This was the part he’d been dreading. “I’d like to use the time while I’m here to find a buyer. With the sale of the house and property, you’ll have plenty of money to spend on you and Ellen.
“All these years you’ve sacrificed for me, for mom. Now it’s time you thought about yourself. You can go on some cruises, buy a house. I was hoping you might invest in a motor home. Then you and Ellen could come and visit us in Colorado whenever you wanted.”
His father slowly turned to him. In the semidarkness he looked older than he had earlier in the evening. “This ranch is your legacy, son.”
Here Trace went again, stabbing his father in the heart once more. “Not when I won’t be able to live here. Since you have health issues and can’t work the ranch anymore, the only sensible thing to do is sell it. Maybe one of Ellen’s married children would like to buy it.”
His dad’s body had gone still as a statue. “You know what? It’s getting late. I don’t want Ellen to worry, so I’m going to leave. I’ve already said good-night to Cassie. But you tell her again how much I appreciated dinner.”
He started for the porch steps. Trace walked with him to his truck. After he got in the cab, he lowered the window. “Didn’t she do a great job on those shutters?”
The question only added to Trace’s pain because he knew the renovations had been done expressly for Trace’s homecoming. “They’re exquisitely done.”
His father nodded. “Come on over to the condo anytime. Don’t be a stranger.”
This wasn’t the way their reunion was supposed to go. “What are you talking about? I’ll see you tomorrow at the clinic. Love you, Dad.”
“Love you. Always.”
In agony, Trace watched his father drive away. If it weren’t late, he’d head over to the Bannock ranch to look up Connor or Jarod. They’d understand his impossible position. Letting out a groan, he went back in the house for his wallet and keys. A restlessness had come over him. He’d never be able to sleep.
Cassie had already disappeared to her room for the night. Not wanting to disturb her, he left a note on the kitchen table that he was going into town and probably wouldn’t be back till late. He supposed he didn’t need to say anything, but it seemed the courteous thing to do. She’d gone the extra mile to make Trace comfortable today. No one had fussed over him like this in years and he appreciated it.
The Golden Spur Bar in White Lodge didn’t close till one in the morning. He needed the canned country music, a lot of noise plus a beer to drown the condemning voice in his head. Too bad the laser’s damage hadn’t burned the guilt out of him at the same time.
He found a parking spot around the corner. Summer brought the tourists in droves and the place was crowded. Trace made his way through to the bar. After a five-minute wait he grabbed a vacated stool and signaled the bartender.
“Trace Rafferty?” The man on his left had spoken to him. When he turned, the guy said, “It is you. You’re the F-16 pilot. What do you know about that.”
“Sorry. Have we met before?”
“Yeah, but it was a long time ago and I’m the forgettable type according to my ex-wife. The name’s Owen Pearson.”
It rang a bell, but Trace couldn’t place him. Between the empty whiskey glass and his self-pity, Trace could see Owen was getting wasted fast. The bartender asked Trace what he wanted. “A beer please.”
Owen raised his empty glass. “Another one of these while you’re at it.” Then his gaze swerved back to Trace. “You in town on leave?”
“Something like that.” It was no one else’s business.
“Haven’t figured it out yet, have you?”
“Pardon?”
“You remember Ned Bannock. He and I have been buddies for years.”
At the mention of the name, the hackles went up on the back of Trace’s neck. It all came back to him. Owen Pearson was the one who lent Ned the truck that had bashed Jarod’s truck years ago almost killing him. “Your dad’s ranch is right next door to the Bannock’s.”
The conversation with Cassie was still fresh in Trace’s mind. His teeth snapped together. “That’s right.” Ned and Cassie’s parents lived on the Bannock property owned by Ralph and Tyson Bannock, the two brothers who raised their families side by side.
“Then you’d know all about the shooting.”
“My father filled me in. Did you go to the funeral?”
“Hell, no. Logan Dorney was a no-account. Ned’s dad fired him when he found out he’d been doing Ned’s sister on the sly. I’m surprised your dad hired them.”
Sickness started to rise in Trace’s throat. “That’s my father’s business surely.”
“The Doc didn’t know Logan the way Ned did.”
Trace let the remark pass. “Any idea who shot him?”
“Some hunter.”
Yup. “How is Ned these days? I haven’t seen him in years.”
“He had some family problems for a while. His sister was nothing but trouble for him. But he’s doing much better now and will be home before long. We’re going to go into business together soon.”
“Is that right? What kind?”
“A stud farm for feral horses.”
That was the business Connor had been building with Liz. “Where?”
“My dad’s ranch.”
The conversation robbed Trace of any interest in his beer. It was still sitting there untouched. He put some money on the counter and got to his feet.
“Hey—you haven’t drunk your beer.”
“I discovered I’m not thirsty. It’s all yours. So long.”
In a different frame of mind than before, Trace drove back to the ranch. After he reached the house, he tore up the note in the kitchen and wrote another one. She’d see it first thing in the morning.
Cassie—
I’ve gone to Billings and will be in and out of the house at odd hours for the rest of the week. Dad and I agree your food is out of this world, but please don’t do any more cooking for me since I don’t have a schedule you can count on.
T.
* * *
WHEN FRIDAY THE twenty-second came around, Cassie kept her afternoon appointment with her OB. Dr. Raynard did an ultrasound and handed her the picture of the sonogram. “Your little girl has a healthy heart and measures the right size. So far everything looks fine.”
Tears streamed down her cheeks. “I can’t
