were clustered around a large, grassy triangle a quarter mile in from the gate. The barn, workshops and machinery sheds formed one end of the complex. In another corner stood the foreman’s log cabin, where her father currently lived, with the ranch hands’ bunkhouse beyond that. Cole’s house—a lavish, two-story stone building with floor-to-ceiling windows—stood apart from the other buildings, taking advantage of the mountain views.
She parked the truck beside her father’s cabin, then got out and glanced around. Several men worked near the machinery shed, loading a backhoe onto a flatbed trailer. Others strapped shovels to four-wheelers, preparing to deal with the dammed-up stream. She didn’t see Cole, but his truck was parked by the tractors, so she assumed he was still around.
She climbed the wooden porch steps, her father’s prescription in hand. Then she hesitated by the porch swing and took another look at the men. Even from a distance she could feel their tension, which was easy to understand. Ranchers worked hard under tough conditions—from winter blizzards reaching forty below to sweltering summer heat. Seeing their work destroyed would infuriate them.
Troubled, she pulled open the door and went inside. Her father sat reading the newspaper in a recliner near the window, his broken leg propped up, his crutches lying beside him on the braided rug.
“Hi, Dad.” She bent and kissed his leathered cheek, careful not to bump his bruises and scrapes. “I’ve got your pain medication. Have you had breakfast? You want me to scramble you some eggs?”
“I can do it,” he grumbled. “I don’t need you to wait on me.”
“I know that.” She stifled a sigh, remembering Bonnie Gene’s comment about stubborn men. “But since I’m up …”
“Fine.” He set his paper aside. “But just get me one of the sandwiches Hannah brought by. She put them in the fridge.”
“All right.” Still thinking about Cole’s cattle, Bethany entered the kitchen and took the medicine out of the bag. Maple Cove had its share of crime—domestic disputes, meth labs, occasional thefts. But to deliberately destroy someone’s livelihood …
Incredulous, she shook out a pill, then went to the sink to fill a glass from the tap. Above the sink the white lace curtains fluttered around the open window, framing a view of the old-fashioned clothesline in the small backyard. That was Maple Cove—sheets drying in the sunshine, kids playing baseball in their grassy yards—not cold-blooded killings and sabotage.
Still unable to believe it, she returned to the living room with the pill. “Here you go. Take this while I get your food.”
He leaned away. “I don’t want to be all drugged up.”
“It’s only for a couple of days until the worst of the pain is gone. You need to rest,” she added when he opened his mouth to argue. “I heard you thrashing around all night.” She set the glass on the side table and handed him the pill.
“Since when did you get so bossy?” he muttered but dutifully gulped it down.
Leaving him to his morning newspaper, she crossed the wooden floor to the kitchen and readied his food. But his comment sparked a sliver of guilt. She didn’t visit her widowed father as often as she should. And he was getting older; his thinning white hair proved that. But she led a busy life in Chicago and could rarely get away.
Still feeling guilty, she put the sandwich on a plate and carried it out. She rearranged her father’s pillows, making sure he was comfortable, then sat on the adjacent couch. It wasn’t just his advancing age that bothered her, but that she’d lost touch with the everyday happenings in his life—his accident, the trouble on Cole’s ranch …
“I saw Cole Kelley in town,” she said. “Why didn’t you tell me your horse dragged you?”
Her father swallowed a bite of sandwich. “It wasn’t important.”
“How can you say that? You could have been killed. Don’t you think I deserved to know?”
“What was the point? There was nothing you could do about it.” He returned his attention to his food.
He was right, but she still wished he’d told her. She drummed her fingers on the couch. “So how did it happen? Cole said Red—”
“It was an accident, that’s all. So just drop it.”
Bethany blinked, shocked by his testy tone. Her father never lost his temper. He was the most even-keeled man she knew. But pain put everyone out of sorts.
She studied his craggy face, the deep lines testament to a lifetime spent working in the wind and sun. “Cole told me about the cattle getting shot,” she said, changing the subject. “And now the stream’s dammed up.”
Her father paused in midbite. His gaze shot to hers. “What stream?”
“Rock Creek. He just found out a little while ago. The cows couldn’t get any water. He doesn’t know how many head he might have lost.” She leaned forward. “You think it has something to do with his father? Cole said the problems started when the senator showed up.”
Her father paled. “I don’t know.”
“You must have an opinion. You’re here every day.”
“I said I don’t know.” Rusty’s voice turned defensive. He scowled and tugged his ear. “How would I when I’m stuck in here with a broken leg?”
He was lying. The realization barreled through her, stealing her breath. No one else would have noticed, but she’d played cards with her father for years—and that pull to the ear invariably gave him away.
But why would he lie? What could he possibly have to hide? Surely he wasn’t involved in the sabotage. He was the most honorable man she knew.
Still scowling, he got up, grabbed his crutches and hobbled away. Bethany slumped on the couch, stunned by his behavior, questions spinning through her mind. Her father would never harm an animal. And he would never hurt Cole. It was insane even to have doubts.
But then what was he hiding? Why hadn’t he told her the truth? Was he merely embarrassed about his accident or something more?
Her thoughts and emotions in turmoil, she rose and walked to the window and gazed out at the busy men. One thing was clear. Something bad was happening at the ranch. And her father might know more than he’d let on.
Cole stalked past on his way to the ranch house, his broad shoulders rigid with tension, anger quickening his stride. She hugged her arms, knowing she shouldn’t care. Cole and his ranch weren’t her business. She had her own problems to deal with—namely Mrs. Bolter’s death. She didn’t need to worry about Cole.
But as he passed, a sinking feeling settled inside her, her heart winning the war it waged with her head. She couldn’t just stand here and do nothing. Cole was in trouble, his ranch under attack. And no matter how badly their relationship had ended, it wasn’t in her nature to withhold her help.
She stepped away from the window, her mind made up. She’d settle her father down for a nap, then ride his horse to the stream. On the way, she could stop in the pasture where he’d had his accident and search for clues.
If her father was hiding
