You aren’t aware of the hullabaloo going on outside? There’s been an awful lot of racket for you to have slept peacefully through it all.”

“Heard the sirens, but didn’t think they were . . . I mean, I was kind of preoccupied and, um...”

“Didn’t think to check on your employer’s well-being and the well-being of his property?”

“It’s not like he doesn’t have enough employees, Sheriff,” Kenny defended. “Am I in trouble, or what?”

“Depends on how honestly you answer the next question,” Jonathan said, then quirked his brow when Marsha, wrapped in a blanket, stepped up beside her lover.

“Sheriff, is something wrong?” She said shyly.

“I just need Kenny to answer one question,” Jonathan said, trying to ignore her disheveled appearance, “and then I’ll let you two get back to . . . whatever it is you two were doing.”

“So, what’s up, Sheriff?” Kenny asked, impatience written all over his face.

“How long have you been up here, Kenny?” Jonathan asked candidly. “And think carefully before you answer. I need you to be as close to accurate as you can get.”

“Uh, well, I don’t rightly know for certain...”

“I said think carefully,” Jonathan snapped, “and answer when you
do
know for certain, and not before.”

“What’s going on, Sheriff?” Marsha asked, clutching Kenny’s arm.

“I’ll answer that as soon as Kenny answers me.” Jonathan kept his gaze pinned on Kenny, searching for any sign that his brain was doing anything but searching for an answer to his query. Thus far, he only read perplexity and sincere contemplation.
He knows nothing,
the sheriff concluded tacitly.