for forgiveness.”
She frowned. “Why did she come?”
“She’s meeting someone.”
“A boyfriend here in Jacobs County?” she asked curtly.
“No, she said it was business.” He frowned, too. “You know, she seems to know a lot about that recent murder here.”
“Why would she?”
Boone grimaced. “I wasn’t going to tell you, but it seems our uncle may have had ties to the case.”
She let out a breath. “Oh, that’s great. Now he’s not just the man who stole our mother, he’s a murderer!”
“No, not that sort of involvement,” he replied. “I think he might have had some connection to the people involved. From what she said, he was a heavy drug user.”
“Not surprising. I never liked him,” she confessed. “He was always picking on Dad, trying to compete with him in everything. It was sort of sad to me at the time because anybody could see he wasn’t the equal of our father at business or ranching or anything else.”
“Our father had some good qualities. Hitting you like that wasn’t one of them,” he added coldly, “and if I’d known about it, I’d have knocked him through a wall!”
“I know that. It was only the one time,” she said quietly, “and he’d been drinking. It was just after he and our mother met that time, when he thought she wanted to come back. It wasn’t long after she’d gone away with our uncle. He came back home all quiet and furious, and he drank like a fish for about two months. That was when he hit me. He was sorry afterward, and he promised never to do it again. But he hated me, just the same, because I looked like her.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Me, too,” she said with a sigh. “It sort of turned me against men, at least where marriage was concerned.”
“Except with Kilraven.”
She flushed and glared at him. “He’ll probably never speak to me again, after what happened at the party. I don’t understand why he was so angry.” She sighed. “Of course, I don’t understand why I painted a raven for him, either. It’s not one of my usual subjects. I like to do flowers. Or portraits.”
“You’re very good at portraits.”
“Thanks.”
“You could have made a name for yourself as a portrait artist, even an illustrator.”
“I never had the dedication,” she replied. “I really do love my job,” she added.
“So does Keely,” he replied with an indulgent smile. “It’s not a bad thing, working when you don’t have to.”
“You’d know,” she accused, laughing. “You work harder on the ranch than your men do. That reporter for Modern Ranching World had to learn to ride a horse just to interview you about your new green technology because he could never find you unless he went out on the ranch.”
“They’re putting me on the cover,” he muttered. “I didn’t mind doing the article—I think it helps ranching’s public image. But I don’t like the idea of seeing myself looking back at me from a magazine rack.”
“You’re very good-looking,” she said. “And it is good PR. Not that you’ll ever sell the idea of humane beef cultivation to vegetarians,” she added with a chuckle.
He shrugged. “As long as people want a nice, juicy steak at a restaurant, there’s not much chance that ranchers are going to turn to raising house cattle.”
“Excuse me?”
“Well, you could put a diaper on a calf and bring him inside …”
She hit him. “I’m going to bed,” she said. “And when I get upstairs, I’m going to tell Keely what you just said.”
“No!” he wailed. “I was only kidding about it. She’d actually do it!”
She laughed. “There wouldn’t be room. Bailey’s as big as a calf.”
The old German Shepherd looked up from his comfortable doggy bed by the fireplace and wagged his tail.
“See?” she asked. “He knows he’s a calf.”
He shook his head. He bent to ruffle the dog’s fur. He glanced at Winnie. “You going to be okay?”
“Sure.” She hesitated. “Thanks.”
“For what?”
“Being my brother. Don’t leave the jewels lying around,” she advised. “If Clark comes home and sees them, he’ll beg some of them for whatever girl he’s crazy over at the moment.”
“Good thought,” he said, grinning. “I’ll put them in the safe and drive them to town Monday and lodge them in the safe-deposit box.”
“She could have sold them and we’d never have known,” she replied quietly. “I wonder why she didn’t? She’s not driving a new car. Her clothes are nice, but not expensive.”
“There’s no telling why,” he said.
“Did she say anything about where she was going?”
He shook his head. “Just that she was meeting a friend.”
“At this hour? I wonder who she knows here?” she mused. “She used to be friends with Barbara, who runs the café. But Barbara told me years ago that she hadn’t heard a word from her.”
“It might be some newcomer,” Boone said. “Not our business, anyway.”
“I guess. Well, I’m going to bed. It’s been a very long day.”
“For you, it sure has,” he said sympathetically. “First Kilraven, now our mother.”
“Things can only get better, right?” she asked, smiling.
“I hope so. Tell Keely I’m going to make a couple of phone calls, and I’ll be up. You sleep well.”
She smiled. “You, too.”
KILRAVEN HAD JUST pulled up in the driveway of his remote rental house in Comanche Wells when he noticed a sedan sitting there. Always overly cautious, he had his.45 automatic in his hand before he opened the door of his car. But when he got out and saw who his visitor was, he put it right back in the holster.
“What the hell are you doing out here at this hour of the night?” he asked.
She smiled. “Bringing bad news, I’m afraid. I couldn’t get you on your cell phone, so I took a chance and drove down.”
He paused by the car. “What’s wrong, Rogers?” he asked, because he knew it had to be something major to bring her from San Antonio.
She
